his hat to me and said, "Good evening, Ma'am." I managed to smile slightly and nod.

Nancy linked her arm in mine and we walked along the street to the car. We walked slowly, as I still hadn't become accustomed to high heels.

When we reached the car, Nancy opened the door for me and helped me in. I sank into the cushions with relief, for my ankles ached fiercely. Nancy slid in behind the wheel, and looked over at me.

"Darling," she said, smiling, "You're slipping already. Pull your skirt down and sit with your knees together."

I looked down. The hem of my dress had slipped high up my legs, exposing my nylons and garters. Habitually, I had slumped into a masculine position in the seat, with my legs apart.

Hastily, I tugged my dress down over my knees and put my legs to- gether demurely. I resolved that I would not be so careless again, and would "think femme" as long as I was dressed as one.

Nancy drove smoothly through traffic until we had left the city be- hind us and were speeding along a dark country road. Finally, she turned off the highway onto a dirt road, and a few minutes later we pulled up in front of a large, well-lighted house.

"We're here," she said, getting out of the car, and coming around to open my door. I stepped out, a bit clumsily since I was still unused to the hobbling effect of my tight dress, and again she took my arm, as much to steady me as to appear masculine, I think.

"Now, don't worry," she said. "You don't have to try to pass here. This is a masquerade party, and no one will think it odd if they dis- cover a man under your dress."

"I'm not worried now," I said. “And I'm not a man, I'm a woman, can't you tell?"

Nancy laughed. "All right darling, you're a woman. Let's go."

We walked up to the door and rang the bell. It swung open immedi- ately, and we entered to the cacophony of a cocktail party in full swing.

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