FICTION

PHOTOGRAPHS

(Continued from Transvestia #97)

Dee Raymond

A smiling security man opened the door for us. He beamed at Romy, his eyes slipping down her figure over her slim, tanned legs to her white, open high heels. A pair of obese, Middle Eastern types also turned to look at her, exchanging whispered comments, as we came out onto the white steps and met the hot blast of the early afternoon

sun.

"There must be people I know in you

Brennan Lawrence was

nervous and unsure of exactly what I was writing, or so I thought.

"It's a series of articles," I grinned. "I hope I spelled your name right, Mr. Lawrence."

He looked quite sick to me beneath his tan.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Romy was cross. "It's no big deal. I've been in the papers lots of times."

Lawrence looked very unhappy. Romy had slipped her arm through his, and was trying to start him off along the boulevard, towards the main part of the dock.

"You look ill," I grinned at Lawrence. It wasn't nice of me, but then I didn't feel like being nice.

"It's hot," Lawrence also made an audible gulp. "W-would you like a drink, Mr. Evans?" he stammered.

"Al," I said.

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