Though Nancy was passionate and permissive, she wouldn't let me remove any clothing. I soon found out why: she was expecting her sister to come home a... about this time. And when we heard the sound of a key in a lock, we were able in a flash to sit up, pull down Nancy's sweater and skirt, lean our backs against the sofa, and look innocently at the TV.Nancy's sister was a college girl with the cool look of a model, prettier and slimmer than Nancy but not nearly so cute. Boyfriend was. What she said made sense. I trudged home, exhaustedfrom my efforts. I stopped to take a good look atmyself in the mirrored surface of a drugstore. Ilooked feminine, perhaps, but not like a woman. Maybea feminine man. But as anyone knows who's seen thediversity of New York City, women come in every size,shape and type, as do men. There is no one woman, orone man. Melissa has all the classic traits of thepurest womanhood, but she is a rare creature. I wasn'ta homely feminine human, I could see in. More

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