RANSVESTIA

She was an excellent dancer. I've done a few places, too, in my time, and she'd rank right up there as a dancer, in any of them. I couldn't get over how gracefully feminine she was, both in her figure and in her movements. She was rounded and narrowed in the right places and she gave me lots of encouragement. I even felt that I was having as good a time as she was.

"Thank you so much," she said, slipping her arm through mine quite natrually. We'd done a set of three and I could feel the shirt sticking to me beneath the leather waistcoat I'd worn. I hate to have my clothes sticking to me. My hair, too, felt very wet and I was sure it was stuck to my forehead. Romy had hardly a hair out of place, and if there was a little perspiration on her face, you'd have to look hard to find it.

Our drinks had disappeared from the bar, as had Ray Gerhard and Arthur Bellamy. So, I bought new ones and ushered her over to a corner booth suddenly vacated.

She gave me a puzzled look and then beckoned me to lean over so that she could speak in my ear. "I'm Romy Pohlman," she said. “I thought you knew that. I hope you know, too, that I'm a man, just like you."

"

I had to smile at that, particularly at the earnest expression on her face. It was pretty brave of her, too, to be so honest. I doubted that her blonde friends were. I gave her a slow look up and down. A look that took in the small mounds of her bust, the long, slim fingers, with their long, pointed, scarlet nails and her feminine figure. "You're not a man like me!" I shouted into the butterfly-tipped ear.

She laughed, but there was still a wariness about her. She hadn't quite worked out what I wanted, but I think she had a suspicion.

With the amount of sound in the place, it was easier to dance with her than to talk to her, but I didn't have her to myself for long. She was obviously well known in the place and there was a steady stream of partners for her to dance with-including most of those I'd tagged as "fairies."

When she was worn out, and I could see the lines of fatigue at her eyes, I offered her a ride home. "My friends..." she began, indicating

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