to be nice proving to her that it was the real David Rennick in these clothes.

"I feel all right," he said lame- ly, looking her in the eyes. Far- rell was flirting with a waiter try- ing to con a date for a drink but the young guy wasn't having it. Farrell looked very pleased with himself as the waiter walked a- way.

"Did that feel good?" asked a smiling Sally. She seemed happy for the first time in a long time.

Farrell was shocked. He'd hardly realized what he was do- ing. "It's all right, dear," said Rosalie, touching his arm. "Come home with me tonight.

"

Farrell nodded. He bit his pink, glossy lower lip. He too had no eyebrows to speak of and with his fluffy Afro and small, sleeveless dress with the plunging front, he looked like an African Princess, particularly with the slave bracelets on his arms and the gold at his ears. He stood and smoothed his skirt. "Let's go!" he said hoarsely, his eyes on Rosalie, who stood up with a great, beaming smile, and took his hand.

The waiter looked after them in disgust as they went skipping out. "Lizzies!" he said, the word carrying the length of the bar.

Back in their flat, David didn't wait to change before he began to make love. Cindy responded just a little. She kept asking him to change, but soon she melted into his arms, and in fact, un- dressed him herself. She left on his bra and panties, though, and wouldn't take them off, even though her hands explored each part of his body.

"No!" She was quivering as she pulled away. "I'm not going to make it with another girl!"

"I'm not a girl!" David Ren- nick was affronted.

"You just smell, taste, look, dress and feel like one," retorted Cindy. She pulled away and went off to the bathroom, and even though David changed to his py- jamaas, she wouldn't snuggle up to him for a long time.

"Your hair," she said after a while. "It's so soft, and it smells like my sister's." As David moved closer to her, she ran her fingers over his face, smoothing down his thin eyebrows. She sighed. "I suppose you couldn't join another show?"

It was time to tell her. "I've been trying for the last two weeks," said David, letting her run her hands through his hair and over the earrings he'd for- gotten to remove. “I was offered a few dates as an impersonator. But I'll never work on the real stage again, nor will any of the guys."

Cindy stiffened. "But . she began.

•

"We're stuck with Nadine's show," he whispered. "If we quit we'll never be employed as dancers again. Even Ace knows it."

"I saw him leave," Cindy shook a little. She let David be- gin to make love to her. "I shouldn't have asked you to stick it out for the money." There was a wetness on her cheeks.

"No matter," said David, bit- ing her ear. "It's not so bad as it might be... so long as you're here to accept me as I am.”

"Or whatever Nadine turns you into," Cindy was crying.

•

"No," David was definite. "I'll never be like Babe or Lisa." He shuddered and it was Cindy's turn to hold him tight. “Anyway look at Marty. He's dressed like

- 16.

a girl for years and he's still a man. You've got Sally's word for that."

"Yes." Cindy began to kiss David, tasting the face powder and feeling the liner which he'd hardly removed from his eyes. He had so much yet to learn about being a woman so much that Cindy could teach him. She wondered what she should call him when she dressed him in

the morning. 'David' just wouldn't seem right for the wo- man she was going to create.

*

"I'm sorry we had to let Babe go," Nadine was saying to the two backers. "But she was just too much.'

""

"He was too much," one corrected her.

"Yes, that's what I said." There was a frown on her thin face; her red lips were pursed.

"I didn't follow it all," said the other.

"The Senator's wife was threatening to divorce him unless he broke off with Babe. She in- tended to cite Babe as the 'other woman'," said Nadine. "But David Rennick's come along really well, now he's adjusted to being dressed all the time. He'll be a really big star after this new review."

"You still want to call it Cross Currents?" asked the se- cond, fatter man.

"Or Crossover. Which do you think is best?” Nadine sounded anxious.

The fat guy shrugged. "David Rennick?" he asked. "Can't you come up with a more suggestive name than that? Peaches or Bubbles or something?"

"He isn't a stripper," said Na- dine angrily."He's a true artiste." She buzzed the intercom. "Send