Transvestia

good-sized old fashioned room with my treasures.

At about 10:15 by my little gold wrist watch everything was ready. I checked the contents of my purse, slipped my gloves over my hands with their suddenly longer fingernails, tugged gently at my short dangly earrings to make sure they were tight, and looked closely at my new image in the mirror. The long eyelashes were firmly attached - I had brushed the adhesive along the length of my own lashes as well as along the base line, so they were really stuck to me, my eyes looked deep and wide from the liner and mascara not overdone, but a lady in Paris isn't dressed without them. The lips were right - drawn a little over my normally slightly thin lip line, but not a big scarlet smear. "Remember, the effect is lady, not courtesan, or you'll be read." Good Susanna. Those evenings with her in New York, that weekend in the Catskills, where she was such a fountain of marvellous advice on how to project "woman", all these bits and pieces were now falling into place.

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Ready now? Oh, yes, just one more detail. Perfume. The pulse spots. Not too much. Not too musky. A little poke at the hairdo.

Now? Yes, now. Unlock the door, open it a little. More! Nobody there. Step outside. Now I've done it! Still time to slip back inside. Nobody will know. Now! This is the dream. Live it! Close the door, softly. Lock it. Walk to the stairs. Downstairs. Don't the heels feel fascinating going downstairs? Anybody looking? To the front door. Open it. Open it to the world. Here comes a quiet dream come true. The night air rushes around the legs. So cool. Odd. No. It's the way a girl feels when she opens the door. Step outside. Anybody staring? Still time to flee back in. No. Close the door, turn, start walking, start using those pretty shoes that were made for me. Hands above waist. Walk fluidly. Oh, how nicely those heels click! Oops, dragged one. Pick up feet. A few people on the street. A couple over there, strolling. They see nobody except each other. An old man coming toward me on the same sidewalk. I look through him. His eyes warm slightly. A compliment. He's gone. Up to the corner. There are some cobblestones in the pavement. Interesting in heels. Other people pass. I am seen but not studied. Suddenly, my reflection in a dark shopwindow! It's a woman! Skirt! Purse! Wonderful! Braver now. Nobody near. Try voice. Throw it to top of mouth. Just as good as it was when I practised it all the way in from Le Vavre. Contralto,

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