dress but this isn't the time. Besides, he insisted, "girls wear dresses, guys don't!"

In the store, Mary helped Chris like an older sister or mother. After numerous trips to the fitting rooms, Chris agreed on a pale grey

pantsuit with a wide black leather belt. It was a bit tight in the waist but Judy added a new panty girdle that, she said, would help his waistline. Then they talked him into taking a frilly matching blouse and a pair of black pumps with two-inch heels. Chris balked at the shoes but finally took them just to get out and home. But, no such luck. Mary insisted that the shoes would never look right if he wore regular socks, and she promptly suggested nylon stockings. He was so worn down by then that, when Mary asked him to choose, pantihose or nylons and garters, he took the pantihose as the lesser of the two evils. They had taken so long that he almost missed dinner, and he was exhausted.

Saturday afternoon Chris examined the image in the full-length mirror.. "Good grief," he mumbled. He seemed to be saying that to himself a lot lately. The pantihose were not that hard to put on but it felt really strange to be covered with thin nylon from toe to waist. The new hi-line

girdle rose almost to his ribs but it took at

least two inches off his waistline and allowed the wided belt to fit snugly while also giving smooth lines to the pantsuit. There he stood atop two-inch pumps in which he had to practice walking around the apartment for the last hour so they would feel more comfortable, wearing pantihose and a waist-cinching girdle under the new grey outfit and frilly blouse, his hairdo coiffed perfectly (with some expert help from Mary).

Checking the time, he picked up his purse, glanced at his reflection once more, and wondered if he might as well be in a dress!

Dr. Smith greeting was warm and congenial. "Chris! How wonderful to see you again."

Andrea

gave him an affectionate hug and a light kiss on his cheek. "Here, let me have a look at you." She looked him over admiringly, nodded her approval and ushered him into a large comfortable living room. "I want you to tell me all about what has happened to you since you arrived here. You look marvelous," she complimented sweetly. My "Well," he began, "I like it here a lot. job is pretty easy and sort of fun and my boss is one of my best friends, along with a few other ladies. Most of the other women are pretty nice, or at least tolerant. When I first saw the place I thought I'd be bored silly, but I'm busier than

I ever was in the city." He paused and frowned, putting on a worried look, as best he could. "But, Andrea! It's not at all what I expected. mean..., well, look at me! I'm dressed like a girl, and I even catch myself acting like one too. My friends Keep telling me I must try to fit in and that this is the way to do it. But it's very confusing, very strange. Why didn't you and that lawyer tell me about all this?" he asked.

"We did. "But, Chris, my dear," she said. Don't you remember? I told you this was a special place and that you would have to make a special effort in order to work at Greystone. And the documents you signed spelled out the conditions of your employment very specifically." She saw the unbelieving look in his eyes. "Oh, yes," she remembered. "As I recall you weren't that eager to read those papers very thoroughly, were you?" "Well," he admitted. "All that legaleze was a bit hard to wade through. I'm afraid I trusted you to know what I needed and were providing me a livelihood. I suppose I didn't use very good judgement." His voice rose slightly. "But I don't recall you saying anything about this job