as she puts on each item of cloth- ing, a subtle change comes over Mary. Her mannerisms become ever so slightly masculine.

She takes the alligator shirt from its hanger and pulls it on over her head, delighting in the snug feeling it gives to her torso. Mary smoothes the shirt over her body, the alligator emblem rest- ing over her left breast as if it were ready to nibble.

Finally, a pair of Tom's Gucci loafers. With a little toilet paper wadding in the toe of each, they fit reasonably well. Her outfit is now complete. Mary steps in front of the full-length mirror in the bathroom and admires her- self. With her short hair, she can pass easily for a man, she thinks. An exhilarating feeling surges through her body as she looks at herself from every angle, running her hands over the fabric.

Feeling in such good spirits, she decides to spend the day as a male, to savor every bit of her new-found pleasure in wearing male clothing. She goes down- stairs, stops briefly at the front door to bring in the Sunday newspaper, and, in a few brisk steps, strides into the kitchen to make breakfast. She feels vaguely strange as she goes about her frying bacon cooking chores

...

and eggs clothing at a time when she normally would be wearing a house dress or negligee.

dressed in Tom's

Mary lingers over each bite of her breakfast, and, when finished she casually sips a cup of coffee. She plans some activities for the day, now that she is dressed as a male. A trip to a shopping mall, a stop to mail letters at the post office, maybe even a drive around the suburbs. The thought of doing all this while dressed as

Tom gives her a thrill of excite-

ment.

By now it is noon time. She jumps up, throws on one of Tom's windbreakers, takes one last look in the hall mirror, and goes out to her car. No nosey neighbors outside to see her. The coast is clear.

Her first stop is the local shop- ping mall. A group of teen-agers is gathered in front of the pin- ball emporium. Mary worries about how she will appear to them, but, as she passes, none of them look at her or even ac- knowledge her passing. Passed her first test, she thinks to her- self.

Mary stops in a couple of men's stores to look at shirts and ties. She is greeted by friendly salesmen in the stores, each ask- ing the obligatory question, "Can I help you, sir?". She smiles to herself and feels her self-confidence growing. Passed another test. Then back out into the main corridor.

A tall, large-boned woman emerges from Lane Bryant, looks nervously up and down the corri- dor, and heads quickly toward the exit. As she passes Mary, it is obvious from the heavy make- up and the beard shadow that the woman is really a transvestite Mary grins as she thinks about the irony of the situation. Like two ships passing in the night.

A couple of stops at other stores and her shopping chores are done. Mary leaves the mall and drives over to a nearby post office to mail some letters. The building is deserted today, being a Sunday. No chance of being read there.

Then, back home. Mary enters the apartment, tossing the wind- breaker over a chair, just as Tom

would, and plops down in one of the living room chairs to relax. Just as she picks up a magazine, there is a knock on the front door. Mary jumps up quickly and looks out a side window. It's Tom, complete in his feminine finery, suitcase in hand. Mary runs to open the door. Tom looks at her, gapes in amazement and stammers, "M-M-Mary, what on earth are you doing with my clothes on?"

"Oh, Tom, I just tried them. on this morning for the heck of it and fell in love with them".. says Mary, taking a hitch in her slacks. "I didn't think you'd mind".

"We.. I don't know... I didn't expect to come back and find you like this!" Tom takes off Mary's coat and drapes it over a chair. He is wearing one of Mary's nylon dresses, a pair of black pumps, and a new blonde wig.

"How was the convention?" asks Mary. "I notice you got yourself a wig. Looks good on you!"

"Yeah, the convention was fine", mutters Tom. "I got the wig at a boutique near the con- vention hotel." Then, hands on hips, Tom surveys Mary again. "I don't know what to make of you, Mary, parading around in my clothes while I'm gone. What will the neighbors think if they see you?"

Mary walks over and puts her arm around Tom's waist, patting him gently on the seat. "That's OK, honey, you'll get used to it ... just like I got used to your dressing up". Then, pulling him toward the bedroom, she mur- murs, "Come on now ... if you're a good boy I'll let you wear my new nightie to bed tonight!"