RELUCTANT PRESS

"Well, I am not going to bed for several hours yet but I will try an application right now."

"Yes, do," said Paula approvingly

I applied the new unguent delicately while she helped herself to another scotch at my invitation. "There. any change yet?"

"Don't be daft, lad"

It was a delightful evening and at 8 o'clock I suggested we go out to dinner, which is exactly what we did.

*****

I suppose I saw Dr. Paula almost every other day after that. Our relationship had graduated to a regular Saturday morning squash date, and giving her a playful wallop across the bum with a squash racquet now and then was accepted with arch equanimity. I would have preferred to have done it by hand, of course, but I am a slow mover.

Several weeks after our first date we were descending in the lift together to the car park.

"That cream has done wonders for your complexion, you know," said Paula, eyeing me with clinical approval.

Men, of course, don't have 'complexions' in the accepted sense of the term but that was the word she used. I, of course, was thrilled with the effects that Androgyny was having. The pores at the side of my nose were almost completely closed up. My skin was a lot less greasy and looking much more like a woman's facial epidermis.

Even Mildred, the school secretary, said to me, "You had

a face-lift or something, love?"

"What on earth do you mean?"

"Nothing, only you seem to be looking much younger these days like Dorian Gray must have looked."

I accepted the compliment with a mysterious smile. Then a 'wicked' thought occurred to me. What if I invited Paula to lunch on Saturday after squash and dressed up for the occasion. I somehow divined that she would not be horribly thrownthe contrary possibly!

JOYCE'S GIRLS BY JOYCE

I had once fantasized that I had a pair of magic glasses and when worn, people would appear in shades of blue. The light blues were inimical and hostile towards TVism but the lush dark blues were accepting and embraced the sight of a TV with joyful glee. As one gets older, one acquires this skill anyway, or to a degree at least. I suspected that Paula would be a deep and lush, plush blue, like Gainshorough's BLUE BOY's knickerbockers.

The lunch date was duly arranged for after squash the following day. We always retired to our respective flats for a shower and change; had I had the nerve I would have suggested we shower together but for all her friendliness, she exuded a faint aura of 'touch-me-not,' buster.

I generally read in bed for an hour or so but that Friday night I found concentration pretty well impossible.

"You must be stark raving bloody mad, I muttered to myself as I applied the 'marge' for the sixteenth time I had never indulged in a caper of this sort in my life before. I could always change my mind at the last minute of course, if I got cold feet.

Saturday dawned wet and cool, the sort of weather that always turned me on a bit. Still undecided, I went through the motions of a typical pre-dressing-up bath Nair (legs and underarms), a ten minute fiddling around with eyebrows, to be followed by a long, happy, sybaritic soak. I always shaved while sitting in the bath and always used a new blade. I emerged 30 minutes later soft and pink and sweet smelling I had applied a scented talcum powder fairly liberally.

Donning on a very unisex track suit and tennis shoes I went shopping for the lunch to come. I returned to the flat with plenty of time to do my nails which meant shaping them and applying an undercoat. I had done my spade work. Our squash date was at 11 a.m. and we always played for one hour.

On this fateful day, Paula thrashed me three nil. She played with aggression and panache although I generally managed to take one game in three.

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