with a girl-friend, and we could double-"

"Thanks anyway," Bernie interrupted. "I appreciate your offer to helpbelieve me, I do. It won't work, though. Girls don't like me. I'm just too dumpy looking, I guess."

"Aw, this time it will be different. You wait and see."

A look of deep sorrow covered Bernie's face. "Please don't ask me to do it, Frank. I can't stand any more humiliation. I just can't stand it!"

"Hey, calm down," Frank cautioned. "I'm sorry as heck, Bernie. I was only trying to help."

"I understand that, and I'm grateful deeply grateful. I'll never forget you for it. I swear I won't."

At that point Frank had tried to change the subject, and so the conversation turned to sports and politics. Finally, they finished eating, then the whistle blew and they returned to work. Despite the friendly interlude with Frank, Bernie spent the afternoon in misery.

Now the workday was over, and Bernie rested in the seclusion of his one-room apartment, contemplating the flake of paint. He closed his eyes and slept.

An hour or so later Bertha awakened him. In the soft mist of half-sleep he could hear her calling-demanding that he awaken. No one else could have heard her, for Bertha was buried deep within Bernie. She was his alter-ego. "Wake up, Bernie," she demanded inaudibly. "I want out of this cage!" "Give me time," Bernie pleaded, trying to shake sleep from his eyes. Bernie rarely argued with Bertha; she was the boss.

"After the miserable mess you made of things today," she said, "I feel in the mood to have a real fling!"

Bernie rose and walked to the stove where he turned the heat on under some stale coffee. "Let me get some coffee and wake up," he pleaded.

"Later!" she snorted. "I want out of here-and quick!"

Bernie sighed and turned the flame low under the coffee-pot. He wasn't really unhappy about Bertha's demands; he just didn't like being rushed. He removed his trousers and hung them neatly in the closet. Then he took off the rest of his clothing. Completely naked he moved to a bureau and opened the top drawer. "Take a shower first!" Bertha snorted angrily.

"Sorry, I forgot." Bernie answered. He snapped the drawer closed and walked into the bathroom. Minutes later he stepped from the shower and dried himself. Then he returned to the bureau.

Bernie removed a pair of orchid lace panties from the top drawer. He stepped into them, then pulled them snugly over his round, full hips. From the same drawer he extracted a white, padded bra which he quickly snapped into place. Bernie further dressed himself in a white panty-girdle, nylon hose, and a pink half-slip.

He moved into the bathroom, and before the mirror his experienced hand carefully applied lipstick, mascara, eyebrow pencil, and rouge.

"What dress do you want?" he asked Bertha.

"The red sheath," she answered. "Tonight I feel sexy!"

Bernie walked to the closet, opened the door, and looked among the dozen or so dresses which hung inside. He removed it, then pulled the dress down over his head. It was a very tight dress which clung to his padded figure like a second skin. Quickly he took a pair of red high-heeled shoes from the closet, then slipped his feet into them.

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