ing. Originally she had taken a yard or two of pale blue chiffon, attached it to one shoulder and draped it down the back and across the front, below the waist, with a second fastening at the hip. It was quite intact, in need only of ironing. And next time she went shopping she would look for some stockings; furthermore, she insisted on washing and ironing the lingerie, and on my wearing beneath everything a pair of tight elastic briefs she sometimes wore under swim suits.

All this was, of course, tremendously exciting to me, but I was careful to conceal my pleasure, Alison being quite sure I had gotten over my transvestite urges (!!). I did not want to upset her. So while she was deciding what to do with the dress I stood, moved, and held myself in my normal masculine way. As she methodically made a list of the accessories I'd need I even sat down with my legs apart and the skirt pulled up. Glancing my way she said lightly, “Now you can't sit like that at the party!” I grunted, pulled my dress down and crossed my legs. She made no further comment.

How wonderful it is to have the interested cooperation of a woman when one is preparing to dress up! As I got out of the things upstairs, leaving them on the guest-room bed as Alison had requested, my mind went back nearly twenty years to the first time I'd had a woman's help in this way. In answer to a newspaper ad offering good quality used women's dresses, I went round to the address of a Mrs. Finlay to try on a dress she said might suit me. Over the phone I had said I was to take a female part in a college play, and that I had an allowance to spend on my costumes. She sounded pleasantly amused, quite interested, and very readily agreed to my request that I try things on. She turned out to be a large smiling woman, perhaps forty years old, who conducted me to her drawing-room where some clothes were draped over the arms of two easy chairs. When I said I particularly wanted an evening gown, she pulled out a long black crepe gown with halter straps and a soft black belt that knotted in front, the ends draping down one side. “Anyway, I'll leave you to try it on. Knock on the door when you're ready," she smiled. “And oh," she added as she turned to leave, "you can see if these fit you— they do go nicely with the dress." She handed me a pair of gilt evening slippers that were little more than a sole and a heel, with a complicated-looking arrangement of fine straps to go round the instep and heel.

I was out of my own clothes in a moment, feeling decidedly strange being naked in a stranger's house as I reached into the bag I'd brought with some underclothes in it. Hurriedly, I wriggled into a two-way

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