tivity

after the services?" "There's plenty of time for that," John said, brushing the matter aside by pulling the white blouse and the skirt from the suit case. "Here, we've got to get in- side," and handing me the two articles he said, "we still have to polish our fingernails."

"I didn't realize isn't nail polish awfully hard to remove?" I asked.

"Come on, now, Richard, it's a little too late to continue being so skeptical," John answer- ed, "let me help you into the blouse."

He was, of course, correct. It was entirely too late to worry about something so trivial as po- lish. I had only questioned its use in knowing how Beth often com- plained about the problems con- nected with it. But of course, it would be the final and total committment to the strange cov- enant we were fast signing into effect.

As John helped me into the blouse; as I fastened the pearl buttons and quickly got into the billowly skirt; the total effect of the female clothes; of the entire masquerade; the sheer personifi- cation of a completely new per- sonality was becoming a crushing reality.

I would be Regina when John and I walked from the tiny dressing cubicle and down the hall way into the assembly room where Mary and Beth now wait- ed for us. I looked at my reflec- tion in the mirror. John was bus- ily engaged now with a very pret- ty blue knit dress; one I had not noticed Mary wearing. Was it possible that John had been dressing for a very long time? Every time my thoughts became directed this way I realized there was no time now to go into it; but just the posibility of this made my own apprehensions less intense.

John looked very nice I considered. Or, rather, it was now, Joan. Somehow, the effect of the cosmetics, the very beau- tiful wig, the blue dress and the whole costume, costume, took several years from his appearance. It was dramatic.

"You look a lot youger as -- as Joan," I volunteered when he

finally had the dress fastened.

"So do you," John answer- ed, smiling, "have you tried on those shoes yet?"

I had noticed the low-heel- ed shoes in the suitcase that was now almost empty but I hadn't tried them on. Quickly I took one of them and sat down with it. My foot, thanks to the smoothness of the nylons, went into the front of the shoe easy enough, but my efforts to get the shoe all the way on were fruitless the shoe was too small. "What size shoes do you wear?" John asked asked quickly.

"Why eleven, eleven B,'

I said, and immediately John left the cubicle after quickly slipping into his own pumps. As in the case of the wig, I wondered if the church kept an emergency stock of feminine apparel for just such occasions. But outside I heard John asking someone about a pair of shoes.

I considered that there must be a vast camaraderie among Femina people, and probably even more so among the men. Perhaps some of it was in the very real fact that these men were transcending their usual masculine ways and habits; cer- tainly John, always a kind and very thoughtful person, was even more considerate and patient to- night.

And he was beaming with pleasure when he came back in carrying a beautiful pair of shoes. "Fellow up in the next cubicle had this extra pair, try them on, we're really running late now,' he said, handing me the shoes.

They fit wonderfully; feel- ing much more comfortable than I would have imagined from the narrowness of the design. I stood up to survey the total effect in the mirror but the shoes raised me to the point where only the torso portion of my body was re- flected in the glistening surface. Quickly, John helped me to get seated again and had the finger- nail polish out.

"Just hold your hand per- fectly still," he cautioned, this won't take a minute."

―

"I thought well, with gloves...

"There'll be a tea later," he said, "in the dining hall. We may 38

want to attend and you would have to remove your gloves any- way. Besides, this sort of seals in the whole feeling of femininity, if you know what I mean.' "A tea?" I asked, some- what bewilderedly.

"Hold your your hand still," John said, "oh, they serve re- freshments, it's just one of the many social functions the church has." He was finished with the one hand then; the polish was wet, and felt strange on my fingernails. John said, "Now don't touch anything and this one coating will be enough." I considered what John had said, about the polish sealing up the aura of femininity. When the other hand was finished I stood by almost helpless; with a tremendous feeling of fragility; of shattering if I touched any- thing or moved too much. It was as if this period while the polish dried served as a suspen- sion of identity; afterwhich I would be Regina; irrevocably feminine for the duration of the evening's activities.

John was very skillful with his own nails. As he finished with the first hand he said, "You may want to put your billfold and any of your other valuables in this purse Mary put in the suit- case. They would be safe enough but I know how careful you become living in St. Louis."

I had completely forgotten about my billfold; the credit cards in it, and everything. I started to reach for my trousers and John again warned to be sure the fingernails were dry. They were, and I quickly transferred the things I was concerned about to the pocket-book.

John handed me a pair of gloves and took his own from his suitcase. "Your nails look very nice, don't bother with the gloves just yet. Come on, we're ready."

We were indeed ready at last; but before we opened the curtaine of the cubicle, we each. took one quick glance in the mir- ror. And then we were outside in the hall-way before I realized how instictively feminine our gesture of one last look in the mirror had been.

There were others in the