Transvestia
Had I lost my mind? Had I sleep-walked into a woman's room during the night? Questions pounded as I strode to the window to think---trying to clear my head.
Granted, I was tired when I arrived last night. The trip from Denver to New York was never a pleasure for me, but I had made it many times before. As a free-lance writer, I felt it was good business to maintain a personal contact with the publishers who bought my material. But even in my wildest fiction I would never have concocted a crazy situation like the one in which I now found myself. No one would believe it!
At the window, I gazed down on the streets be- low. The day was dark. A steady drizzle had been falling since last night. The gloomy couds overnead matched my mood. Looking up, I noticed my reflect- ion in the glass for the first time. My hand in- stantly shot up to touch my hair. I was wearing a woman's wig! A swirl of auburn hair circled my head! I tugged fiercly at it only to feel a sharp pain in my scalp. The hair was mine!
Turning, I ran to the bathroom to check the more accurate view the large mirror would provide only to make an even more startling discovery when I glanced at my chest. Two lovely mounds of flesh stood out from beneath the gown I was wearing. I closed my eyes. If the hair were really mine, if the breasts were genuine, then-- I dared not dwell on the final detail. The touch of my hand through the filmy nylon told me all I needed to know. This was no prank!
Dizzily, I groped my way back into the room and sat on the edge of the bed repeating the same four words over and over: "I am a woman!"
My throat was dry. I longed for a cigarette. Automatically and without thinking, I got up and stepped to the bureau. Reaching for the brown leather
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