RANSVESTIA

"Jean," said Annette shakily.

Jean's hands were trembling. "Oh, Annette, thank heaven I caught up with you. I must have been off my head to say such a terrible thing to you." She clasped Annette's hand. "Come on and leave that," she said. "We must go somewhere private so that we can talk properly right now."

Later that night, his arm still under his lovely wife's neck, Annette blew her brown curls softly. Jean's head was pushing his bra into a most awkward position, but he was content, even though she only mov- ed in closer. His night-dress was creased and wedged uncomfortably between his legs, but he was able to smile at it. He couldn't blame Tina for the revenge she was likely beginning that night in Devon. He was only thankful that he, Annette, had had the guts not to take that same unrewarding road.

DL

"Ah!... George, dear . . . Why not let me lead for awhile . .

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