Whatever Happened to Paul? (Sharking)

 This one is such an old one - Original Caption

Paul hated Fridays. Ladies' night was always extra busy in the club and Johnny the Shark expected him to bring home the goods. The women's bathroom, where he would spend most of his night, milled with traffic and the walls were lined with mirrors giving Paul a reminder of what he had become from nearly every angle.

Success can be dangerous. Eleven years ago, in this very nightclub bathroom, Paul had successfully collected an assortment of clothing from his sister and her friends and pulled them on in one of the stalls convincingly enough to evade Johnny the Shark's goons waiting outside. However, Paul's escape was short-lived. He still owed money and when Johnny caught up with him, he was armed with rumours of how exactly Paul had got away that night. The Shark had grinned a predator's grin as two of Johnny's men held Paul in a chair and explained exactly how he was going to be making back the money he owed. Success can be dangerous if you prove you can successfully hide out convincingly in a women's bathroom to a loan-shark looking for a way to sell drugs at the club on Ladies' night.

“I thought I would find you here!” Paul didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. He could see Amy's reflection in the mirror, an amused smirk plastered on her face. She had been one of the girls that leant him clothing to escape all those years ago, but, still, he had never liked her much. She was smug and mean and even suspected she was the one who told Johnny how he had slipped by his men. Paul slid his flask of bourbon into the tight bust of his dress just above a heart-shaped cut out. In his platform boots he towered over Amy, but she rounded him with the confidence of a lioness stalking a gazelle. “I was hoping you had a little something for me?” She smiled. “Well, I know you have a little something...” She winked at his crotch that was barely concealed by the impossibly short skirt of the dress where his nylon clad legs stretched from beneath. “But, I think you know what I mean...” Paul rolled his eyes and felt a fresh wave of humiliation as he saw how catty it had appeared via his reflection. He tried to give Amy a stern look, but with his thick painted lips and heavy makeup, it just looked like a pout. Finally, he gave up and reached a handful of French-tipped nails into the other bust of tight dress and pulled out a small ziplock bag of pills to give to Amy. He held out his other hand for payment. “Oh, I don't think so...” The girl exclaimed in mock surprise. “Unless, you want me to tell those beefy security guys outside what you're doing in here. Trust me, girl, you don't want to be on your knees in here!” Amy glanced around the floor in disgust before accepting the pills from Paul's outstretched hand.

Paul watched her skip out of the bathroom with the drugs safely in her panties and he was alone again with his reflections. He started to play with his wig. He always did this when he was stressed en femme. It was degrading how Amy had treated him, especially given she had once been his sister's friend, but it was nothing compared to what Johnny would do to him if he couldn't come up with a good reason why he hadn't taken payment for some of his merchandise...