Transvestia

Kay then combed my blonde hair down on either side of my face and, taking my chin in her hand, she accented my eyebrows with a black pencil, powder- ed my face and drew a bright red outline on my lips with her lipstick.

Then she stood me in front of her mirror and told me to look at myself. I was amazed at the transfor- mation she had wrought in me. There before me stood a fairly pretty blonde girl, with nice shapely legs and straight hips. Kay remarked that I would make a very pretty little girl and that anytime I liked I could play with her clothes. I didn't think too much of it at the time for I didn't believe I'd be playing girl again for a long time. The pattern had been cast and how wrong I was!! We spent the whole afternoon in Kay's room, trying her clothes on me, rearranging my hair and placing padding in the ap- propriate places. I enjoyed myself immensely and, I believe, she did too. Should I damn her for my transformation? I'll never know.

The memory of that silken garment against my skin would not leave me and, though Kay was never again with me when I played dress up, I made many trips to her room after that first day. I would sneak up the back stairs while Grand-ma, who didn't hear well, dozed in her chair. Many times I would take Kay's stockings and wear them to school, under my own, since I liked the feel of them against my skin. When I became older, fifteen or so, I had a job after school and I would take my money and buy articles of clothing, underwear, stockings, etc., and conceal them under my mattress. I realized in later years that my mother must have known they were there but she never said anything to me about them, a mis- take no doubt on her part for, when I was seventeen I inveigled her into letting me go to a church Hal- oween party as a girl and she helped me with some of her clothes, arranging my hair and making up my face. I was a tremendous success at the party and the pat- tern was set that has never left me through out my

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