My mother said I never should
Prance with a yanceman in the wood.
If I did, she would say,
You naughty girl to disobey.
Disobey.
Disobey.
On your husband’s holiday.
Ildefonsa giggled. “You always dug that, Hero. Remember? You used to make me sing and dance it.”
“The name is Wish, my dear. Mr. Wish.”
“He’s really spaced, BB. That number could always hustle him into the water gap. Hero believed I was the pure type singing smut I didn’t understand.”
“Way out.”
“Just typical. He never knew the score. You think I should try the dance bit? It’s a strip.”
“Why not? Wait. Wear this.”
Ildefonsa looked at the cabochon in Gretchen’s palm. “What is it?”
Gretchen felt a little better. “It’s an uncut diamond.”
“You want me to wear it?”
“Please.”
“What on? I’ll be stripped.”
“Wear it in your navel.”
“For God’s—There? How?”
“It’s mounted on skinstick.”
“Why do I wear it?”
“It’s the key to a locked drawer.”
“Whose?”
“His.”
“Sounds like he’s acquired some kinky kicks since I knew him.”
“He has. No, Nell, don’t let him see you put it in place; it’s got to be flashed on him suddenly. Use my bedroom.”
Ildefonsa nodded and went through the door that Gretchen opened for her. She came out in a few moments, making sure that the door remained open. “Groovy bed,” she commented approvingly. “It could turn therapy into a thrill. Those mirrors! All countdown now.”
“Should I leave you alone together?”
“Why? Maybe you’ll learn something useful.”
“There’s always room for improvement,” Gretchen agreed through her teeth.
Ildefonsa took position before Mr. Wish and began to sing and dance rather clumsily. (“Rotten coordination in the vertical.”) The lettuce-sequin apparat was designed to break apart in convenient sections (“But not designed with dancing in mind.”) which Ildefonsa cast aside any which way until she was stripped down to her glowing blush skin for the final flash. She turned slowly, displaying every thrust of her plummy body, flashed and held the pose before Mr. Wish. Gretchen choked back a growl.
The diamond was close and level with his eyes. Mr. Wish stared at it. Then his eyes dropped to the mons veneris, lifted to the breasts, and at last to Ildefonsa’s face. He turned pale.
“But… but you’re Ildy,” he faltered. His eyes dropped to the cabochon. “Why… What are… Why are you wearing Gretchen’s diamond?” He arose slowly and looked around in bewilderment. “I’ve lost connection.”
Ildefonsa held out her plummy arms to him. “Come on, stud. We’ll reconnect.”
“But it… I… It’s not then. It’s now. Now.” His voice strengthened. “God almighty, what am I doing with you, Ildy? Here? You like this. Wearing Gretchen’s diamond. Giving me that old Ipanema gig. Christ! I put you away a year ago.”
“I took her out of the drawer, Blaise,” Gretchen said quietly.
He shook his head slowly. “You? Did this? To me?”
“I had to bring you back.”
“But… But the diamond?”
“I asked her to wear it.”
“Why?”
“That was the key.”
“What did you bring me back from?”
“Mr. Wish.”
“Oh Jesus! Jesus God!”
“It’s all right, Hero,” Ildefonsa said soothingly. She ran her hands under the toga. “Everything’s all right now. You’re back. I’m back. We’re both back where we started. Come on, stud.” She coaxed him toward the bedroom.
Shima looked into her face. Her eyes were melting. He looked at Gretchen. Her eyes were steady. He looked from one to the other again, then turned Ildefonsa gently and started her toward the bedroom. He seemed to be following but it was only to step out of the toga which he draped around her shoulders. “Farewells should be forever,” he said.
Ildefonsa turned in astonishment. Shima crossed to Gretchen. “What now?” he asked.
“Thanks for the coronation.”
“It was no contest.”
“It was for me.”
“What now?” he repeated.
“Now? Your lab for a Pm trip. We’ve got to visit the Phasmaworld.” She called over his shoulder to the amazed Ildefonsa. “Your count was short, Nellie. With me you have to watch out for a third intention. You can keep the diamond.”
13
“Maybe for a scientist, but not for me. Blaise, I’m terrified. I’m seeing the craziest things.”
“I thought for a second—but not really. You?”
“I doubt it, Gretchen. I don’t think we’re using words.”
“Lost my courage. I’m in a panic.”
“Don’t frighten me, Blaise.
I’m scared enough as it is.”
“I think my sense-memory
is letting go. Yours?”
“I don’t know.”
“Still seeing color?”
“No.”
“Receiving any images?”
“No.”
“Good. Now if the P-M trip
lasts, we may be able to sense
the Phasmaworld as it really is.”
“BLAISE! BLAISE! THE GOLEM
!”
14
Subadar Ind’dni entered Interrogation Room One. It was warm and dark. Dr. Blaise Shima glowed faintly in the soft plastic womb, narcotized, naked, curled in the fetal position. There was soothing music incorporating a gentle heartbeat. The examining officers were not shouting questions at him; rather, their maternal voices came quietly out of the dark, blending with the comfort.
“We love you, baby.”
“The whole world loves you.”
“You’re nice and warm and safe.”
“So you can tell us.”
“You can tell mommie.”
“What have you got against the Intra National Cartel Association?”
“And why were you looking for a virgin?”
“What girl would admit it anyway?”
“Tell us.”
“Tell mommie.”
“Where did you get the firecrackers?”
“Did you make them yourself?”
“Tell us, baby.”
“That kite fight must have been fun.”
“Did you talk to those people?”