RANSVESTIA

"So," I said, looking up at Dan's leering face. As soon as I could get this cottonpicking article on the wives of the contenders in the Senate race completed, I'd be free and off on a European vacation of my

own.

"Jeff wants to see you," said Dan, a smirk on his fat face. "He's got another job for you."

Jeff Conlon looked up very doubtfully when I entered his office. For a while, I had taken that expression personally until I noticed that he 'was "doubtful" of everyone. "This story is right on for you," he stated carefully. He was looking at the photo of Bellamy and "Romy Pohl- man."

"What do you mean?" I was defensive, but Conlon had a big hold over me, since he'd hired me and supported me through all my troubles. I just couldn't treat him in the same way I did my immediate boss, Dan Smith.

"Your passport came through at last," he said. He had to recommend me, of course, and now he was letting me know that I wouldn't have been taking a vacation at all without his help.

"Yes," I said, my nerves tightening as I guessed what was coming.

"We'll pay for the trip," Conlon stated firmly, "along with any reasonable expenses. It's time for an expose on these rock stars, and on the whole change-of-sex thing. In Europe, they're having an epidemic of drag shows, all a part of the decadence of the Seventies. It's just a foretaste of what's going to happen here next. You know our point of view."

Sure I knew the paper's point ov view-sensationalism, but covered over in tones of mock puritanism and fake anger at the decay of western civilization. And so most of the staff was like the cynical Dan Smith rather than the straitlaced old Editor-in Chief. Generally, Jeff was thought of as being the only true Puritan on the staff. It could have been an act but he often seemed genuinely surprised by the garbage we dug up.

"How about the Senators' wives...?" I began, but Jeff cut me off.

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