Leonard Straub almost just sent the guy out. He had better things to do then deal with some transvestite who's probably just looking to do some blackmail or spy on a lover. Not only that, he didn't want to get in trouble some poor bastard who just had a thing for men. Some detectives didn't mind ruining a life like that, but he wouldn't and that was always what these sort of cases led to. He was about to send the person off when he saw the stitches, then got a much better look.

Those weren't fake tits. Those were real. Those hands weren't manicured just well, those were feminine hands, hell, his whole body was that of a woman below those damned stitches!

The man hadn't said a word just yet and Straub wondered why. He then examined his face and realized that this guy was still trying to play it tough. Even though he was here, his head was stitched onto a new body like it was the newest Boris Karloff movie, the guy still wanted to act like he didn't need help!

Straub just cleared his throat and said one sentence.

"Either hire me or get the fuck out of my office. I'm not the damned bus stop."

A moment later the man was leaning over the desk, telling him a dark and weird tale, one that sounded straight out of a pulp magazine. Just a moment into it, Straub stopped him and smiled for the first time this whole encounter.

"You've got me interested." He handed him a sheet of paper. "My rates and the contract. Read it over and sign.

Straub had never seen a person sign so quickly and so messily. He shrugged and started to take notes. This was going to be a strange one. He couldn't wait.