Transvestia

London was discovered in the ruins of the room into which he had moved just a few hours before the storm broke."

I gazed in horror at the lines of print. The paper said I was dead. What on earth was I to do? My immediate reaction was to run for the security of my flat but I quickly decided against that. If the papers had the story presumably the police had as well and there might even be a policeman waiting there. The thought of explaining away my feminine appearance to the police made me shudder. And anyway even if I could screw up my courage to do so would I just be putting my head in a noose? Was it illegal for a man to be in public dressed as a woman? I didn't know. And talking of nooses the paper said there was a body in my hotel room. Could it be the homosexual's body? Had he perhaps returned to my room after I'd left and some- how been caught by the fire? I couldn't-I just couldn't-explain to the police not only what I myself had been doing but what that loathsome man had demanded of me as well. I felt so sick that I thought I would faint.

Vaguely I was aware that my faithful porter had reappeared. With an effort I pulled myself together as he announced triumphantly:

"It never rains but it pours! There's a whole flock of taxis out there now, Miss!"

"Oh thank you. But now I must phone-can you take me to the nearest box, please?"

I'd had a brainwave. Alan would know what to do-Alan who was really a female (and who, when I first met her, was still calling herself Ann) but who now was tall, short haired, man-dressed and thoroughly masculine. Alan who always seemed so protective towards me when we met and who inspired in me such wondrous but impossible dreams -he would come to my rescue.

My porter took my case and led me to the phones and his chatter as we walked allowed me to regain my poise. I made up my mind how I was going to play this. I could hear the phone ringing for some time before a sleepy voice answered.

"Hello?"

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