Transvestia

Grand entrance--there could be no other word. He had literally swept in the door and every eye was upon him as he had doffed the fur trimmed velvet cape in a reasonably good Veronica and stood for a dramatic half-moment in the light. He was dressed in red-velvet, a beautiful gown that left his shoulders and a good share of his back bare. The gown was a simple sheath that was slit to the knee, revealing a marvelous ankle atop a gold sandal. His hair was piled on top of his head, with a red satin ribbon that matched the brief sash, falling down his bare back.

There was an audible gasp from the rest of the assemblage.

"Lovely girl." said Professor Connors of the technical school.

Miss Quinn thought to herself, "Those poor kids-" meaning the other students, "they can't compete with something like this." Indeed, many of them were wearing formals that had graced very conservative high school proms. In point of fact, Miss Quinn herself felt just a bit dowdy and she had prided herself at never giving away points.

She was chagrined somewhat later to see Mr. Boyle dancing with no small amount of grace. "It figures." she muttered.

At an appropriate moment, while Mr. Boyle casually sipped a cup of punch, she approached him and found herself looking upward at him--the high heels, the upswept hair made him statuesque-- and she asked him quietly "Mister Boyle, I would wager every engineer in this room is wondering the same thing I am..."

"What is that?"

"Just how," she whispered, "are you keeping your dress up."

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