Denise turned and smiled. She was incredibly beautiful when she smiled, thought Rich- ard Simons. Even in front of him, making up fake breasts for her narrow chest, 'she' was still extremely desirable. And with her hair like that!

"Then the best laid plans of Simons and Gerlitz will be gone astray," said Denise. At Simons sudden movement, she asked,, "What's the matter?"

""

"Well," said Simons slowly. Denise held the garter belt to, herself and began to fasten hooks. "I might as well tell you now. She took one pale stock- ing, put her foot in and then slid it slowly up her leg, adjusting the pale seam as she went. "There'll be a special guest at Joe's party tonight.'

"}

"Whom?" she asked, slip- ping the nylon into the garter fasterners with practised ease. "General Mark Gerlitz, said Simons carefully. Her black- lined eyes whipped up to stare wildly at him. "Your father."

She sat down quickly on the bed, her face in anguish. Her long fingernails, a bright scarlet, contrasted with her white creamy skin as she clutched her shoulders, arms crossed, covering her lace-edged bra. "What's he doing here?" she whispered. There was panic in her voice. "I can't go to the General's party with him there."

"He won't recognize you,”

said Simons shortly. "As to what he's doing here, you can probably guess. He's here to pres- sure me into revealing the where- abouts of his son, Kenneth Jack- son Gerlitz. He won't give up, you know."

She was shaking hysterically scrambling to pick up her other stocking and to slide it onto her leg. "He'll know me!" she cried. "He'll know I'm his son. I can't let him see me like this! He can tell my voice."

"I doubt it," said Simons stiffly. "You're not the same per- son you were when you were back stateside."

The girl looked at him, des- peration on her painted features. "I I know I'm different," she said, faltering in her speech. She picked up the black, silk

-

slip with just the tiniest of straps. With it covering her bra and her false bust, she was as womanly as she ever was. "Help me with my dress," she said, quivering. "I'd better be perfect. It isn't every day a father gets to meet his new daughter."

* * *

With dangling pearl earrings at her ears, high-heeled silver shoes and a silver purse, Denise clearly outshone all the other girls at Joe Martin's party, which was going full swing and riotous- ly when Denise and Richard made a grand entrance. Joe Mar- tin clearly thought that Denise was something special for he took her right out on the dancing floor of the officers' club where the party was being held. Joe Martin monopolized her for quite a while as Richard Simons made time with Brigadier Greeves and his wife, a conversa- tion going with at least six other, equally noisy, American officers.

"Joe, I'd like to sit down for a moment," Denise said when there was a break in the music provided by a loud, brassy com-

bo.

"Sure, doll," Martin was im- mediately considerate. "Hey, come and meet one of the great- est commanders in the American Army." He took her by the arm and ushered her to the only quiet corner in the place. A familiar, uniformed figure rose from a sofa. "General Mark Gerlitz. Mark, this is Denise. Works for Richard Simons.'

There was appreciation in Mark Gerlitz' eyes for the blonde girl in the tight dress and piled up hair who sat down as Joe Martin directed her, next to the famous general on the sofa. "Denise," he said. "That's a French name."

"Mais oui, mon general. Je suis francaise." Denise fluttered her eyelids in nervousness. She pressed her legs together, feeling her stockings rub together.

But Mark Gerlitz could speak French too. He tried to put the panic stricken Denise at her ease, and flattered her by telling her how beautiful she was, and how he loved girls to wear

17

their hair up like they did in the eighteenth century. Denise was unable to look 'her' father in the eye. Whereas Ken Gerlitz had always been defiant with his father, out-staring even the gen- eral himself on occasions, Denise was quite demure, sitting with her knees and ankles together, her gown raised enough to show off her pretty, silver high heels.

"You work for Colonel Simons," said the General at last. "Just a file clerk," Denise murmured.

'Ah," said the General, a gleam in his eye. "You must have heard of Kenneth Gerlitz then, my son." He watched her with the closest scrutiny that Denise ever remembered.

Denise was shaking inside her now tight-fitting gown. "Ah, non, monsieur," she said, shaking her head, feeling the earrings bounce off her neck. "I have not heard of him".

Mark Gerlitz looked very hard at the girl in front of him. "You know," he said. "I think I've met you before but I can't think where. We did meet some- where else, didn't we?"

Even as Denise shook her head again, Richard Simons came over to rescue her. "General," he nodded to Mark Gerlitz. “I'd like to relieve you of my date for this dance."

The General nodded back coolly, but he watched closely as Denise and Richard moved into a slow waltz. Mark Gerlitz knew that Simons had a French girl "living in" with him, and watch- ing them together, in a whispered conversation, he could envy Sim- ons. Despite that, he intended to find out more about his son, no matter what Security and Intel- ligence said.

General Joe Martin cut in on the enjoyable waltz Denise was dancing. "Come on, Rick," he hollered raucously. "You can get close to Denise any time. But today's my birthday!" He grabbed Denise around her waist.

"Joe, please!" cried Denise, trying to push him away a little. But the General only laughed. Denise felt quite mauled when she managed to get away from the General as he went to the bar for drinks.