TRUE STORY

HANDCUFFS HURT!

Helen, OH 14-S

This is a true and unfortunate story written to explain some of the dangers of our hobby. As a preliminary explanation, the only activity of the victim involved was a late night walk and quiet win- dow shopping, dressed as he wished to be dressed. There were no ap- proaches, no solicitation, no misconduct. His usual guiding rule to speak softly only when spoken to doesn't apply since he did not meet anyone at this location.

It was a warm evening, March 9th, Shrove Tuesday

the last day of the traditional Mardi Gras. What better time for an innocent mas- querade?

I left my apartment about 9:30 p.m. and drove to my favorite shop- ping mall. My costume was a new black pantsuit, a Christmas gift to myself, pink blouse, dark brown wig, and simple plain pumps with two-inch set-back heels. My make-up artist and dear wife had checked make-up and hair-do and started to prepare for bedtime. This wasn't really my favorite combination since I prefer slacks with three-inch heels, a combination worn rarely by GG's, yet often enough that no obvious stares are made except by this writer.

I did change to three-inch heels just before leaving the car and strolled to the mall entrance to begin my window shopping tour. Re- flections from some darkened windows assured me that the six-foot lady looked presentable. This was one of more than a dozen visits to this place, and, as usual, I lingered at the Tall Shop display.

To digress a bit, 1972 had brought an almost eight-month period of unemployment. During the long, enforced idleness, many pleasant

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