RANSVESTIA

"It's all right, Jennifer," she encouraged. "Your own mother wouldn't know you now. Just remember to be careful on the dock with those heels. I wouldn't want you to fall."

Boldly now I stepped out first and she joined me. linking her left arm into my right at the elbow. We walked about the yard, out on the dock where we inspected the boat and then back into the house. As I sat on the couch remembering to be feminine in my motions, ever conscious of the tight girdle and the lovely things I was wearing, she asked:

"What is your name, young lady?” Quickly I realized she was asking something that almost any adult could.

"I'm Jennifer Whaley!” I said softly.

"Where are you from?”

"Originally from Middlefield (a suburb of our home town), but we have moved to Plainsview within the past six months.” My mind was trying to anticipate the next questions.

"Is your father the Whaley who operated the garage there?"

Smiling, I answered: “No! Dad passed on when I was four. My mother has remarried. Her husband is in the military service."

"That's very good reasoning, Jennifer," she admitted. "Think ahead of people if you can. What would you have answered if I had asked for identification, as some officer might possibly do?”

“Gee, I don't know.”

"Why don't you look in your purse and see what there is to identify you?

Twisting the opening device of the handbag I opened it to find a well-filled purse. A red billfold caught my eye. Lifting it out I began to go through it. To my amazement I found a social security card, driver's license, bank book, Master charge card and revolving charge account card all with "Jennifer Ann Whaley" on them. Almost speechless I looked at her . . . "What . . . how did you...?"

"I've been working on this idea for more than four weeks, dear. I established credit for you, a bank account, obtained you a social security

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