Transvestia

discreet minimum of costume jewelry My make up was good and the soft waves of my hair felt comfort- able around my neck. I was called to the telephone to an inquiry requiring some information urgently from my office I am an Architect. Quickly slip- ping on my red coat and neck hugging dark brown fur collar, my black gloves and bag with me, I drove my car down town and parked near the office. As I walked along the sidewalk with other people, the slight breeze softly played with my hair and I felt that intense satisfaction of being accepted in pub- lic it took me back to when I had lived as a woman for a period, in London.

At the office, I looked up the information then, as is my custom, I lit a cigarette and sitting down, for no particular reason, at my secretary's desk, I telephoned the inquirer and after a lengthy conver- sation, hung up, stubbed out my cigarette and re- turned home.

Next morning, I was speaking to my secretary when she noticed that a cigarette had been stubbed out in her ashtray by someone else. There it was smeared with my bright French lipstick. She looked round at the other four girls menacingly, before throwing the remains in the waste paper tin. The look on her face would have charred any victim to a cinder it was all I could do to keep a straight face. Back in my own office, I laughed so much, that I grabbed my hat and went for a walk.

My wife and I often laugh about this incident and wonder which of the girls got the blame!

JOAN FNZ-C-1