RANSVESTIA

was a little heavier, of course, but though in her forties was as trim, neat and unscathed as a woman of thirty. We kissed. “There's always something I've wanted to do with you," she smiled. We undressed to- gether in the bedroom. Down to her slip, a coffee-colored nylon satin thing that stopped several inches short of her knees, she looked so ravish- ing I swept her into my arms; her bottom wriggled as it had done long ago. My hands told me she wore only panties underneath. We made love. "I knew it would be good," she murmured into my ear. And in the two days we still could spend together it became better and better. Only once did I feel a tear run down her cheek.

"It's awful, darling,” she said, “I don't remember growing older."

WAITING

You brought me make up for my face Pretty silk and lovely lace.

You gave me dresses and pretty shoes, And all these things I have to use.

But with these things I have to wait, For you to enter through the gate

Home from work, it's up to you, Either lovely lace or denim blue.

You gave me things for me to use,

I wish you'd hurry up and choose.

Either man or woman you can be, And I really hope that you pick me!

Marsha, R. I.

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