The Stock Take

By

Susan Brown

My thanks go to Kristina LS for knocking this into shape.

I was a good salesman; well I think so, anyway. I had won the monthly best salesman award on no less than ten occasions in the last five years, so at least a few others must think so too.

I worked in the menswear department at Doyle's, a landmark department store in the centre of town. It was Doyle's proud boast that they would never be beaten on price and quality; and they rarely were. Anyway, enough of the sales pitch.

I was sorting out some socks. I hate socks; they always seemed to need sorting. If only customers could be neat whilst rummaging.

Anyway I was sorting out the rights from the lefts when the Department Manager, Mr Avery walked over to me.

‘Ah, Mr Simms, we are a little quiet here at the moment and Miss Fissler of the ladies department has three girls off sick. Would you kindly consider helping them out for the day?’

I had known the man for eight years and we were still on a Mr Simms and Mr Avery footing, even though we sometimes went to the pub after work and were semi friends, I suppose.

I, of course, had no choice but to agree to cross the boundary and go to the ‘other side’.

It was with some misgivings then that I presented myself to the formidable head of the ladies department.

‘Ah, Mr Simms,’ said the rather prim Miss Fissler, ‘thank you for joining us at such short notice. Please, if you would go over to skirts and blouses. I'm afraid you will be on your own; but a person of your skill and experience will have little trouble selling our lines.’

The small sales desk sat in the midst of hundreds of skirts and blouses of all different colours, styles, fabrics and prices. I took a moment to orient myself and get my bearings before my first customer, a lady of uncertain age, came up carrying a bright pink blouse and pale pink skirt.

‘I would like to try these on please.’

‘Certainly, madam.’

I showed her to the changing room and waited outside while she tried the items on. After what seemed an age she came out. ‘What do you think?’ she asked.

I thought that she looked just a little ridiculous. The colours clashed with each other and also her florid complexion and to cap it all, she was slightly too old to be wearing such a short skirt.

‘Well madam, to be honest I think that you would be more suited to something a little more discreet to show off your classic beauty. If you don't mind my asking, are you shopping for a special occasion?’

As you can see, to be a salesperson you need to have certain amount of tact and diplomacy. A poker face can be rather useful too.

‘Yes, I have a business meeting and I want to look just right.’

I nodded thoughtfully and crossed to a rail and picked out a classic white silk blouse and then a calf length full black skirt that would slim her ample hips.

‘Would you like to try these on? I'm sure that this will give you just the right effect for your meeting. Classical and elegant.’

She looked doubtful.

‘Trust me,’ I said, ‘these will make you look and feel great.’

Still looking uncertain, the lady went to change and came out a few minutes later, smiling and happy.

‘You're quite right, I look wonderful, I'll take them both.’

I was very happy that my first few minutes in the Ladies Department were so successful and throughout that day, I managed to sell many items of clothing to all types of ladies; those with and without dress sense. I must admit that I was enjoying myself. Doyle's Ladies Department had a reputation for having the best selection of women’s clothing in town and judging by the number of customers I served; it was very popular with women of all ages.

At 4.30, Miss Fissler came over looking rather flustered and said, ‘I've been badly let down. Miss Moore and Mrs Peacock were supposed to come in this evening to do the stock-take, but both have caught that nasty bug that's been doing the rounds. I have to do the stock-take tonight otherwise there will be trouble. Are you doing anything this evening?’

‘Not really, I have nothing planned.’

To be frank I never had anything ‘planned’.

‘You have done a stock-take on your department, haven't you?’

‘Yes, many times.’

‘Would you mind doing it for this section whilst I do the others with Miss Frost?’

‘Of course not,’

‘Thank you Mr Simms, you’re a God send.’

It must have been about 5.45pm just a quarter of an hour before close. Things had quietened and as no customers were in my section at the time. I was busying myself putting some skirts that had been left in the changing room back onto the rails.

I heard a quiet cough behind me and as I turned a lady with a slightly hoarse voice said, ‘Can I try on this skirt, please?’

She was a tall, broad shouldered, somewhat athletic looking woman.

‘Certainly Madam,’ I said showing her the way to the changing room.

She was gone a few moments before re-emerging.

‘What do you think?’ she said.

The skirt suited her and made her look a bit slimmer. I thought she looked very nice in it. ‘It looks lovely, Madam,’ I said truthfully.

She had one more look in the full length mirror and said, ‘I'll take it.’

She changed back into her other clothes and then handed me the skirt to put in a bag.

‘How would Madam like to pay?’

She handed over a credit card, which I ‘swiped’ through the till. I then got her to sign the slip and I checked the name and signature. I was just about to hand the receipt and card back to her when I noticed that the name on the card said George Phillips.

‘I'm sorry Madam I can't accept your card, as it’s in the name of George Phillips. Is it your husband's?’

She laughed rather deeply and said, ‘No silly, I'm George Phillips.’

My mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. As an award-winning salesman, I should have been able to pass a witty remark, glossed over it and carried on, but I just didn’t know what to say. I was stunned.

‘Don't look so surprised,’ she said… I mean, he said… I mean I didn't know what I was meant to call the person in front of me! What I do know is that I was more embarrassed than I had ever been before in my life.

‘Look,’ said George, ‘I'm a cross-dresser, a lot of us come here to buy clothes, we like the selection. Come to think of it, I've never seen you here; are you new?’

I found my voice and while George was talking, had managed to regain some of my composure. ‘I have been seconded from the menswear department for the day.’

‘Well dear, the name I use when I'm dressed en femme is Diane. You know, you have a nice figure you should try dressing like me, its fun. Anyway, it's been lovely to talk to you but I have to meet some girls at the club. Can I have my skirt now?’

I handed over the skirt and mumbled my apologies and Diane, George or whoever, walked out of the store.

The doors were shut shortly thereafter and as the various employees left for home, I started on the stock-take.

I could hear Miss Fissler sorting out her section as I worked away trying to reconcile the printout I had with the stock on the rails and shelves. I was going rather slowly being un-used to the section and not knowing where everything was.

Before I knew it, Miss Fissler was standing beside me asking, ‘How are you doing?’

‘OK, thanks I should be finished soon.’

‘Well,’ said Miss Fissler, ‘I have finished my section, do you need a hand?’

‘No, that's alright, thank you. I won't be long now.’

‘Then I'll be going home. Don't forget to tell security on the ground floor when you’ve finished. Good night and thank you for your help Mr Simms.’

With that, Miss Fissler together with Miss Frost left, leaving me alone on the shop floor.

I continued with my lists but I kept on making small mistakes and having to go back and correct them.

I was still feeling a certain amount of disquiet over my encounter with George or Diane as the case may be. I don't know why I was troubled I couldn't put my finger on it. I considered myself a man of the world, not easily shocked. I wasn't upset over what had occurred but something, I didn't know what, was bothering me.

Needing a break and a pick me up I made my way downstairs to the canteen and got myself a coke from the machine. When I arrived, the duty security man was there; I vaguely recognised him but didn't know his name.

‘Hi there,’ I said putting the money in the slot.

‘Hello, you're Mr Simms aren't you? Late night tonight?’

‘Yes, I'm doing the stock-take and it's taking slightly longer than I expected.’

‘Well, I'll keep out of your way; just let me know when you finished, OK?’

‘Yes, I'll do that.’

I took my coke back up to the women's department.

I passed one of the mannequins dressed in a sky blue satin dress.

‘That looks nice,’ I thought as I passed, ‘I wonder what it might be like to wear?’

With that I just stopped in my tracks, nearly spilling my drink, not quite believing what I had just thought to myself.

I was shocked and then reasoned that I obviously still had my encounter with that cross-dresser on my mind.

I went back to my section and carried on working, but for some reason I can't explain, every time I looked up, my eyes strayed to the figure in the satin dress. I went over and over the same figures, getting angrier and angrier with myself. I couldn't get that damned dress out of my head. It was if an inner voice was saying, ‘Diane was right I should just try dressing up’.

I stopped writing, sat down and took a sip of my drink. I was sweating slightly and I could feel a small rivulet trickling down the small of my back.

What on earth was wrong with me? I wish I had never served Diane, and cursed her for putting such ridiculous thoughts into my head. My hands were shaking; I was getting myself wound up like a tight spring, if I didn’t do something about it, I thought I might snap.

I looked at that damn mannequin again. It seemed like she was looking at me. A slight smile played on her painted lips. Did she just wink at me?

Was I going mad? I shook my head, trying to clear it but after a few seconds, I sighed, put my pen down and rubbed my eyes. It was no good; my mind was not on my work.

The next thing I knew I was standing by the mannequin and was unbuttoning the dress. I had stopped thinking and in no time the slick blue satin was in my hands.

I looked around; there was nobody on my floor. I was sure I was safe so stripped naked and then I started to slip on the dress.

The thought intruded that if I was going to do this, it had to be done properly Leaving the dress draped on a chair I wandered over to the lingerie department found a lacy bra which I put on, and then not being satisfied with the look, unwrapped a pair of stockings and bunching them up put one in each cup. It took a while to get the right shape, but I eventually managed to make them look reasonably like breasts.

Turning slowly I looked around and smiled, yes, some lacy suspenders and another pair of silky stockings. I marvelled at the feel of these and how they clung to my legs. Another two pieces in a lovely satin cream colour caught my eye, the French knickers slipped up and into place and the camisole settled with a gentle caress.

I could feel my heart pounding in my breast as I dressed and I find it hard to describe the feelings that I had as I felt the silky feminine lingerie on my naked body, it was almost beyond description.

I now knew what Diane meant, what it was like to wear clothes that were sexy and sensuous. I went back to the dress and slid it over my body, doing up the single tiny button at the back. It fit like a glove.

You may be wondering what my thoughts were while all this was going on. All I can say is that it seemed as if I was in a dream. That it wasn't me putting on these clothes but someone else, with me just going along for the ride, feeling their thoughts and experiencing their sensations. Decidedly odd, but wonderful!

Standing there in the dress, I looked at the now unclothed mannequin and noted the long blond wig still sitting on it. I slipped it off and placed it over my own short hair.

As I stood adjusting the wig I saw that the mannequin's face had painted on makeup so the next thought popping into my head was that I should also wear makeup to complete the illusion.

The make up section had a bewildering range of products and colours on offer. There were many testers for foundations, powders, blushers, eye shadows, lipsticks and all the other things needed to beautify a women's face. There was almost too much choice.

I went to the nearest counter, put on a smock to protect the dress, temporarily took the wig off and started trying different things to go with the dress, the wig and my complexion.

I tried all sorts of cosmetics to make my face up the way I wanted and made a great many mistakes that had to be wiped off and re-done. Remember I had never done this before and it obviously showed.

One problem was my beard stubble, but luckily I found a ladies shaver and managed to get off the sparse growth to my satisfaction.

I persevered with the makeup and finally got it semi-right. The foundation looked OK and the blusher was in the right place. I put on the mascara without it getting in my eyes. I then used the eyeliner and was surprised at how nice my eyes looked, especially when I had completed the picture with a nice shadow. The lip- gloss was a warm pink that went well with the rest of my now feminised face. I put the wig back on, brushing it into shape and I was finished.

That was it! Now, time to look at the finished product, but then I stopped, I had no shoes everything had to be just right and I couldn't say I was complete with no shoes on.

I went to the shoe department and tried on several pairs. The choice was a bit limited in my size but I eventually found a pair of black sling backs with two-inch heels that fitted reasonably comfortably. The shoes were awkward to stand and walk on, but by the time I had staggered back to my section, they felt fine.

I was now dressed from head to toe as a woman. I was wearing clothes that I never in my wildest dreams thought I would ever wear. I could feel the sensual silk, lace and satin against my skin. I looked down at my body and decided that the dress looked good on me. The wig was heavy but did not feel out of place, the hair was temporarily part of me.

Then I seemed to come out of my dream. I had done what I had set out to do, but I felt vaguely uneasy and I didn't know why.

I now knew how it was to dress and look like a woman and I must admit that it felt great but at the same time I felt guilty. I shouldn’t be wearing these clothes. I’m a man, not a woman.

I ran to the men’s room, grabbing my men’s clothes on the way and as quickly as I could took it all off, trying not to tear anything.

As I undressed, I had a feeling of revulsion. I thought that I was perverted to want to wear women’s’ clothes. I was angry with myself. What was I doing, I must be mad!

Thoughts and self-doubt wracked me. I scrubbed my face to get all traces of makeup off, leaving my face red and sore.

I was almost in tears as I dressed myself as a man again.

Finally, I was again Peter Simms. I looked at myself in the mirror and it wasn’t a pretty sight. Gone was the glamour and back was the boring old male me.

‘I will just have to live with it. I am a man, not a woman!’

I put all the clothes back where they came from. I had the strange sensation that the mannequin looked unhappy as I put the dress back on it, but that was my stupid imagination going into overload.

I finished off the stock take, saved the information to disk, left it on Miss Fissler’s desk, with a note as to what I had done and went home; saying goodbye to the security man on the way out.

‘Goodbye, Mr Simms, have a good evening.’

‘Thanks, you too.’

‘Oh, nothing much happens here at night.’

I smiled at that as I pushed through the heavy doors and out into the night.

As always I caught the number 36 from the corner.

It was quite late now and there weren’t many people on the bus.

I sat in the back and tried to read my book. Bob Heinlein’s, 'Door into Summer'. It was about a man deciding to leave a life suddenly turned sour and using sci-fi technology, he takes a long sleep and wakes up thirty years in the future…I know how he felt and wondered if my life would be any better in the future or even the morning.

2

I got off at my bus stop and trudged the 300 yards to the house where my flat was.

The neighbourhood used to be quite posh, but it was a bit run down now.

I walked up the steps and let myself in using my key and could not help noticing the peeling wallpaper and the slightly stale smell of boiling cabbage emanating from one of the other flats.

My flat was on the third floor and I was a bit puffed by the time I reached it.

Breathing heavily, I put my key in the lock and let myself in.

Switching on the light, I blinked as the harsh light, lit the room.

It wasn’t a very big flat, just a lounge, kitchen bedroom and bathroom; but it was OK for my needs.

I took my jacket off, made myself a cup of tea and sighed as I sat in my old comfortable armchair.

I must have drifted off as I jerked slightly as my cup slipped to the floor.

Cursing a bit, I cleaned the mess off the carpet, put the cup in the sink and then made some toast. I wasn’t very hungry.

I took the still warm toast into the bedroom and munched as I got ready for bed. It wasn’t that late but I was tired after all that had happened to me that day; I needed my beauty sleep. A small smile crossed my face at that thought. My mind going back to when, for a short while anyway, I was not Peter Simms, but a lovely girl.

I finished my toast, and went into the bathroom to clean my teeth.

After I finished, I wiped my damp mouth with a towel.

There were traces of pink on the towel. I must have missed a bit of lipstick, when cleaning myself up in the shop.

I looked at the towel and I could feel a tear in the corner of my eye.

‘Stop it.’ I said to myself sternly as I threw the towel into the wash basket, switched off the bathroom light and put my scratchy PJ’s on.

Soon, I was in bed trying to read again.

I must have fallen asleep, as the next thing I knew, I was woken by my alarm clock.

Not one to lie in bed, I sighed as I got myself up and braced myself mentally for another day at work.

3

I was back into 'the shop' about half an hour before opening. I liked to get there early while all was still peaceful.

I was glad to be back in the menswear department and said hello to my boss, Mr Avery,

‘Ah, Mr Simms, good morning.’

‘Morning Mr Avery.’

‘I have just spoken to Miss Fissler. It turns out that she is very short of girls again today as two of them have phoned in sick. Can you help her out once more?’

‘Is there no one else?’

‘Afraid not and anyway, she specifically asked for you. She was very pleased with the way you worked yesterday; you obviously made quite an impression.’

I had no choice and crossed once more into the ladies department, studiously avoiding the gaze of the mannequin in the blue silk dress.

‘Hello, Mr Simms,’ enthused Miss Fissler, ‘thank you so much for helping out again. I reviewed yesterday’s sales figures and they were well up on what we expected and that was, in the main, down to you I believe.’

I blushed but said nothing.

The day seemed to cruise by on autopilot. I kept thinking about what had happened the previous evening.

I remembered the sensations of the clothes on my skin, the fine textures of the fabrics, the colour and feel of the dress as it swayed on my body as I walked in the two-inch heels.

I recalled the taste of the lipstick on my lips and the way the blond wig framed my painted face.

Every time I looked at the mannequin, I felt that it was looking at me. Inviting me to go over, strip it and become… me, again.

How I got to the end of the day, I do not know. Emotions kept welling up in me. I wanted to cry, but men don’t cry.

‘I must be coming down with something,’ I thought, wiping my sweaty brow, ‘that’s why I’m like this. Yes that must be it.’

I was just tidying up, prior to going home when an out of breath Miss Fissler came rushing up.

‘Oh, Mr Simms, something terrible has happened.’

Whatever’s wrong, Miss Fissler?’

‘That stupid, stupid girl in accounts has wiped the disk.’

‘What disk?’

‘Your stock-take list.’

‘Oh no, how did she manage that?’

‘She thought that it was old records for re-formatting, stupid girl.’

‘But I marked it, ‘stock take’ with department and date.’

‘I know, she’s so sorry; I left her in tears I can tell you! She was rushing to finish her work and just didn’t notice the label. She just blundered ahead and wiped it clean.’

Miss Fissler looked at me with an embarrassed expression on her face.

‘Mr Simms, I have a problem. I can’t do it because my mother is in hospital and I have to see her tonight. She’s not very well at all. Can I impose on you again? You will be paid double time and also I can swing a day off next week when we are fully staffed again. What do you think? We really must have the stock take finished for tomorrow’s deadline.’

I looked at her concerned face. She had enough to cope with, what with a sick mother and everything. What had I got to look forward to tonight? Not a great deal. But…

‘OK, I’ll do it. You go and see your mother.’

‘She squeaked, kissed me on the cheek, blushed and then rushed off.

Quite soon it was quiet in 'the shop' as everyone went home to do what normal people do.

I got on quite quickly with the stock take, practice makes perfect. I concentrated on the work and not the clothes if you see what I mean, completely ignoring the mannequin and refusing to so much as look at her, I mean it.

Two hours later I was nearly finished.

Still I was in no hurry and decided to go down to the kitchen and make myself a coffee.

As the kettle boiled, a noise behind me caused me to jump.

4.

‘Hello Mr Simms.’

It was the security man.

‘Oh hello, you startled me.’

‘Sorry about that. Just finished have you?’

‘I have a bit of a way to go; I’m making myself a coffee, want some?’

‘Yes please. Milk with one.’

He went and sat at one of the tables and I walked over with the drinks.

‘Well Mr Simms, I hear that Sally was very upset.’

‘Sally?’

‘Yes the girl that wiped that disk. It seems that she had just broken off with her boyfriend and she hasn’t been sensible all day.’

‘Ah well, these things happen.’

‘True, true.’

We sat in companionable silence as we sipped our drinks.

‘Well,’ said the security guard, getting up. ‘I’ll see you when you leave. I’ll be in the basement watching the football so I won’t disturb you.’

‘OK, see you later.’

5.

About an hour later, I had finally finished, again.

I saved the work, put in on a floppy again and left it on Miss Fissler’s desk.

I stretched and yawned as I looked over at the mannequin.

Something pulled me towards it. I felt a strange compulsion to repeat the dressing episode of yesterday. I looked around. No one was here. The security guard was downstairs watching football. This might be my last chance. All my doubts about dressing and the rights and wrongs of it flew out the window as I once again took my clothes off and feverishly replaced them with the same ensemble as the night before. Then it was time for the dress. I swear that I saw the mannequin smile as I carefully removed the silky dress and slid it down my waiting body.

It took several minutes, but what the hell, I was new to this. I loved the way the stockings hugged my legs in a silken embrace.

Next, over to the shoe department and picked out the same shoes that I wore yesterday.

I tottered over to the makeup counter and applied it as best I could. Slightly better than yesterday, but it still wasn’t perfect.

I sighed.

‘Well Rome wasn’t built in a day.’ I whispered to myself.

After applying the makeup, I put on the wig, brushed it out and that was it, I was that girl again.

I walked over to the mirror and saw myself as others would see me. I stared at the face. It was a face that could have been my sister, if I had one. It was a female version of me, much prettier and far more interesting than I ever was. I had led a pretty boring life up to now. I wasn't very adventurous, no personal life to speak of; only one steady girl friend who ditched me after only two months. I seemed to have lived for my work, rather than worked to live, and it had been like that for many years now.

As I saw this new version of me in the mirror I realised that I could change. I could make a life for myself.

Just then I heard a cough behind me. I nearly tripped in my shoes as I turned round and saw Diane standing there smiling!

‘Hi honey, you look nice,’

I was so shocked I was speechless for a few seconds before I found my voice.

‘How, how did you get in here?’ I croaked.

‘Don't you recognise me, I work here.’

I looked hard at the face and then suddenly realised, ‘You're the security man!’

Diane laughed and said, ‘that’s me, but I prefer looking like this to wearing a uniform. I'm glad you took my advice about dressing, I just knew you would look good, en femme.’

‘En what?’

‘En femme; dressed as a girl. Nice, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know. It feels nice but feels wrong at the same time. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Of course, love. I’ve been through self doubt and loathing and all of that stuff. But the way I look at it is, you only have one life, so live it the way you want to.’

‘I suppose.’ I said, not too convinced. ‘I thought that you were watching the football?’

‘I was. I was also looking at the monitors. That’s my job. I saw what you were doing, just like yesterday evening.’

I blanched at this and whispered, ‘You… you saw, will you tell?’

‘Of course not,’ he laughed, ‘we are both in the same boat after all. Look at me!’

We spoke long into the night. Diane explained that she had started wearing women's clothes as a kid, sneaking into his mother's bedroom and trying on her things, whenever the coast was clear.

‘When I got this job,’ said Diane, ‘it was like I had died and gone to Heaven. Here I was in the middle of the night all alone and surrounded by all these beautiful things. I couldn’t resist it. Almost every night I would come up here and get dressed and every night’s different. I have themes, one night I dress up as if I was going dancing, the next I might be a businesswoman just about to go to a power meeting. Sometimes I just wear a nightie and negligee. Whatever mood I'm in, I dress to suit it.’

‘Don't you worry about getting caught?’

‘Like I caught you!’ said Diane laughing, ‘no, I lock and bolt the doors and the exterior alarms are on. I would know it if anyone tried to get in, I assure you. As long as I call the security centre once an hour and stay away from any windows, it’s OK. If I didn't call in, that's when they would all come running. Mind you, I have to be careful that the security tapes are wiped, so that there's no record of me dressed like this! Shall we go and get some coffee?’

'Um, camera's, tapes?!', I felt a little queasy.

'Don't worry your secrets safe, I wiped it.'

She looked sincere, so I relaxed but after a moments thought said, ‘I suppose I had better change out of these things.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, they don't belong to me,’

‘Stay as you are, I think you look lovely. Unless you really want to change back. The night's young yet. I'll help you finish the stock-take later, if you haven’t done it already.’

I looked down at myself and then looked at the mirror. I did like wearing these clothes. I loved the feel and the look and I particularly liked the change I felt inside being dressed as a woman, a lovely sexy woman at that and not boring old Peter Simms. It was very liberating.

‘I’ve finished the stock-take but I could stay for a while. I haven’t got anything to go back to, after all.’

I glanced down at myself and marvelled at how well I felt and looked in these clothes that were, a short time ago, so alien to me.

‘Do you think I would get away with going out dressed like this,’ I said,

‘Honey, if I can with my figure, I know you can.’

3

And so it was that I started my new life. During the day I was Peter Simms and at night and over the weekends I was Samantha.

Quite often I would spend my evenings in the store with Diane, trying on new clothes and new looks. At other times I went out to clubs, meeting other TV's like myself. One day I met a girl at one of the clubs. She had come with her brother who was a TV, out for the first time. She loved her brother enough to go out with him. The club was a very friendly place and welcomed TV's and their partners as well. I got talking to the girl, the 'GG' named Amanda and we hit it off straight away. To cut a long story short, we fell in love and got married just three months after we first met. Talk about a whirlwind romance!

Amanda accepted, as I did, that I was a transvestite, and that TV’s were not sick or weird, but people who naturally and genuinely need to dress en femme some of the time.

It is now six years later, I'm still happily married to Amanda. I still work at Doyle's but I am now the manager of both the men's and women’s departments. Diane also still works there and both Amanda and I quite often join her in the evening, along with some of our other TV friends. Some are gay, some bi, some straight. It doesn't really matter; we’re all people under the skin and comfortable with ourselves, the way we are and our lives. My sincere hope is that one day everyone will be treated equally regardless of what or who they are or how they dress.

Sometimes I wonder what it might be to transition fully into womanhood, but for now, my lovely wife Amanda and I are happy as we are.

We have never been caught out in our adventures, mainly because of my position and the fact that one of our TV friends just happens to be the neighbourhood policeman! We dress up in the shop and have a great time trying everything on. But we are very careful not to leave a trace.

It is on these occasions that I think back to the very first time I dressed en femme and I thank Miss Fissler with all my heart for leaving me alone on that fateful night. I never mind staying back for stock take.

THE END