Blindsided 20

“What’s she doing here?” Robbie thought as he peered through the peephole. “How did she find me?”

His thoughts were interrupted by the visitor knocking again. “Robbie, it’s me, Shar. I know you’re in there. Can I come in?”

Lifting his right arm, he fumbled with the latch. “Son of a…” The feminised man muttered, still struggling to adapt to the bright red acrylic talons attached to his fingertips.

Using the inside of his thumb and forefinger, he finally managed to get it unhooked before swinging open the door.

“Good morning, babes,” Shar sang out as she strode past the half-naked man without waiting for an invitation. “Wow, this place is nice. This décor is so cute. It’s a bit dark in here, though. Let’s let some light in and air the place out a little, shall we?” she said as she flung open the living room curtains and proceeded to open the window behind.

As Robbie’s tired eyes winced from the bright light, he desperately tried to work out what was happening. He had just woken up on the sofa, and his brain was still playing catch up.

“Love the PJs, by the way,” Shar said as she pottered about the living room, plumping up cushions and arranging ornaments. “But you really need to start removing your makeup before bed, babes. it’s really bad for your skin, you know?”

“Shar! What are you doing here?” Robbie cried, throwing his arms up into the air.

Stopping dead in her tracks, Shar turned and smiled. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I should have explained. Agatha called. She gave me this address and said I had to come over to help you get ready for work.”

“And you agreed? Just like that?” Robbie asked as he tried to pull down the oversized T-shirt, he had worn to sleep in as it barely covered half of his plump bottom.

“Well, no, but after she threatened to burn down my salon, what choice did I have?” Shar replied, pulling a sad face. “At first, after losing my Aunt in that awful car crash, I didn’t even want the place. But now, It’s all I have to remind me of her. I can't lose it, Robbie!”

“Didn’t you say she died in a boating accident? Robbie asked as he screwed up his makeup-covered face.

“Yeah, a boating accident. That’s what I said.” Shar shot back.

“No, you said car,” Robbie replied, turning his head to one side, and curling his thick top lip.

“No, I definitely said boat,” Shar angrily replied while folding her arms. “I think I know how my own Aunt died, Robbie. “Why are you being so aggressive anyway? Thanks to you, I'm also stuck taking orders from this mad woman now.”

Concluding that his tired mind must have misheard her, Robbie lowered his head in shame. “I’m sorry, Shar” he muttered. “I’m so on edge at the moment, I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. I mean, look at me! Look at what that bitch has done to my body!”

“I know, honey,” Shar replied in a sympathetic voice. “But look on the bright side. At least you make an attractive woman. There are plenty of men out there that wouldn’t pass half as well as you do.”

"Err... I guess." Feeling embarrassed, Robbie changed the subject. “So, anyway, you said you were here to help me get ready for work. Did Agatha tell you what she’s making me do?”

“A little,” Shar replied. “She told me some of the details but not all. But why don’t I put the kettle on, and you can fill me in? After that, I’ll help you with your hair and makeup.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Robbie ran his fingers through his extended blonde hair. “Sure,” he sullenly replied. “Why the hell not?”

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Feeling as though his heart was about to burst through the front of his fitted blazer, Robbie clicked his way up the front steps of the Grand hotel. With his stride restricted by the tight pencil skirt wrapped around his pantyhosed thighs, he took tiny mincing steps as he approached the large, intimidating entrance.

“Good morning. You must be Miss James?” A Lady announced as Robbie entered, taking the skirted man by surprise.

“Urm… yes. But how did you know that?” Robbie asked, looking puzzled.

The woman smiled. “Well, the hotel uniform was a bit of a give away. And given that you’re the only new employee starting this month. I put two and two together,” The woman answered before chuckling loudly. “I’m Pamela, head receptionist here,” she added, extending her immaculately manicured hand. “I’ll be your line manager. So, if you ever have any issues. Big or small. You will bring them to me.”

“Err… Ruby,” Robbie slowly stuttered as he took the woman's hand and gave it a gentle shake. “Nice to meet you, Pamela.”

“Likewise, Ruby. Now, if you’d like to follow me, we’ll get you set up for your first day,” Pamela said while smiling broadly. "We're really excited to have you here. It's rare to find someone with as years of experience as you."

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Scanning the lobby from his position behind the front desk, Robbie slowly shook his head as a lock of long, blonde head fell in front of his heavily made-up face. Pushing it away while being careful not to scratch himself with his dangerously long nails (Something he had done many times over the past twenty-four hours), he puffed out his cheeks before slowly breathing out. He had been thrust into some stressful situations recently but being sat behind the front desk of the Birmingham branch of the Grand Hotel, just like he used to, day after day back in London was almost too bizarre to comprehend.

(See image 29)

Everything around him seemed so familiar, but at the same time, so different. From the wood-panelled desk to the abstract art decorating the walls, the interior of the lobby was an exact copy of his hotel in London. The only difference, it seemed, was him!

To make matters worse, all morning, he had been thinking back to his last shift in the London branch and the guilt he felt. That day he had (as usual) been sitting adjacent to a young girl called Carla. And also, as usual, he had spent most of his shift admiring her magnificent body. Filing out her uniform to perfection (the same uniform he now wore), she had tapped away on her keyboard with her long, sexy nails, occasionally turning to ask him some foolish question. Her flirtatious nature and her barbie doll looks had driven him crazy that day. To the point, where he’d told his girlfriend, Holly, that her own style was boring. He remembered thinking, at the time, why couldn’t she be more like Carla! Oh, how ironic it now was that he was the one who looked more like Carla. In fact, as terrifying as it was to admit, he now looked like an even more bimbofied version of her!