“Good morning, Mr. McDrew,” Mrs. Mortlake, that happily married and humanely fanatic school nurse called out, almost bumping into him. She was on her way to
Pretty Maids All in a Row 161 work. And Tiger wondered, as ever, benignly of course, just what work? True, she was only part-time, but it cost a pretty penny anyhow. He made a mental note, while admiring her, warmly, to thoroughly explore that situation, that position, that job description, as soon as he got the chance. He wouldn’t be able to do much in the way of acting on it until he had taken over, of course, the reins fully in his hands, more or less, but of course. But it was best to prepare. Get ready. Of course. She wasn’t on his list. He had explored that situation some time ago with a view toward a slot, but had concluded, for the time, that it wasn’t the time. In this matter, that was the most crucial, indeed the most difficult and challenging judgment to make —it took the greatest talent and insight to make. The wrong judgment, he knew, could lead to disaster, only, he knew. How well he knew. He mused. No, not yet, at any rate—
“How’s my favorite nurse?”
She smiled at him, clinically warm. He wondered how things went with her has band. Pretty good, no doubt. He was an Insurance man. Tiger was all for Insurance men, their social function was high. She had a pair of thighs. He could almost see those glistening white thighs. Would he? He wondered. Within, he sighed.
“Very well, thank you, Mr. McDrew,” she said to him, a perfect set of teeth staring him in the eyes. He stared at her. Was it time, he mused, to reexamine the judgment he’d made? He wondered. He thought of those thighs.
“Well, don’t w'ork too hard,” he offered her, a tentatively exploring shot. Tiger thought. Certainly, her treasures were jumbo size grapefruit at least, and ten times as soft. Tiger watched thoughtfully. Her white uniform fitted so well. Crisp, white. She smelled cleaner than white. For him, she was a virgin in white.
“I’ll try not to!” she smiled, and continued to smile, taking off.
He Smiled.
He entered his office.
Captain Surcher began interviewing the Negro students as soon as Assembly ended. He was told they were all present and accounted for, and that was good. Very good. One of them, Mona Drake, was in the Guidance/Counseling office for a testing session this morning, he was told. He said she could stay there, he would see her last on the list. Though he knew, of course, it didn't matter. Certainly, it wasn’t she he was after.
The interviews proceeded smoothly, simply. He and his assistants asked each of them a few preliminary, innocently routine questions, such as their names, and grade, and home address, and occupation of their parents, writing it all down, carefully, and then, with regard to the boys, took their fingerprints, casually. So casually they hardly knew it had happened. After that, one simple question was asked of them—
“Who’s 'Kid'?"
“What?”
“Do vou have a friend nicknamed *Kid’?”
“Here?”
“Here, anywhere—”
“Let me think.”
“Sure, think. Don’t worry about it.”
“That's Jim—”
“Who?”
“Jim Green.”
Five of them said.
Tiger, entering, saw the attractive brown girl. He grew warm, and he was aware, for just a fraction of a second, or two, of that odd snatch of nursery rhyme, in his head, once more. It disappeared, as he spoke.
“Well, Mona, how are you this morning?”
She looked at him. She looked good.
“O.K., Mr. McDrew, thank you.”
He grinned, “That’s fine.”
She looked great.
He sat down behind his desk, looking at her, that warm grin on his face. She smiled at him.
“Nervous?" he said.
“Yes,” she said.
“Don’t be," he said, “It’s not that bad.”
“I hope I pass it,” she said.
“Well, I know you will,” he said, “Anyway, it’s not really a matter of passing—this test.” Tiger sat back, observing her, warmly. She certainly was a lovely young nubile maid. “We’re just going to see something, a little something, of what you’re all about, and what sort of a career you might profile into—fit into—as a result of us, together, here, finding out this little bit about what you’re about.” He paused. “See what I mean?”
She seemed fogged, lost in thought. Fraught with thought. Tiger mused. The colored races certainly have the most physically handsome specimens in them, without a doubt, Tiger thought, particularly when mixed with white. The intermingling of races, which he was all in favor of, produced the most wonderful results, time after time. What pure beauty the human race would be if all the races freely crossed! It was the only answer to the problem of course and would have to be adopted sooner or later, as a matter of course. It was a question of time, he knew. As everything was—
“I—think I do,” she said, sweetly, relaxing, just a little bit. She liked him, he knew. It was part of the road.
“Well, where shall we start?” Tiger asked. And paused.
“I don't know,” the girl replied, after a pause.
Tiger reached for a folder, opened it, and glanced here and there, through it.
“Hmmmm?” He now said, humming it out.
“Isn’t there a place to start?” She asked, somewhat perplexed, and possibly a bit distressed. Tiger noted her breasts. Under her dress. A very pretty little dress.
“That all depends on you,” Tiger grinned, aware of growing rapport.
She shrugged, and, if Tiger thought he could really tell, flushed a little, and smiled, “What do you want to know?” Tiger, warm, supremely poised yet relaxed in his chair, was well aware. He cast caressing glances on her, positively sure he could tell.