RANSVESTIA

Chiltern Hills beyond. It was a lovely spot, though I, so completely and smartly dressed, could perhaps be excused for indulging a strong degree of narcissism. The fur snuggled into my neck, and it was a novelty to feel the movement of a woman's coat about me, for I had not worn one before. Like Gillian's dress, it had a faint scent a more sophisticated one of its owner. It was a further layer of a cocoon, banishing even deeper within its layers my boyishness. As the padded bra modified and concealed my chest and the girdle and lingerie and stockings of them- selves made a feminine statement, the pretty, skirt-swirling dress and the coat gave a sort of final confirmation to the intrinsic yet subordi- nate elements. The gloves, jewelry and handbag were forms of delicate emphasis to a firmly-established thesis. Since then I have never really wanted to wear female garments beneath men's clothing - it is a para- dox, even a heresy.

"Let's walk, children," butted in Gillian, "my legs are getting bloody cold." Continuing on the path that now meandered through an orchard we came to a gate in the high Tudor garden wall, leading to the main road outside the grounds of the house. The road was indifferently lit by widely-spaced lamp-posts. Two or three cars passed along as we made our way to the main gate and the driveway leading up to the front door. What at least looked like three young women walking at night in such a neighborhood in England of 1938 did not invite interference, or even comment. As car lights illuminated us for brief moments I enjoyed a vague feeling that I was misbehaving myself (it was not an unpleasant feeling) but I did not lower my head or try to conceal myself in any way. Claire and Gillian were perfectly at ease anyway, so why should I spoil the party? I matched my stride to theirs as I walked between them, their arms in mine. I envied the natural girl-ness of my companions; they would be wearing exciting underthings tomorrow and would have the choice of all kinds of outer clothes and accessories. And the next day and all the other days. But then I realized, somewhat precociously for one not yet quite sixteen, that to them female clothes were just clothes, to be worn within the conventions of their sex, things to be put on and off without any particular deep satisfaction or erotic stimu- lation. The novelty was limited to me. Neither Claire not Gillian would think deliciously, as she walked along, of a slip and bloomers that flowed and alternately rippled and tautened under her dress in rhythmic re- sponse to regular movement. Neither would be particularly happy about not wearing boys' heavy flat shoes. Neither could feel that shiver-making naughtiness from putting on clothes one wasn't normally supposed to put on, for the simple fact that there was no prohibition for them.

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