RANSVESTIA

Samuel Aaronson, after years of living alone since his wife's death, was not used to having a woman, or even a pseudo-woman, about his house. It hadn't taken him long to persuade Angie that he needed 'her' close by to be available for the results of the tests he was having made. But it was rather disturbing to have her moving gracefully in and out of his familiar rooms. Her blonde hair and trim figure erased any vestige of maleness that might have lingered in Aaronson's mind after the examination. Despite her statements that she was going to dress like a man, Angie no longer wore the mannish outfit in which she had arrived. She avoided pantsuits, and one evening, wore a 'movie' outfit for Aaronson. The silver lame dress was very tight, just wisps of straps over her bare shoulders. There was an open panel at her tiny waist to show off the jewel in her navel. The skirt clung to her legs save for the open slits that showed off her stockings and dainty high heels. She had painted her nails and wore the kind of makeup that turned her into the glamorous star that she was. Aaronson had found her too beautiful. What could you say to such a gorgeous enigmatic figure?

Today, she wore a soft, pink woolen-knit dress with a middle-length skirt. She was also wearing stockings. Aaronson had seen the garter belt on her bed when he had gone there for an errand he'd forgotten. She also wore black high heels. She wore lipstick, too, mascara, eyebrow pencil and eyeshadow but not heavily. She was so much a woman, and of course, with or without a bra, 'she' was disturbing in that part of her anatomy, the sudden bounce of her breasts bringing on all kinds of disturbing thoughts to the doctor.

He was just wondering how he could approach her upon the results of some of this tests when he heard the sound of a car in the drive- way. She was sitting in the library armchair, her feet curled up beneath her, in an unconscious feminine mannerism. She put down the Jacqueline Susann novel and glaned at him anxiously.

"You're expecting someone, Sam?" she asked. Her voice devastated him. The films she had made had not exaggerated her femininity and living with her only accentuated that low, sexy voice, and the self-deprecating smile. Well, male or female, Sam Aaronson wasn't sure that he'd be able not to make a 'pass' at 'her' very soon.

"No," he said shortly, waiting. The bell clanged heavily. It could be heard in any part of the old house. "You stay in here. I'll see whoever it is into the living room."

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