Jo, Shemale Goddess! Part 2

Jo chuckled as the man in the sharp business suit looked hastily away when she looked up and caught him staring at her legs, again. Her 'Rupaul' legs as men with a history of watching men dressed as women called them, or her 'Naomi' legs as the newer ones to the scene seemed to think. Both divas had fabulous legs; Jo didn't mind being compared to either and it was certainly flattering to be compared to some of the best legs in the celebrity world.

She had never seen the man in the bar before. She would have remembered someone of his height. And if he had accidentally wandered into The Pink Panther Bar thinking, as some people did, that it was a reference to the movie, he wouldn't have stayed if he wasn't curious or looking for some action.

Picking up her glass of Shiraz she sauntered over and introduced herself, "Hey, big boy. I'm Jo."

"Hi Jo. I'm Alan." The man flushed as he stood up and pulled out the empty chair at his table to seat Jo. "You're probably wondering why I was staring at you earlier. You're so beautiful I couldn't help myself. Are you a model?"

"No, I'm a stylist. I work for Eboneé at the moment."

"You know Eboneé! Wow! She's a great singer, but so underrated because she's not good looking. She needs a makeov—," Alan stopped abruptly as he realized his faux pas. "I mean..."

Jo decided to take pity on the floundering man. "I know what you mean. If she looked like Rihanna or Beyoncé, she would sell ten times as many albums."

"It really shouldn't matter what she looks like," Alan sympathized. "It should be about her voice. Things have changed so much in the last ten years. Actresses model, models act, singers act and model...the world has gone crazy."

"I admire Eboneé for not changing her look." Jo defended her employer even though she'd had dreams of making the singer into a Black Lady Gaga when she had first become her stylist, but she had soon realized that the singer was not comfortable in anything too fussy or stylish.