RANSVESTIA

friend," as lots of FPs do. I much prefer to be dealt with as the person who is actually going to wear the clothes. This gives the saleswoman an opportunity to exercise her sophistication; for it is quite an achievement to dress a man so becomingly in skirts that he is able to pass as a woman. I have referred to the pleasure of being waited upon; and a pleasure it is, for if you can kill your inhibitions and give yourself the green light, you will have the incomparable thrill of having a charming GG advise you about the different garments, and about your bosom, waist, and hips, so that when you have assembled an outfit you will have feminine curves in place of masculine straight lines. She will talk to you as if you were a woman, which, after all, you really are, and this in its turn will make you feel like a woman, which is what you want.

One morning I looked up the number of a corset and lingerie shop I had been reconnoitering for years, and dialed. I was all excited and a little out of breath when a charming lady at the other end picked up the phone, identified the shop, and asked if she could help me. I replied that I hoped she could, that my friends and I occasionally went to parties where the men wore skirts, and that it was a rule at these parties that everybody be completely dressed "en femme" from the skin out. Could she help me?

Her reply took me by surprise. She said, "Are you really going to a party, or do you want things to wear for your 'second life'?" I took a deep awallow, picked up my cue, and replied that yes, indeed, I wanted some pretty underthings for my second life.

"Very well, then," she said, "come in anytime when convenient and browse. If I am engaged with a client when you come in, say you would like to choose some things for your wife. Make a note of your choices and come in again the following day. Then, if I am not engaged, show me what you have decided upon. It will not be possible for you to try on, for obvious reasons, but I will do my best to make sure you have a proper fit."

Needless to say, it didn't take me long to get down there. The proprietress is a tall young woman in her earliest thirties, with a pretty face and well-favored in other respects, and I am ten to fifteen years older than I would need to be to be her father. Even so, I didn't get the chance to feel embarrassed. When I entered, she was seated in her little office at the far end of the shop talking to a customer. She

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