RANSVESTIA

"Right, right," Betty chimed.

"You really don't look like you have to keep all that close a watch on your diet," I said.

"Well, neither do you," she said, giving me the once-over. "I'd do anything to have a figure like yours."

I smiled and told her I'd almost be willing to chuck my dynamite figure for a small mountain of mashed potatoes. The idea of indulging in such a sinful activity as eating mashed potatoes brought Betty Clapper to a level equivalent to Nirvana. I had her now and could milk her for every ounce of information I required. As far as Betty was con- cerned, my interrogation would be no more painful than chatting with a girlfriend.

ed.

"I work over at Senke and Sempke," I said.

"I'm with Kohlmar, Kohlmar, Saxerby and Smithe," Betty return-

"I'll trade you my figure for your job."

"I do have it pretty cushy," she said. "I'm a private secretary to an account executive."

"How nice. What's your boss like?" I asked.

"Oh, he's a sweetheart. Not to say he doesn't have his little idiosyncrasies. These creative types can be a little hard to handle."

Creative? Ha!

"But overall, Moxtone is a joy."

"Moxtone?"

"Yes, Schyler Moxtone, my boss," Betty answered.

"What's so idiosyncratic about your Mr. Moxtone?"

"Well, he sort of feels threatened."

38