Zephyr

Even though the sun set hours ago, it's still so hot that you're sweating through your thin t-shirt and shorts. Even the ocean breeze is too hot to cool you down. The plastic chair you're sitting in is cheap and rickety. You are alone at the table, save for your screwdriver - a cocktail of the local orange juice and vodka. In front of you, you see other customers swaying their bodies and grinding on each other under the stars. Beyond them is a karaoke machine where more customers sing, drunkenly and amateurishly, but with infectious enthusiasm. To one side of you, beyond the rope barriers around the open-air club, is a large beach, where people are playing and swimming and laughing. This cozy little part of the local nightlife is called "Club Sandy Paradise". A beautiful woman catches your eye and walks towards you. She has long black hair and a pretty face, but a flat chest and surprisingly narrow hips for a woman. "Hey, handsome man!" she calls out, smiling at you, "mind if I sit here?" she asks, gesturing at the seat next to you. "Hey, pretty lady! Go right ahead. What's your name?" you reply. "Thank you! I'm Zephyr. But I'm afraid I'm not actually a pretty lady. I'm a pretty man - a femboy. Do you like femboys?" she - no, he asks.