RANSVESTIA

with us. I had been madeup by the beautician before he entered the room. When he saw me, he said I was too pretty a girl to try and look like a man and that I had not lost an ounce of femininity, even if I was wearing a male costume.

But I could not say the same thing for him because the dress suited him very well. His sister had adjusted a well-padded bra to his chest that gave him a nice-looking front. The dress, in fact, had needed no alterations. But, in order to fill in the skirt adequately, he was wearing his mother's corset, well upholstered at the hips and the derriere. The dress fitted his corseted waist tightly which gave him a real girlish figure. He wore red calf cuban-heeled shoes that looked bright and shining below the bottom of his multicolored skirt. The dress had a large lace collar, long sleeves tightly fitting his arms and wrists. Under the billowing skirts, he wore a crinoline made of starched white cotton trimmed with a large band of lace which showed when he walked.

The beautician made him up as a very nice looking Spanish girl using lots of dark foundation. His dark eyes were shining while beauti- fied by the black mascara and eyeliner. His eyelids wore blue eye- shadow and his lips were heavily painted with dark red lipstick. When the beautiful dark wig was on and topped with a little black veil, we were in front of a real Spanish girl. I painted his finger nails with dark red polish and, while doing it, I told him how pretty a girl he made. He admitted he did not regret having agreed to be dolled-up because he could see himself that the result was really amazing.

We gathered in the living room where we talked and danced all evening. He seemed to love the part he had to play. He held castanettes in his hands and executed a few flamingo steps. The girls applauded him and said he was doing fine. I was glad he was enjoying his cos- tume and was really playing the part of a girl, because I had been afraid he might refuse to do it. I know that boys do not like to wear dresses, even for fun. They are always afraid that girls might laugh at them. But that only happens to those who make a caricature of a girl. That was not his case because he looked so much like a real girl that if someone had dropped in at the moment, he would never have realized he was not in front of a real girl.

I had to learn how to lead and he had to learn to follow. I invited the girls to dance with me, one after the other, to get used to my new role. He too was invited by the girls to dance with them, one after the other.

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