Transvestia

press in about me. Unconsciously I crossed my legs so that the motion and the sensations it brought heightened the feeling. I closed my eyes and in- haled deeply. Nerves tingled.

"Hello Evelyn." A masculine voice at my side snapped my reverie. A tall, neatly dressed man stood smiling at me. "You're looking well. Been on a

vacation?" he asked.

"Oh! No, not recently, Mark,' " I answered auto- matically.

me

He glanced briefly at Juniper. Then, back to as his smile warmed, "Good to see you in town again. Maybe we can have dinner soon. Mind if I call?"

"I'd love it. I'm still at the same place.

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"This week," he said and, nodding to Juniper, he joined several associates at the bar.

"And who was THAT?" Juniper asked from behind a broad grin. "His name is Mark Covington," I an- swered. "At one time we were quite close. He asked me to marry him once, but----" Suddenly I realized what I had done. For the first time I had a perfectly clear recollection from Evelyn's past. It came so naturally that I would have passed it by had it not been for Juniper's question.

She was obviously aware of what was racing through my mind and took both my hands in hers to calm me. "You see, it does work," she said softly.

For the remainder of the hour, she explained many more things to me. I learned that the room in which I had spent the night was not actually a hotel but was part of a complex operated by the government for the rehabilitation of "Misplaced Personalities." While tax funds were used, the work itself was done

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