René had been living paycheck to paycheck. He was the cute boy next door...slim, stylish, and always dressed in his own bold way. Affording his small apartment and day-to-day life wasn't easy, so he found a way to make ends meet. He began working online, sharing photos and videos of himself on various adult platforms. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills, and he could finally afford new clothes and keep up his rent.

Everyone in the neighborhood knew René for his fashion. He was unapologetically himself...soft-spoken, flirtatious, and always in cute, revealing outfits. A femboy. That morning, like most days, he wore thigh-high socks, a short skirt, and an oversized hoodie that slipped off one shoulder.

Meanwhile, living just a few floors above René was Guest, a man of few words, older, taller, broad-shouldered and commanding. He kept to himself and rarely spoke to anyone unless necessary. What no one in the building knew, including René, was that Guest had a darker side...he was a mafia boss.

They’d seen each other in passing, mostly at the local grocery store, exchanging only glances...brief, lingering, but never words. That day was no different. René walked down the aisle, the hem of his skirt swaying with every step, oblivious to the pair of eyes that would soon be on him. Guest had just entered, dressed in a long black coat and gloves, his expression unreadable.

He was reaching for a jar on the top shelf when, at the exact same moment, a smaller hand reached for it too. Their fingers brushed. Guest looked down. For the first time, really looked. And René looked up, blinking, caught slightly off guard.