RANSVESTIA

With mock dignity Gillian rose to her feet, brushed back her hair, and held out her hand regally to me: “Come, Agatha, we are surround- ed by Grandmother Claire, defened by the click of her needles, drowned in the stuffy stinks of peppermint, China tea and woollen shawls." This in a most precious, supercilious tone. Linking her arm through mine she led me through the main dining-room to the music room, where she sat down at the piano, making me sit on the stool beside her, and then with the most delicate and sensitive touch imaginable played some Brahms. Claire wandered in, winked at me, and sat down nearby. Gil- lian's face had changed; she was somewhere else for a moment. I had yet to learn that this clown of a girl was a highly accomplished pianist, a competent painter in oils, a brillian academic student, and a champion- ship-calibre tennis player. Her knowing fingers flowed over the key- board as I watched and listened, entranced. Claire had silently come up behind me, resting her hand on my shoulder. I pulled my arm slowly between us, behind Claire and gently laid my hand on her waist. No re- sistance. I tightened my hold, pulling her to me so that her hip pressed into me, her white dress against the black of mine. I had cuddled and kissed girls before, but this was as if I hadn't touched or held any girl before. One soft finger stroked the skin beneath the narrow shoulder band of my dress. I trembled. And I could feel Claire's warmth as she pressed more firmly into me. The music stopped. "Please leave your contributions in the box by the door," said Gillian. Then she began playing popular music. When it was a slow waltz I got up, looked into Claire's eyes, and quite naturally began to dance with her, I leading. We glided, turned and spun about the open parquet floor, through the open door into the dining room. Out of Gillian's sight Claire stopped, looked with parted lips into my eyes and pressed closer to me. My lips moved over hers. I tightened my arms about her. She wriggled her hips slowly and emitted a whispered "Ohhhh!" In reply I whispered, "Damn this lipstick I've got on." She flicked out a little handkerchief from some- where and quickly tied out mouths and we danced back into Gillian's presence.

Our final activity of the evening was a walk at the energetic Gillian's suggestion. For me she produced a straight-cut light grey coat of her mother's with black fur trimming the collar and cuffs, while she and Claire tossed nondescript school raincoats over their shoulders. Still not satisfied with my appearance, Gillian found some black gloves' which were a bit of a struggle to put on but which were elegant, and handbag to drape over my arm. Calling to Mary that we wouldn't be long and that she needn't stay up any more, Gillian led the way down a long path to a summer house, from which we could see the river and the

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