RANSVESTIA

"Please," she said, "let's not go overboard.”

We drank our drinks in embarrassed silence. She twirled the ice in her glass and held it out for a refill. I made another round.

"You really need a slip under that dress," she laughed. "You can see right through it."

"You should have thought of that when you hid my clothes."

"I did."

"I mean you should have thought about the consequences."

"Do me a favor, and put on a slip."

"So give me back my clothes, and I won't offend you."

She left the room and returned shortly with two water-filled balloons.

"Look," she said, joggling the balloons under my nose, "you can be as coy as you want, but don't expect me to share my life with these. You can get rid of these, or you can get the hell out."

"You are overestimating things," I protested. "You wear my clothes all the time, but you make a big deal out of it if I so much as touch your things."

"Oh, no, we're not going to go through that argument again. I'm simply telling you that I am no longer going to be a party to the decep- tion that has underlain our marriage."

"No more deception than you've asked for," I retorted.

"Look, I dislike your wearing my clothes, but I detest your sneak- ing behind my back to do it. The deception has to go."

"Only the deception?"

"What do you think?"

"We scarcely need to go through all this. You could have said what was bothering you. Give me back my clothes, and I'll promise to leave yours alone."

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