RANSVESTIA

—

I drew in a deep breath and held it for a while. God! I must be going off my gourd, standing talking to myself in the middle of the night, wearing a ball gown and wondering what the hell life is all about. “Talk to the girl . . ." Wendell said? Sure why not? Who knows her better than I? As a matter of fact, I was pretty well shocked out of my fantastic composure when Wendell had said that. That meant that he knew an awful lot that I would just as soon nobody knew. I wondered how many times he had seen me? Coming out here at night when everybody was sleeping, wearing some cheap clothes I'd bought at the local dime store. “Different, though, tonight.” My voice again. “Tonight, you're dressed in the height of luxury none of the dime store trash for you, blue-eyes. A taste of the good life, thanks to the generous nature of your friendly neighborhood local fruit merchant."

(Mighty easy to get used to. Definitely ruins all chances for enjoyment like it used to be. Marvelous feeling like this. Couldn't sleep tonight, even if I wanted to. What memories!)

“What you always wanted, wasn't it?” the voice croaks out in the bright stillness. “Didn't you always want to get all dressed up and go to a Ball and all the rest of it? Then what's the beef?”

have to be

(Nothing. Who's complaining? I very nearly got down on my knees and begged when Whendell had come up with the idea in the first place. Naturally, however, one must appear properly cautious careful of one's reputation. What reputation? At eighteen done anything to even work up a reputation about.)

you haven't

not

Well, then still have to be cautious about this sort of thing only because of the family (step-family. Please note the correction!. Have to be careful about letting Wendell get the wrong idea. Especially somebody like Wendell. “I don't swing that way.“

Be careful in front of Wendell? Who are you kidding? He's got you pegged all the way down the line. At least it seems that way, doesn't it? And he knows about your moonlighting.

Interesting thought how come? Does he get the urge to go walking around at night, wearing his girl-clothes, too? There wouldn't seem to be any need for that not for somebody as obvious as old Wendell.

Old Wendell — a funny thought about that. He's so obvious, why should there be any secret about him? But there is.