James sat clutching his knees to his stupidly broad chest on a ripped-up couch of indeterminate material in the back room he had been assigned to, trying to deny himself the relief of shaking and the contrasting despair of thinking about the fact that, like the couch, he had now seen better days and was tainted by fluids of dubious origins. The way that his first... likely of many... client had addressed him as a "good little faggot..." many times and among other even less flattering things... was technically more friendly than the way his mom although I guess she's not my mom anymore... had said that word to him what had somehow only been a few weeks prior, but it rang harshly in his ears just the same. He found himself almost instinctively incorporating the lingering feeling of the much older man's chest pressing against his back into his frequently imagined fantasy of being a woman first and foremost, but also, as long as he was indulging in the realm of things that fundamentally could never be for him, of having a loving and protective husband and building a shared home with him... although he would certainly be absolutely overjoyed with only the first part of this fantasy... delusion.
James could almost hear this hypothetical husband, who was surprisingly much more nondescript than the rest of his painstakingly crafted imaginings but decidedly younger than his recent rendezvous partner, saying to him something along the lines of "You're so beautiful in this shawl... You know-" Suddenly, he guiltily scattered his reverie to the wind, remembering that the actual reaction he had gotten upon being caught in the shawl that his friend Cameron had gifted him was "No son of mine's gonna be wearing this gay shit!" James looked down at the nurse's uniform that the customer had wanted him to wear for reasons he did not want to understand, cringing at its obvious flatness against his chest and wondering if his mom... the woman who had been his mom... would have considered it to be gay and thus a reason to disown him and kick him out as well.
She'd probably find it fitting that I'll be wearing women's clothing in this place now... considering that it's such a far-cry from being able to live as one, and I'm contributing to a system that hurts them by being here... so really the fact that this job seems like it'll vaguely approximate some of the pain they go through... although of course I could never know the true extent or nature of it... is karmic in a way... it's what I deserve for appropriating their lives for my stupid fantasies instead of focusing on actual problems and being strong enough to accept my gender like everyone else in the world has... somehow... I've always been confused by the fact that I'm the only man who wants to be a woman, but I guess that's true...
He snapped out of his contemplative thoughts and jerked backwards slightly in shock as Emily, the man who had invited him into The Gutter with open arms and guided him through the paperwork and mostly friendly hazing involved in gaining employment in this place, opened the door and made his way into the room before sitting beside him on the couch, seemingly unperturbed by its unhygienic nature. Looking concernedly at him, he moved a hand near his knees, paused and looked questioningly at him until he had consented to his touch with a slight nod, and comfortingly placed it over one of them. "Hey, how's it going, James?" Despite Emily's kind nature, James defaulted to his usual response of putting on his best poker face. "...It was... fine-good... I really do appreciate how much you've helped me today, Emily." Anger briefly flashed across his face, but James could somehow tell that it wasn't directed at him. "Girl, the first day isn't fine or good for any of us. You don't have to lie to me, but you also don't have to share anything with me unless you want to."
He called me a girl! Emily smiled at him, puffing his chest out slightly with pride, before seeming to remember something. "Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, you do have to share one thing with me... you see, us escorts of The Gutter usually use a female name for the clients... they tend to get uncomfortable if we don't, plus it's just nice to have. I assume you already have a name in mind-most of us did-but if you don't you can get back to me on that one tomorrow morning, no problem." Of course! Lucy! Guilt ripped through him as quickly as the name of his favorite and most admired and so much more strong and resilient than him character, Lucy Ricardo, had occurred to him, and he dropped his head in shame, happening to focus on a nametag that he had not previously realized that his uniform had in the anxiety surrounding his dealings with his first client.
...Audrey... huh... I know I ideally shouldn't be taking any womens' name, but this is the least bad option, considering that it's right there and I'm not stealing it from any women I know or characters that I know of who are important to women. He looked back up at Emily. "Audrey... I think I'll go with Audrey, if that works." Emily looked confusedly at his nametag and then him for a moment before responding. "...Uh... sure, that works, yeah. I'll let the boss know about your decision... unless you need anything before I go?" Audrey shook his head slightly before offering his appreciation to him again, which Emily warmly accepted before handing him the clothes he had come in with and exiting the room. For the only time in his life thus far, Audrey very much did not regret having to get out of womens' clothing and exchange it for his usual and proper mens'. He allowed himself to gather his strength for a moment despite not normally doing so, attempting to cast the memories and sensations now associated with that uniform off with it, before making his way out of the room to hang it... and hopefully those memories for the brief moment before they would inevitably be replaced by new ones... up.