54 CONTEMPORARY TV FICTION

What he wrote was innocent enough, yet HOW he wrote it unnerved me! Uniquely feminine words like, "dreamy" "lovely" "pretty" and "scrumptious" were scattered throughout. His signing off with just a "W" left me anxious and bewildered.

It took me much longer than it should've, but I eventually wrote back. Telling of my B+ grade point average and football prowess, I consciously avoided asking Wayne about himself.

But with exams and sports consuming all my time, my letter writing tailed off. By Christmas break it stopped altogether.

At the start of spring term, I was just Ron Pruitt, student. With no football, I arrived on campus early to get a head start. "Got your face in a book, again?" Matt sniggered, staggering home after a night of drinking. "You'll go blind, man!"

Glancing beyond my Econ' text, I just smiled. But seeing a curled magazine beneath his arm I laughed, "And same to you! A sports rag, no doubt."

"You mean this? Heck no. Here, catch!"

Matt flung the magazine right at me. "FASHION magazine? In FRENCH? What gives?"

"French, huh? Some weird chick left it at the bar. The words are Greek to me, but the pictures are AWESOME!" "Tell me about it!" I chuckled, ogling the cover.

"The hot pictures start on page 57 The babe's a KNOCKOUT!"

Matt watched for my reaction as I flicked ahead. "I'm giving up economics for this, so it'd better be good!"

"I GUARANTEE! Some babe, huh?" "Yeah," I gulped nervously. "A real BABE!" "Ron, you're as white as a ghost?"

"Oh no, just indigestion," I lied. "Say do you mind if I keep it. There's an article about..."

"ENJOY!" Matt laughed. "I'm going back to the bars!"

When Matt left, I ripped out a section, cussing, "Damn you, Wayne! You're TOO weird...and darn SEXY!

His chocolate brown mane had grown incredibly long, stretching to his tiny waist. Alluringly posed, his pink glossed lips pouted coyly as his ultra-svelte figure modeled a seethrough lace dress.

BOSOM BUDDY -55 From cover to cover, I scanned the magazine, searching for any other photos. To my chagrin, I found one.

Posed among other girlishly built models, Wayne wore only a brassiere. The caption read, "THE OUTSTANDING BRA. And it was! Pushing his bosom up and in, it created remarkably deep cleavage!

Folding the pilfered pages, I hid them away. But when I tried studying again, it was no use. Unable to shake Wayne from my mind, I did something foolish. . .I wrote to him!

It was only a "hi, how are you" letter. But I couldn't help mentioning those magazine photos.

The following week, I got his reply...another perfume laden letter! With Matt away in class, I went to my room and read it. Wayne's writing had always been messy. Yet now, who'd think the delicate, swirling script was inked by anyone but a real girl!

My heart raced and hand quivered as I unfurled the flowery stationary. A second, smaller, envelope dropped from between the sheets of scented paper. Putting it aside, I began to read. "Dearest Ron, I simply adored your last letter..."

"OH BOY!" I shuddered aloud. "I'd better stop here!" But I didn't. And by the time I finished reading, my emotions surged, leaping from anger to shame to total confusion!

It was hard to fathom how romantically he wrote, but there was no denying the obvious! Part of me wanted to believe that Wayne was still an all American guy. But whatever was happening to him in Paris, it was sure taking a hefty toll!

As I hid his letter away with the others, I realized there was

a forth page. Reading it was a BIG mistake!

"P.S., Darling, I've enclosed my most recent photos. I know you'll appreciate their artistic value. . .Always yours, WENDY!"

I muttered, nervously pondering what "ARTISTIC" meant. Placing the letter aside, I anxiously fingered the enclosed envelope. I shouldn't have looked.

"GAWD! I gasped. "NUDES!"

Wayne's small, pert breasts and petite feminine curves adorned each astonishing photograph. In a panic, I searched for signs of his manhood. But his willowy figure and endlessly long hair had been posed so strategically, it disguised any detection.