Everything was moist and clinging-wet as it dropped to the floor. Soon the blouse with its mod Gibson Girl collar, the skirt, the nylon slip which had only added to his discomfort, the brassiere and the binding panty-girdle and the stockings which had clung to his legs in clammy tenacity throughout his entire shopping trip, all lay in a rumpled pile at his feet.

As he stepped into a showering stream of refreshingly cool water, Cass breathed a sigh of relief and swore that he would never—at least not until Fall-go shopping again in that uncomfortable outfit!

*

* *

AD

"It's all right with me if women stop wearing bras-but if they stop manufacturing them, what about us transvestites?"

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