Chapter 4

I found a job at a local tyre fitting shop, but that became untenable a few months later when the huge, beer-gutted foreman started calling me Amanda. Only he and I worked in the workshop, and although the reception area had a manager and receptionist, they were isolated from the work area. It started with Roger calling me names like faggot and queer boy, etc. However, it quickly degenerated when Roger realised I wouldn’t fight back. That wasn’t too bad because I’d received the same kind of abuse my entire life, and I was used to it.

The next escalation was because I preferred to wear women’s hip-hugger jeans and tight-fitting Hivis polos to work. Men’s jeans will not stay on my slender hips. Plus, I had mauve safety boots. I’d seen the ad saying that Steel Blue would donate ten dollars for every pair of pink, blue, or mauve boots bought to a worthy charity. I thought that sounded fair, so I purchased a mauve pair. I didn’t want blue and couldn’t risk pink.

I felt, more than saw, Roger admiring my ass every time I bent over. He even stood close behind me to see if he could spot what type of underwear I wore when my jeans’ waist gaped. I had boxers on, but that didn’t prevent him from asking, “So, are you a boy or a girl? I thought you were a boy when you started, but now I’m not so sure.”