RANSVESTIA

"Oh, that's my sandwiches," Harry told him. Harry had to squirm a bit because he kept some things besides his lunch locked up in that satchel and some of them were rather foreign to the nightwatchman's trade. For example there was a lingerie bag containing about two dozen pair of nylon hose of various shades and types. It was impossible, of course, to borrow hose from the store and replace them in mint condi- tion. He also had a lot of his own makeup as it was often difficult to find good samples at the makeup counter on one and too inconvenient to carry makeup from one up to the beauty salon on four where he dressed. In addition to the hose and makeup he kept his picture album, some film, flashbulbs, and the latest copy of Transvestia, a magazine for people interested in crossdressing, in the satchel.

Parker wasn't satisfied with Harry's answer, however. "Man, now that's lot of sandwiches you must have in there. You sure you ain't got some comfort in there to tide you over these rainy nights?”

Harry had to let out a good chuckle. It was evident now what Parker was getting at. "No, no," he assured his friend. "Gregory would have me fired in a minute if they caught me sneaking a bottle in here.”

"Well, how's he gonna know." Parker wanted to hear. They con- tinued to chat in this vein until nearly quitting time when Parker and the other custodians left for the weekend. It was raining hard as he let them out at the Fourth Avenue entrance to catch the busses south. The thunder was crackling again and Harry could see lightning between the buildings across Fourth Avenue.

Alone at last in the big store Harry felt the surge of desire within him to dress as a woman. He had been living with this desire most of his life. It seemed that he could not recall a time even in his childhood when the desire to crossdress had been entirely absent. How it began he could not say. He did know what it had become. It was a peculiar thing this transvestism. There was so much satisfaction and beauty in it and yet it seemed so ridiculous when viewed from other standpoints. The idea of a man getting all dolled up as a woman it made him laugh some times just thinking of himself. In periods of self analysis and introspec- tion he sought to identify the source of his attraction but the question still begged for an answer. Earlier in his life he had read literally volumes on the subject and had even taken adult education courses in psychology in an attempt to understand the nature of this tormenting interest. Those were the days when each experience with crossdressing provoked a commensurate measure of guilt and erosion of his own self respect. But

10