RANSVESTIA

slowly. "Well," he said at last, givng me a tight little smile, very controlled, "I guess I should get out of here, you've probably get lots of other girls to see."

I nodded, "Lots," I lied. 'Other' girls, I thought indignantly.

He nodded slowly. Then, he flicked his curls over the upturned collar of his coat. In a most feminine manner, he put on his thin, white gloves. "See you," he smiled and gave a little wave. Then in a waft of perfume, he turned, stepped brightly out of the room, crossed to the entrance and was gone.

I watched 'her' walk across the wooded parking lot below, several men turning their heads to watch 'her' go by. She got into a bright, new, American sports car and fairly whizzed out of the parking lot. I kind of regretted that she'd gone. She was, as I said captivating.

I stayed on at the apartment after that, but despite running my ad for two more weeks and getting five or six crank calls, I could see that I'd have to move out of my comfortable niche. Things got so depressing for a day or two that I even thought of marrying Ed Birley, my so-called boyfriend. Ed had asked me before, but, if I married him, I'd just be a full-time nurse to his mother, who's a permanent wheel- chair case. It's not that I'm so bad-looking or anything. I'm pretty regular, I guess, and when I'm all dressed, I can be as good as brown eyes, mousy hair and a twenty buck hairdo will ever be.

Things were even more desperate for me after a couple of weeks more. No matter what other places I looked at, the rents for one person were staggering too. I would hardly be better off even if I moved. And work was hectic, too. We were so busy that I didn't even realize that Terry Evans was there until the doctor said, "Will you put Miss Evans in Three, Dot?" There was a stress on the word 'Miss' and kind of lilt to Dr. Lewis' voice that alerted me.

Miss Evans," I called and Terry came from the far corner of the L- shaped room, the corner you can't see from the desk. I wouldn't have recognized him anyway. He was wearing an auburn wig, at least I guessed it was a wig, styled in a long, bushy Afro. Again, he wore boots and tinted stockings and his short, maroon mini-skirt was a match for his maroon sweater. He wasn't wearing a bra. Looking the way he does in a sweater, I thought gloomily, he ought to. It's only fair that he give us real girls a slim, fighitng chance.