The Job Offer

They'd asked the cigar bar owner permission, of course. They'd heard through the grapevine the young cigar sommelier working his way through law school was potentially a very good fit indeed for heir firm.

You couldn't tell outright just by looking, of course. But they approached the subject delicately, once cigars were lit. They had talked with the owner.

Yes, indeed, the waiter did crossdress, and he spent part of his discretionary income on skirt suits.

Conversation soon revolved around the why. It wasn't an attention thing. Skirtsuits empowered him emotionally but exhausted him. He couldn't do it every day. "Real" women sure shouldn't have to--and he complimented their sharp pantsuits. But skirts and dresses often energized him to a mind state unavailable from men's clothes.

This was perfect. Their law firm specialized in gender identity and rights. They had no-one like him. Or was "her" preferred, on days he chose to dress en femme?

There would be a clothing stipend.