President than I, and he can step in as soon as our situation has been normalized." She smiled at Louis Ward suddenly, a smile so bright that the Ameri- can found himself staring at her, open-mouthed, as if he were a heroine-worshiping youth. She swept past him with a little lift of her feminine eyebrows as she went to speak to others in the crowded room on Aguilar's victory evening.

Consuela was annoyed with her when they prepared for bed that night. "You shouldn't treat Mr. Ward like that," she scolded. "He's in love with you, you know."

Irena had turned the bed down and was putting out the baby doll nightdress she liked to wear. "I know," she said, Consuela's returning huffy glance with an impish smile. "But he understands he can't have me. Will you undo my dress for me, dear?"

Consuela crossed the room and stood behind Irena. She unhooked and unzipped the long dress. As she had suspec- ted, Irena was wearing only the flimsiest of under-support bras. The hormone program she was on had changed her in many ways, but most notably in giving her the suggestion of full, rounded breasts. She wig- gled out of the dress, letting it slide over delicate women's underthings that hugged her soft-skinned body lovingly. Consuela rested her hand on Irena's bra, unhooking it for her, and then removing it.

Irena smiled as Consuela sat

on the bed eyeing Irena's feminine torso.

"Well?" she asked archly, putting a hand under her breast to show its increased size to her secretary. Consuela pulled a face and lay back on the bed as Irena stripped slowly, luxur- iating over each piece of fem- inine lingerie that she removed. Her panti-hose were slipped off slowly, drawing Consuela's attention to her more rounded

derriere and thighs, her body now feminine in aspect, cer- tainly not to be called boyish even when she was undressed, like now, save for white, silk panties. Irena's waist was, if anything, narrower, certainly shaplier, and she was fuller in the face, her hair thicker and shinier, in many ways a

woman.

SO

Irena pulled the nightie over her head and slipped into bed beside the watchful Con- suela. She put her arm over the other girl's body immediately and her mouth reached eagerly for Consuela. The secretary lay back and let Irena make love to her. She would soon make Irena shiver and shake in a moment by caressing her soft panties, or she might really arouse the 'girl' by gently stroking 'her' breasts.

Consuela no longer thought of the beautiful girl, hungrily kissing her as 'Esteban' or even as 'he.' It had been Isabel, in a wicked moment when Ricardo wasn't paying the attention that he should, who had proposed hormones for 'Irena' to make the deception

more secure, she said. Esteban Esteban hadn't ar- gued, and, from the flirtatious way that 'she' sometimes be-

Cotham

-48-

M

haved now, she seemed to enjoy the effect the prolonged light doses had produced. 'Her' picture, in a string bikini, its top just the tiniest piece of material, taken on on the only holiday they'd had that year, just before the election, had appeared everywhere. Now it was being worn T-shirts by the youth of El Monte, often with suggestive slogans. If only they knew, they knew, mused Consuela cynically, touching Irena on her hips, delighting to feel 'her' quake in antici- pation of further caressing, 'his' soft thighs locked about and matched with hers.

on

"Esteban," she said, giggle in her tone. There was no reply and so she ran her hands under the nightdress top to fondle the President's narrow waist, tugging gently at the top of his panties. "Esteban," she said again, trying to sound re- proachful.

"He doesn't live here any- more," the girl mumbled, start- ing to agitate as Consuela's hands went higher. "You should know that, Consuela," she went on. "After all, you're the one who made me the woman I am today."

*****

"This rivalry has got to stop, Harold!"

*END* * * *

***