RANSVESTIA

I had to laugh. "Do I dress in women's clothing?" I couldn't keep the laughter and mockery out of my voice. She nodded. her face still, and I guess she must have met plenty, those not so brave as to declare themselves like Romy, of all shapes and sizes.

"No," I laughed. "I never dress in women's clothes. I never think that I might and I never will.”

For some reason that didn't relax her too much. "You understand my cross-dressing a little?" she asked dubiously.

"I'm a newspaper man," I said. "There's been transsexuals in every place in the States, even in Ladies Tennis. I've covered stories like that."

"But I'm not a transsexual," she was adamant.

I nodded. "I was checking," I said, feeling a little abashed at what I'd done. "I just wanted to know where you stood."

"Now you know," she said abruptly.

"Now I know," I said. I smiled, and she returned it slightly. I think it was because she was so fragile and demure, like a little china doll, that's so perfect you have to touch it to see if it's real, that caused me to do what I did next. I reached over to Romy and pulled her up against me. Then I kissed her on her red, painted lips. Her hands. struggled but I had those pinned easily to her slim body and her head was trapped by the door frame. She didn't exactly return my hard kiss, but her body did stiffen and press against me though it seemed she was trying to resist me. When I released her, she hesitated before she pulled away and I got to kiss her cheek again and squeeze her hand before I said "good night" and went for the elevator.

The door slammed and the bolt clicked into place before I even got my finger onto the elevator's call button.

Ray Gerhard could dig like no other research assistant I've ever had. At noon the next day, I had Romy Pohlman's life history, in words and in pictures, spread out in front of me on my desk.

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