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another pair, please."

"

She glanced at my leg, nodded and asked, "And what is the size please?"

Much to my surprise and without even thinking, I told her. Luckily, she immediately turned to the shelves behind her for the look of surprise at my instant reaction to her question was something I could not keep from my face. The customer next to me threw a curious glance but went on about her fingering of the display articles.

After she had shown me the shade of the new stockings, the salesgirl stepped from behind the counter and invited me to follow her to the dressing rooms at the rear of the store. While I knew I had nothing to fear, since I was externally one hundred percent female, a new puzzlement took hold of me as we stepped through the curtains and passed a row of small booths in which several women in various stages of undress were trying on clothes.

"Here we are,

"the clerk smiled as we came upon an empty booth. "You can drop your old stockings in

the waste basket."

Alone now, and still feeling somewhat out of place, I lifted my skirt and unfastened the stockings from the supporters of my pantie girdle. As I sat to remove them, a voice from the next booth called, "Honey, could I trouble you for a cigarette?" The owner of the voice stepped around the corner and stood before me clad in a shiny, pink satin slip.

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"Yes, here you are, I said fumbling through my purse trying to understand my sudden embarrass- ment at her appearance. She was quite buxom and from her unsteadiness before me, I gathered that she had been drinking. I handed her the pack and a book of matches, smiled and removed my torn stocking. As I slipped on the new one and slid my skirt up to

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