RANSVESTIA

"Tell him I'm busy."

"I would talk to him, if I were you. He sounds very mad," Kathy ad- vised.

Harry reconsidered his decision. Jim Barrett was Chief of Accounting, a real hardnose, and carried a lot of weight with the top brass in the A- gency. Better soothe him. He picked up the phone. "What's the trouble, Barrett?"

"Your agent Brewer is, that's what! What the devil does he think he's doing, anyway? Trying to break me? When I opened that crazy special account for his drag outfits, I budgeted a few hundred dollars at the most. But the bills keep pouring in- the total is over five grand now, and we get more every day-things like $100 dresses, $300 wigs, shoes galore, scads of lingerie and cosmetics, and over $1500 in beauty parlor 'services ren- dered'."

"Fifteen hundred bucks at the beauty parlor!?" Harry repeated, look- ing pointedly at Cynthia.

"Electrolysis is expensive," she commented, sweetly, "but the results are worth it," stroking her smooth chin.

Harry scowled darkly. "Look, Barrett, I'm sure this can all be ex- plained. I have agent Brewer here with me now-just beginning his de- briefing, in fact. I'll call you back later."

"You'd better have some good answers, Cooper! Since you authorized this account, the expenses are coming out of your departmental alloca- tion. If you don't show substantial, results to justify the outlay, your neck is on the block!" Barrett warned and hung up.

"Whew!" Harry whistled, "That was Barrett in Accounting, Brewer, in case you didn't guess, and he's hopping mad. For good reason, too! Do you realize that you've run up five grand in expenses for your feminine glad rags?"

"Only five thousand?” Cynthia didn't seem perturbed, "I guess all the bills aren't in yet."

Harry jumped up out of his chair. His head almost hit the ceiling.

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