IRANSVESTIA

"Oh, my God."

"He didn't exactly say it was you. He just said that a man dressed like a woman had disappeared on our floor. Who saw you?"

"Just a gang of kids."

"Did you know them?"

"No."

"You could lose your job."

"I know."

I can't understand why you would try anything so foolhardy."

I told her the whole story or most of it.

"How would you like to make another public appearance?" she asked.

"Never," I assured her.

"Even if you could do it right here, at a party?"

"Not even here," I repeated.

"Look," she said, opening up the large box she had with her. "It's a Tyrolean peasant's costume."

She extracted a very voluminous skirt with an embroidered border, an embroidered blouse with a low puckered neck and puff sleeves, and a black, laced bodice. From a second box, she produced a petticoat even more voluminous than the skirt. And then, with obvious delight, she produced the very girdle and bra that I had been coveting.

"Where did you get that?"

"The same place you would have, if you had had the courage."

"Oh, come on now."

"Go try them on."

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