RANSVESTIA

The object of Cort's well-based fury was at that particular mo- ment hopelessly entangled within the arms of his wife. Their emotional needs satisfied, they were at present exchanging gentle pet- ting in anticipation of their untangling with restful sleep to follow. Jean's fingers caressed the appreciably longer and thicker hair of Angie's neck. As Angie sighed and moved nearer, Jean lowered her head and gently kissed the nipple of Angie's swelling breast. Angie's body went rigid with shock.

"Don't," he whispered. "Oh, please, don't..

Jean giggled in the darkness. "Why not?" she murmured. "Let's face it, girl, you'll enjoy it more than me."

"Please, Jean," Angie tried to sit up. "Please don't call me 'girl'." He freed himself and sat up.

"What's the matter?" Jean put her arm around him and tried to pull her husband down beside her. As he resisted her, she lay back and pulled the sheet up about her. "I'm sorry, darling," she said softly. “I guess you don't find this whole business as humorous as I do."

Angie swung his long, slim legs onto the bedroom floor, slipping on his high heel mules. He reached into the bed, found his Baby Doll panties, and slipped them on. He then moved away from the bed to sit in front of the mirror. Putting on the dim bedside lamp, he picked up a brush and began to brush out the misplaced curls about his forehead.

Jean looked across at the slim, feminine figure in front of the mirror. No vestige of masculinity could be seen. He had even learned in the last five years to brush his hair in a very feminine manner. In a short time, the curls were in place and his new hair style, with short bangs either side of his forehead were in place. Angie then found the top to his pyjamas, slipped it on, and came to sit by the bed.

"Jean," he said, in the familiar husky tones she had spent sc much time teaching him. "Can we talk now?”

Jean smiled. "We can talk anytime, darling."

Angie's voice was urgent. "No, I mean about us and how all of this is going to end.”