RANSVESTIA

I knew that I would bear a woman-label for the rest of my high school life if my classmates ever found out about my terrible experience.

I had chosen a part of town relatively unfamiliar to me for my lingerie foray, so when the lady whose clothesline I had visited was shown into the office accompanied by her daughter, my heart nearly stopped. By awful coincidence I had chosen the home of Barbara Morrissey, a popular Washburn senior and class officer whom I had never actually met but surely recognized. She seemed to be very em- barrassed and awfully subdued. I supposed that was because her lingerie had become "Exhibit A" in this meeting with all those men. Of course, although she didn't acknowledge it, she had recognized me, too. At last, after everyone had looked at me long enough, the officers let me change back into my own clothes. Then upon my return, the un- kind men made me place the little pile of silk underthings directly into Barbara's hands. It was awful. Neither of us knew where to direct our eyes. It was too personal for words, and the officers enjoyed the pathetic little tableau hugely. When Mrs. Morrissey expressed bewilderment as to my motive, the officers told her things about people like me that even I did not know. They said that we were female boys. They told her that, as of now, I was only a beginner, but that it was in- evitable that in a couple of years I would be a real swish. "You'd probably love to be a cute little girly-girl right now, wouldn't you, Tom- my? Maybe you are one already, for all I know. Yeah, I bet you're a soft-breasted, hanky-dropping, little yoo-hoo already, aren't you, Tom- my, boy?" The smirking policeman kind of piled it on me. I just mumbl- ed no.

Mrs. Morrissey seemed offended by the officer's line, but the men just laughed, and that was when Mrs. Morrissey declined to file charges. The policemen didn't seem to care one way or the other. Ap-" parently pantie thefts aren't all that uncommon, because I was questioned, half-heartedly, about several other incidents, but I knew nothing of them.

I knew I was sunk anyhow. Although I hadn't seen any reporters, I knew they monitored police reports. I prayed for war to break out and crowd my insignificant little story right out of the news. But no such luck. Anyway there was still Barbara. I hoped she might be too em- barrassed to broadcast the story. However, these speculations proved to be academic, because the following morning, news of my humilation lay on the doorstep of every house in the city. Apparently nothing had happened anywhere in the world, that night, more important than my

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