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wander, free from the attention of his unwilling hos - tess. He had learned more about women in the last few hours than in ten years of cross-dressing; he didn't like some of it, but still more of it he DID like. And so, under one of the junk-piles in his mind, he began to build a little secret scheme. Details were still vague, but one thing was crystal clear if any- one wound up in that repulsive zombie body-or the pie-filling can, which would really be no worse would NOT be him. He gloried in the movements of the long, silky body under the shapeless clothes, and already thought of it as his. By the time the soreness of her finger drove Maria back to reality, his schemes were well concealed in an area where she had already seen, and dismissed as uninteresting, everything piled there.

And so home, for a late lunch which he was de- lightedly able to serve her, with her own hands, in his kitchen. Another dose of milk for the zombie, another ice bath for the finger, and she accounced "Nap." It appeared that they were to have a strenuous evening at the club, and he was wearv enough to wel- come the idea of rest. Incredibly, their deadly battle of a few hours before began to seem like a bad dream, and they relaxed on her bed like a couple of old friends- "brother and sister" she thought, as they drifted off to sleep.

This time Steve awoke standing in front of the mirror. Maria was grinning impishly at him, as he struggled free from some of the most confused dreams a person had ever experienced. "My," she said, "you did stir me up! I actually dreamed I was a man, and that you were me for keeps! Well, have fun this evening because tomorrow it'll all be straight again." She had discarded her drab clothes, and now began to dress in a way much more satisfying to him. What stepped out