RANSVESTIA

I could still picture the sign on Sylvia Stern's desk, the impossible, bitch, gold-lettered sign, that read "Women Only Men Banned."

Even now, even after a whole month of thinking about it, it still seemed impossible that the F.C.C. would even issue such an impossible call let- ter combination as WOMB. There were other WOM combinations WOMA, WOMO, even WOMS, but how did Sylvia pull off the naus- eating combination of WOMB? Did anyone in Lewisburg know? Did the F.C.C. know?

I thought about how I had driven all the way across the west end of the state listening to some syrup-voiced female announcer that first day. I hadn't figured the gimmick because a lot of 250 watters I'd worked for had used girls on swing-shifts. And every time her creamy voice had identified the station she had let the "B" trail off into a WOM . . . B.

And I still hadn't really been thinking about the WOMB part, even after seeing the gleaming low-built building. I'd been more curious about the jazzy little foreign compact jobs on the station's parking lot.

Inside, as I'd walked down the polished tile floor of the corridor the intense perfume had been something else to consider. Then I'd discov- ered where most of the Chanel No. 5 fragrance was coming from when I opened the door marked: Sylvia Stern, Manager.

A female station manager I'd mused. But even this hadn't clued me in. It was different, but not impossible. But by then I'd become too intox- icated by the sight of the plushy carpeted room. Sunlight had streamed from some large modern windows framing a lucious giant of a blonde seated at desk. Her cool green eyes had met mine in a steady momen- tary gaze as we both surveyed each other. Then her lips had parted in a half-moon and she asked, "Did you have an appointment

"Don Dillon," I'd broken in, "I just got in town. I'm a DJ, but I can double as engineer."

She'd slithered up out of the leather-covered chair without letting the curious twist of her lips change. Then she'd let her eyes drift over me again as she said, "You're cute, Donny, real cute. And you've got the kind of shrill girlish voice we could use. How do you look in a dress, with a wig and everything?"