Amanda leaned back on the couch, her glass of wine perched delicately in her hand. The soft hum of John’s laptop fan drifted from the spare bedroom, where he was mid-stream on Chatturbate. She glanced at her phone, where the earnings ticked up steadily. $400… $450… $500. Her lips curled into a sly smile. This is almost too easy. She had discovered that John’s cross-dressing fetish wasn’t just a kink; it was a goldmine. Th...