Irena honey."

Under his makeup, Esteban could feel yet another flush rising over his face, but he tried to overcome it. He smiled in return at Consuela, little knowing how his forced smile was similar to Irena's famous pout.

"Sh-Shall we go?” he asked nervously, swinging his hips and shivering as the skirt swished out, about his stockinged legs. It was hard to take the small steps towards the door, to walk in the manner Isabel had been teaching him. His padded hips, however, seemed to sway almost of their own accord. The strange feeling of the panties between his legs, though, only made 'her' blush and stagger even more as her high heels clicked on the hardwood floor.

Salluca frowned at Consuela as Esteban-Irena began to leave. "He likes it, doesn't he?" he murmured in a low voice, full of astonishment. Esteban did not see Consuela's frown in return or the thoughtful look on Isabel Ortega's face. He only felt his flush deepening and de- veloping all over his body, in an outpouring of embarrassment and shame. He thought about what he was doing, a silly, young boy, dressed up in his sister's clothes, going to a dinner party with a powerful Army General.

He had to will himself to step daintily through the outer, leather-backed door, past Salluca's guards, who stared at 'her,' faces expressionless, to where Ramon Aguilar awaited 'her.' The pleasure in the Gen- eral's eyes as he rose and took Esteban's hand, caressing the long, manicured and lacquered fingernails, seemed real, but over and over, Esteban had to keep repeating, "I am Irena. I am a beautiful woman. I am Irena. I am a beautiful woman," to himself even as the earrings swung wildly against his neck, pinching his earlobes severely.

Dinner was served in the private dining room just off

the antechamber. Aguilar had been startled by Isabel Ortega's presence with Irena. The Ortegas were known as Center Democrats. Consuela he knew well, of course, both for her work as Assistant Party Sec- retary and for her friendship with Irena, reportedly very close. But he was annoyed when both women joined Irena, Salluca and he at the dinner. The last thing Ramon Aguilar wanted was a hen party.

Despite the presence of the two extra women, however, or perhaps because of them, the meal was very enjoyable. Irena naturally said very little, though she looked fantastic, the slight smiles on her glossy lips hinting at feminine mysteries that Aguilar would have loved to try to solve. Consuela was positively outrageous in her table talk. She flirted with "dear Ramon” until he wasn't sure what was serious and what was not in her manner; she teased 'the Eagle' unmerci- fully about his bird-like appetite; but, most of all, she was beauti- fully bitchy to the scowling

Democrat.

Irena was another who ate very little. She seemed hardly aged at all to Aguilar from the first time he'd seen her behind the barricades of the University, tossing Molotov cocktails at the troop he was supposedly leading against the students. It had taken all his powers of persuasion that day to convince the hot-tem- pered, raven-haired girl that the Army was coming to her aid, and that they had much better aim than she had.

Irena sipped just tiny drops of the blood-red Sangre, and generally left the conversation to her aides. When he looked at her, she often seemed to be quivering to the Army Chief of Staff. Yet, there was no draft that he could feel in the secluded dining room.

Consuela had turned the attention of the table talk back to Aguilar. "I hear that the Army is to receive a 40

new reinforcement, General," she said with a bright smile. Aguilar made a face. "Dra- matic?" he questioned. “I hardly think so."

"Oh," joined in a haughty Isabel, her voice harsh. "With a dedicated force of revolution- aries like the Interior Police at your disposal, you should have no trouble now, should you, in sweeping Boca and his friends out of El Chaco.”

"But surely you wouldn't like that to happen," said Ag- uilar with a feigned frown, surprise in his voice. "You would prefer the old regime to return, wouldn't. . . .

""

"How can you say that,' snapped Isabel, sounding waspish even to herself. "No true Demo- crat wishes for the return of the old days." She softened and smiled as she saw the General's eyes glint and re- alized that he had been baiting her. "What we want is a true and just revolution, not the sham the present Party of the Revolution calls a People's Dictatorship."

"The People's State," Con- suela corrected her.

"We want a genuine revo- lution," persisted Isabel.

"Not too much to ask," the croaky voice of Esteban- Irena cut in, her dress rustl- ing silkily as she crossed one nyloned leg over the other, gently smoothing the skirts

with her slim hands.

Both Isabel and the Army General were startled by her remark. The soldier recovered first, appreciating the irony of her words. "I agree," he said simply, raising his wine glass in a brief toast to the now blushing, beautifully madeup President. "But, to return to your first comment, Senorita, he spoke deliberately so that all would get the message. "The addition of the Interior Police will hardly affect the fighting capability of the Revolutionary Forces."

"

"The Police cannot fight?"