length manuscript on Hiking and Camping for Women and asked if I'd be interested in publishing it. I told her I'd read it and get back to her.

I remember particularly well the circumstances under which she gave it to me, because I was wearing a dress at the time. Oh, we weren't doing anything kinky, you understand, we had just been invited to a masquerade party and I decided to go as a hooker. Now when I do something, I go all out to do it right, so I must say I made a very convincing and very appealing prostitute, with my shaved legs, stockings, high heels, padded clothing, and careful makeup and hairstyling. Mavis remarked on how complete my transformation was and how convincingly female I looked. Neither of us thought much of it at the time, but it was to have serious repercussions later on.

Mavis' book turned out to be one of those sticky questions that test a publisher's savvy: A well-written book on an unknown subject. I could tell right away that, properly promoted, this book could go into three or four printings. But I also knew that left to itself, or put out without a lot of publicity, it would be lucky to break even. I weighed the prospects carefully in my mind. A book like this could create a real fad for Women's Camping. My mind wandered a bit, thinking of nubile young ladies sporting in the woods, hiking, swimming, skinny-dipping....

And then it hit me.

This book I was holding in my hands was more than just words on paper; It was Leverage. Leverage I could use to see my life-long sexual fantasy fulfilled.

I set the manuscript back on my desk and walked into the private lounge that adjoins my office. There, I fixed myself a drink, relaxed on the sofa, and put on some videotapes from my private collection. Tapes of women whose clothes are stolen while they bathe in woodland lakes and streams.

the idea began to take shape.

so as I say, Mavis," I sat back in my comfortable chair, looking at her across the polished desk-top, "It has all the earmarks of a real winner. This book, properly promoted, could make you rich and famous and get a lot of women into Hiking and Camping. That's why I'm reluctant to publish it."

"Whatever do you mean?" She asked, sitting tense and straight

in front of me. My carrot-and-stick approach was working.

"I mean that these all-girl hiking trips that you advocate sound very attractive. Maybe too much so. There are a lot of problems that could befall a group of women in the wild--"

"But I deal with all that in my book," She interrupted.

"I know you do," I countered, "I'm just not sure that your solutions really work. And if they don't, you and I could get into a lot of legal trouble for writing and publishing this book."

"But they do work," Mavis insisted, "Everything I've put into those pages is something I've done myself."

"Perhaps these ideas are reliable," I said, tapping the manuscript, "Or maybe you were just lucky. the point is, I Have to know personally that they really work before I put this thing out."

I could see she was having second thoughts about having submitted her manuscript to me in the first place, so I held out the carrot again.

"When I publish a book," I said, "I publish for mega-sales.

I don't believe in just dropping a book into the marketplace and listening for ripples. I line up ads, network reviews, talk shows, the works. So before I take on a book, I've got to believe in it."

"Fine," She said, obviously warming to the idea again, "So how can I convince you? Do you want to talk to some of the ladies in my Camping Group? Check the facts out with a Naturalist? "

"I want to go along with you and your group on one of your trips and see for myself."

The look on her lovely face when I dropped this bombshell spoke volumes. I could see her mentally start to say things like:

--This book is just for women. How could you, a man--

--My group is an all-female group, many of whom are ardent feminists. They would never accept you, a man, accompanying us--

--You know nothing about camping and very little about feminism. So how could you--

: and each time, I could see her biting the words back as she thought of the sales, adulation, money and influence that went with being a best-selling author.

It was time for me to let her stew a little. Using my knee, I pressed a secret button under my desk to let my secretary know I wanted to be interrupted.

BZZZT! The intercom sounded.

"Mr. Stanton to see you, Sir," Her voice crackled over the wire. "Right!" I snapped my fingers, as if suddenly remembering, then turned back to Mavis.

"This'll just take a minute," I said, "And I don't want to lose our train of thought. Would you mind waiting in my lounge while I go over some illustrations with this guy?" She assented, and I led her to my private, sound-proofed den.

"Just relax and fix yourself a drink," I said, showing her in, "This won't take a second."

I left her there and returned to my desk, where I proceeded

to do the Crossword Puzzle.

Twenty minutes later, I decided that Mavis had stewed long enough.

I tapped on the door to my private den and opened it.