The door snapped open. "Miss Smith!"

Johann started with surprise, then answered savagely, "Miss Gersten, what the devil do you mean by bursting into my bath without knocking?"

The nurse ignored the outburst, hurried to her patient, put an arm around her. "Lean on my shoulder, let's get you back into bed. Oh, dear, I don't know what Dr. Garcia will say! He'll kill me—are you all right?" Johann saw that the little nurse was about to cry.

"Of course I'm all right." Johann tried to shrug off the arm, found that the girl was stronger than she looked. "You didn't answer."

The nurse did cry then. "Oh, please, dear, don't argue with me! Let's get you into bed before you hurt yourself. Maybe Dr. Garcia won't be quite so angry."

Seeing that the younger woman was most unpro­fessionally disturbed, Johann let herself be urged out into the bedroom and to the bed. The little redhead caught her breath. "There! Now if you'll hold tight around my neck, I can get your legs up-you bad, bad girl! To worry me so!"

Johann did not cooperate. "Winnie."

"Yes, dear? Oh, do let me get you into bed! Doctor will be terribly angry."

"Not so fast. If you're planning on telling teacher, go do it. I can hang onto the bed, I won't fall."

The nurse looked desperate. "Are you trying to get me fired, Miss? Maybe blacklisted? What have I ever done to you?"

"Winnie dear."

"Yes?"

"You aren't going to say a word to Dr. Garcia." Johann slid an arm around the redhead's waist. "Are you?"

The nurse looked flustered but did not pull away. "Well, I should. I'm supposed to report everything."

"But you aren't going to. And I'm not going to tell him, either. Tight secret, just you and me. And no huhu for anyone."

"Well... I won't if you won't."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Johann kissed her. Winnie did not dodge but seemed startled and somewhat timid. Then she caught her breath and her lips opened and the kiss progressed rapidly.

The nurse pulled her mouth free and said huskily, "I could get fired almost as quickly for this." She did not say what "this" was. She ignored the fact that Johann's free hand was cupping one of her breasts,

"So we'll stop and I'll get into bed—no, don't help me; I don't need it."

Johann proved it by doing it. The nurse pulled the sheet over her,, at once resumed her professional persona. "Now let's put our clothes back on, shall we?" She stooped to retrieve them. "What a naughty girl, throwing her clothes on the floor. And giving me such a fright."

"Stuff ‘em in the hamper. I'm not going to wear them."

"Now, now, dear. You needn't wear the jacket. Just the gown. Or do you want a fresh one?"

"Winnie, I'm not going to wear those silly angel robes ever again, so chuck it. You can hang up the jacket. But I won't wear a hospital gown. I'll stay raw."

"Dr. Garcia—"

"Quit threatening me with Dr. Garcia. We're past that. Aren't we?"

The nurse bit her lip. "Well... yes."

"It's none of his business if I sleep raw. And I shall, until something more appropriate can be bought for me. Or—Do you sleep in the house? Maybe you could lend me a nightie. A girl-type nightgown."

"Well, yes, I sleep here. But I can't lend you a gown because, well—I sleep raw myself."

"Sensible."

"But there are nightgowns and negligees and things right here. In your dressing room."

"Be damned. Who ordered them?"

"I don't know, Miss Smith. They were brought in and —stored there when, well, when it became clear that you were going to need them."

"Good planning. Uh, do you know if they're my size? Whatever that, size is, I don't know myself."

"Oh, yes! I helped measure you."

"More good planning. Find me the most feminine -nightgown in there—I might as well practice."

"Glad to." The nurse left the bedroom.

(Butch.) (Oh, nonsense, Eunice. Sure, she's a cute little trick...but I simply suddenly realized what treatment she would respond to. Had to dig back into my memory; I'm out of practice.) (‘Butch' I said. You enjoyed it.) (Didn't you enjoy it?) (Sure I did. She kisses like don't-stop. But I'm not a hypocrite about it. Who was shocked when I said girls could be a blast? You, you dirty old hypocrite. And butch.)

(Eunice, you are out of your frimping mind. I've had most of a century to appreciate girls; do you expect me to change overnight? The time I'll feel like a queer is the first time some man kisses us. I'll probably faint.) (Poor Boss. Doesn't know whether he's A.C. or D.C. Never mind, dear, Eunice will coach you—as I do know how to kiss a man.)

(I imagine you do.) (Was there salt in that one? Never mind, I know how. He faints. Boss, you claimed you had done everything. Everything?) (See here, little snoopy, I am not going to give you any excuse to call me both ‘butch' and ‘pansy' in the same sentence. You can have my memoirs later. But, Eunice, speaking of butch, is that what Winnie is? She certainly responded.) (More ‘sweetheart' than ‘butch' is my guess, though she may stroll both sides of Gay Street. But if you were asking ‘Is she a Lez?' then I would bet anything she's not. Ambi, sure, but much more interested in men. Haven't you watched her? Sparks.)

Winnie returned with a nightgown in each hand. "I think these two are the prettiest, Miss Smith. I thought—"

"Winnie."

"Yes, Miss Smith?"

"No ‘Miss Smith.' I mean you are not to call me ‘Miss Smith.' Not after kissing me. Or did I get the message wrong?" (Butch.) (Shut up, Eunice. She's going to help us.)

The nurse said nothing, blushed.

Johann said gently, "That's answer enough, dear. So call me—no, damn it, I don't want you to call me ‘Johann.' I need a new name. Winnie dear, what girl's name is closest to ‘Johann'?"

"Uh, ‘Johanna.'

"Mmmm, yes. But there is already a ‘Johanna' in my family. Got another?"

"Well... if you called yourself ‘Joan' and gave it the two-syllable pronounciation, it would be almost like ‘Johann' except for the ‘J' instead of the ‘Y' sound."

"Perfect! You've named me. I think that makes you my godmother. Do you mind being godmother to an old, old man who has just been reborn as a woman?"

Winnie smiled. "I'm flattered."

"So call mc ‘Joan,' not ‘Miss Smith.' Uh, I need a middle name. ‘Eunice.' " (Why, Boss, now I'm flattered.)—(Yes, beloved. Now shut up.) " ‘Joan Eunice Smith.' Winnie, do you know why that's my middle name?"

The nurse said slowly, "I'm not supposed to know."

"Then you do know. It's for the sweet and gracious lady who gave me this wonderful body—and I hope she can hear rue wherever she is." (I can, Boss!) "Put down those gowns and come here and name me with my new name.

Name me formally, for it's all the christening I will ever have. Then seal it."

Almost timidly the little redhead came close to the bed, bent over her patient. She said softly, "I name thee ‘Joan Eunice' "—and kissed her.

Perhaps Winnie intended to make it a formal peck; Joan Eunice did not let it be. Both women were leaking tears before it was over.

Joan patted the nurse's cheek and let her straighten up. "Thank you, dear. I'm Joan now. Joan Eunice. Hand me a tissue and you need one, too." (How was that one, Eunice?) (Butch, your technique is improving. I felt that one clear down in our toes.) (Who the hell are you calling ‘Butch,' Butch? My name is Joan Eunice.) (No, you're Joan and I am Eunice and collectively we're Joan Eunice and I've never had a nicer present, Boss. Joan. And I know you're not a butch but you had better cool it with our godmother. Unless you mean business.)

"Which gown do you like... Joan?"

"Winnie, I don't know first verse about women's clothes. What do you think?"

"Well...this Cretan design is rather extreme. But you have the figure to justify it." (No, Boss! Take the one with. the high neckline.) (Eunice, I thought you were proud of our bumps? They don't really sag.) (It's not that at all. Trust me, Joan; I know what I'm doing.)