RANSVESTIA

"Look at them!" raged Mirandez. "Cop-outs! Afraid of an in- tellectual argument."

"What's so intellectual about this argument?" The blonde psy- chiatrist had regained her sense of humour. Even the white medical coat she wore could not diminish her attractiveness. She brightened the whole staff room with her smile. "Look, Hec. There's nothing wrong in being fooled by a man. It's no big deal. Heavens," she stood gracefully, "I've been fooled often enough into going out with people I thought were real men." She placed her coffee cup on the rack, and turned to go.

"I'll tell you, young woman," Mirandez went on, "that there is no way that any male could fool me. Oh, perhaps in a photograph, or at first glance, but no male could maintain femininity of voice, manner or gesture for long. He'd have to be a woman to be able to respond properly to the attention of other men. I've treated hundreds of them," he wagged his finger at the young blonde, who picked up her purse and was obviously about to leave, "and there isn't one who could fool me."

"Not now nor ever," said Ray Martin lightly as he took Helen's arm to accompany her along the hallway.

"Never!" shouted Mirandez.

"Never?" there was doubt in Helen's voice.

"I've never been fooled and I never will be!" the older doctor was almost out of control. The subject was clearly a real hang-up for him and needed closer scrutiny, thought Helen. "To contradict me," the older man's jaw jutted out, "is to impugn my professional com- petence."

"Wow." Martin tried to react lightly. "We'd better leave before the glove in the face, Helen." He pulled at her arm, but she resisted.

"Wait, Ray," she said. She tapped her cheek with one of her long silver-lacquered fingernails. "Tell me, Dr. Mirandez, could you put this skill of yours to a small test for me?" At the look on the others' faces, she went on hurriedly. "Oh, don't get me wrong. I don't think that the ability to pick out transvestites is a matter of professional com-

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