RANSVESTIA

He was putting away more of the niftiest negligees, peignoirs and nighties I'd ever seen-all frilly, silky and covered with ribbons- just about as feminine as it was possible to be. "Why'd you call your- self Valerie when you phoned before?" I asked, sitting on the end of "his" bed. He was bustling about, taking his lingerie from a case and storing it away.

"Valerie Macmillan is my modelling name," he said. "I use it most of the time now. I only use Terry when I have to."

"What d'you want me to call you?" I asked.

He thought for a moment, kicking off his heels and beginning to put them away with his other shoes, nearly all high heels. "I much prefer Valerie," he said. "Terry has too many bad times in it for me."

I myself found it pretty hard to call him "Valerie" at first, although it came quite naturally after a few days. "Valerie," you see, is my sister's name and so with it, I was used to saying "she and "her." I don't know why but from the moment I found out that Terry Evans was really a man, I had, despite his gorgeous appearance, thought of him as as a "him," using "he" in my own thoughts. But "Valerie" brought on a lot of changes with me. Having "him" around, too, curled up in such a feminine manner in a negligee on the sofa watching TV, using the name "Valerie," made me start to think "she" and "her" in my thoughts. Of course, I had to use the feminine anyway when I spoke to Lou Francek and Pat Bailey, nee Lumsden, when I spoke to them about "Valerie Macmillan," but I had that pretty well rehearsed in my mind anyway and I doubt that they noticed any of the embarrassment I felt when I told them about "her" and what "she” was like.

Valerie kept herself pretty much to herself for the first few days much as she said she would. She went out earlier than I did on her modelling jobs and usually got back, looking very worn out long after I'd eaten. She was quite used to looking after herself and, in fact, was much neater and tidier than I am in using everything in the kitchen and particularly in the bathroom. I always leave stuff scattered all over the place-pins, clothes, tissues—but Valerie never did. As the saying goes, she was a real doll. Even on Saturday, she kept pretty much to herself, sleeping late and discreetly staying out of the way when Ed called to take me out to a movie. She was already in bed when we returned and, as far as I know, asleep. I checked,

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