RANSVESTIA

at his reflection in the mirrow. It was quite clear that Dave had dis- appeared from the room. The beautiful blonde model, clad only in her underclothes, smiled at the young female designer. "Show me which dress you want me to wear first," she said prettily.

* * *

Erica Mallett watched the models displaying Barbara Cooper's newest designs with feelings of trembling pleasure. Her mother had been so right to bring her to the fashion show. The models were all so extraordinarily professional, not like the girls she had been trying to organize at school. All were beautiful, but some were beyond that, and were positively scintillating in the show they put on as they waltzed about in the new clothes, showing them off to advantage.

As the designer was passing by, Mrs. Mallet had opened up a conversation with her. As the last model whirled about, pouting and the laughing as she threw up the hem of a fantastic print evening gown, Erica could hear Mrs. Mallett saying, "Erica has always de- signed her own clothes. She is currently putting on her own show at Renton School."

Erica squirmed. Please, mother, she thought. These are profes- sionals.

"Indeed," Barbara Cooper's voice was cool and impersonal.

Mrs. Mallett was not to be deterred. "Of course, it is the models who make such a difference in a show like this, don't you agree, Mrs., er, Miss..."

"Ms.," said the designer, trying to be as civil as possible.

"Ah, a liberated woman," Mrs. Mallett's voice was a squeal. Oh, no, thought Erica, we'll be here for the day. Barbara Cooper seemed to pick up the signal, too, for she suddenly straightened up and sig- nalled to the model who was contorting herself in a lively twist to the delight of the Misses Thompson, who, although 60 if they were a day, were obviously in the throes of some fantasy of girlhood inspired by the blonde dancer.

"Peggy," said Ms. Cooper, when the blonde model came pirouet- ting up to them. She spoke to both Erica and her mother. "Peggy

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