FIRST

VI

LADY

By Dee Raymond

.AND LOVERS, OLD AND NEW

The nightdress lay un- touched upon the bed where Consuela had left it. "I won't wear it," said the young man fearfully. Devoid of wig and makeup, Esteban looked only remotely like his sister. He sat, his body tense, in an old arm- chair, wrapped in a soft, white, bathrobe. It came only half- way down his thighs, showing off his thin, bare, tanned and shaven legs.

Without eyebrows and with his darkwet hair pushed behind his ears, he looked like a boy- ish young girl of seventeen or eighteen.

"What is it?" Consuela's voice had a hard edge to it and both the flustered Isabel and Esteban turned to face her.

"He refuses to put on the nightwear you left out for him," Isabel said crossly.

"You make a mistake," said Consuela, and the thin-faced, dark girl turned to her petu- lantly. "Never refer to him as a 'he," she completed softly.

Consuela was aware of the fear radiating out from the partly feminized youth and directed to her. "I won't wear

that!" he exclaimed, his voice strained and high-pitched.

As Consuela touched the nightgown, the frilly panties which went beneath fell to the floor. "Of course you will wear this," said Consuela with certainty

"I-I'll do it during the daytime," the youth stammer- ed. "B-But I-I can't wear th- that." His finger indicated the ribbons along the frilly panties and short nightie.

"Irena always did," said Consuela gently. "She said that pyjamas were for lesbians. You're not one of those, are you dear?"

Esteban gasped and pulled his knees up sharply to him. He was still wearing the dark blue, silk panties Consuela had put on him earlier that day.

"I-I'm not Irena!" he almost screamed at Consuela, the fear evident in his voice.

"Ah, but you must be!" Her tone was equally vehement and brooked no argument. "This may just be a silly game to you, and a great farce to your friend here," she pointed agrily at Isabel, "but it's my life, and Francisco Salluca's, and even your own. Yes, your life is riding on your being as good a coquette as Irena was. Oh, I

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know,' she smiled bitterly,

"you've heard me being in- sulting about Irena many times. Well, she had no morals, none at all, in politics or in bed. I doubt she truly believed in or loved anything or anyone in her whole life."

"That has nothing to do with 'her' right now," Isabel interrupted, stressing the 'her' SO that Consuela understood her.

"It has everything to do with 'her'," Consuela snapped back, indicating the terrified Esteban. "She must convince the Party that she's truly Irena. Then she will be able to do anything even arrange for our demise. Yes, think about that," she sneered at the surprise in Isabel's eyes. "But before she can do any of that, she has to think like a woman, act like a woman, and be a woman. To do it, she has to accept her role whole-heartedly with no pulling back, or else she'll never capture Irena's essential hold on the people.'

"

Consuela's black eyes glared at Esteban as she approached the sofa where he sat, the night- gown in her hand. "You have to be a very sexy, feminine woman. That's what Irena was. Men knew she was intelligent and aggressive equal to any of them; but they also found her fascinating. You have to