Sonja cornered Greg. Sonja only spoke Spanish. Greg couldn't speak a damn word of Spanish other than what was listed on the Mexican drive thru menu. No matter. Sonja persisted, requesting all sorts of Latin dance music, mariachi music, cumbias. Usually, when Sonja walked through the doors everyone fled.
Sonja then hunted employees down, asking, "Speakee Spanish? Speakee Spanish?"
John and João, completely fluent, ducked into corners. Yet Sonja was exceptional in tracking down the help she wanted.
The two she preferred were Greg and João. Both guys continually pushed the other towards Sonja. Both were unnerved by her. Maybe they were a little phobic.
Once upon a time, Sonja had been a guy. Still had a male voice, though she used a breathy falsetto. Haircut styled into a casual black pageboy. Usually wore jeans and a t-shirt. Tight t-shirt. She had a nice rack, hefty. Budget had definitely been allocated there. Unsure about other regions, which was what Greg or João tried to convince the other to investigate.
Along the way, something must have happened. Something bad. Financial problems, perhaps.
Sonja began to revert.
Still had those big boobs. Also had a big, bushy mustache. And she / he still wanted Latin music. Wanted Greg or João. Or anyone who could, "Speakee Spanish."
And you know how some girls stand really close to guys?
And accidentally brush them?