ransvestia

soon as the money that was supposed to be wired to me from the States arrived in Monte Carlo.

It finally arrived at the bank and I was busy converting to francs, with a lot going into sterling, when I happened to glance up. Maybe, I felt her eyes upon me, I don't know, but Romy Pohlman was staring at me, unveiled hostility in her green eyes. She'd just completed a trans- action of her own, and she was putting money away into a white purse that matched the short, white dress she was wearing. The plunging, lace-edged neckline showed off both her tan and her figure.

"You've followed me down here!" Her auburn hair was loosely combed about her neck and with no makeup, save for perhaps eye- brow pencil, Romy was more femininely attractive than I'd ever seen her.

I shrugged. "I'm just leaving," I said. "I have a plane for London tonight from Nice."

A young man joined us. He was slim and dark. His hair was short, but there was a definite, effeminate air about him. The thin, shaped eyebrows didn't help in assuring anyone of his maleness. "Excuse me, Romy," he touched her lightly on the arm. He sounded fruity, and he jerked his hand in an exaggerated fashion. "We've all finished now. So, whenever you're ready..." He gave me a smile, but it vanished as I scowled fiercely at him.

"This is Al Evans," Romy's contralto was flat and expressionless, "an American newspaperman." She made a graceful gesture with her left hand. "Brennan Lawrence," she said to me curtly.

Lawrence gave me a very quick once over. "Uh," he coughed. "You're on a story, Mr. Evans?"

I laughed, and was pleased to see what I thought was apprehension on both of their faces. We were all edging towards the main entrance "Transvestites," I said, grinning. "And all the different kinds of perverts that there are."

Continued in TVia #98

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