I look him dead in the eye. I could play the game. I could act coy, brush my hair back, ask if he wants another drink. That’s the SissyPov script, right? The fantasy of being desired, of passing, of the thrill of almost being caught.
My name is Jackie. To the world passing by the neon-lit owl sign, I’m just another Hooters girl—a flash of orange shorts, a low-cut white tank top, a tray full of beer bottles. But look closer. Let your gaze linger past the eyelash curlers and the gloss. I’m what you might call the secret ingredient, the special on the menu they don’t print. I’m the femboy Hooters hottie. SissyPov - Jackie Femboy Hooters Hottie - POV-
“You’re not like the other girls,” he says, low enough that the music swallows it. I look him dead in the eye
“Jackie.”
I fix my lipstick. I adjust my ponytail. I walk out the back door into the cool night air. The neon owl winks above me. That’s the SissyPov script, right
Later, at the bar, I’m filling a pitcher of Coors Light. A guy in a polo shirt—corporate, mid-thirties, wedding ring tan line—slides onto the stool next to the service station. He’s been nursing a single whiskey for an hour, watching me.
He swallows. His hand trembles a little on his glass. “I see… someone who is owning it.”