I groaned. "No wonder I'm confused. We start with women responding to strong men and end with the immortality of the species. Well, I suppose that's what evolution is all about."
"Greg, does this have anything to do with the project you're working on?"
"Only indirectly," I said cautiously. I couldn't reveal more. "And speaking of projects, how is yours coming along?"
"I'm going to be just as secretive as you," she said. "But I will tell you it's a new perfume, and if it works the way I hope, it will revolutionize the fragrance industry."
"That sounds exciting," I said, although I didn't think it did. "What makes it so revolutionary?"
"Well, I don't want to go into details, but you know that scientists still don't understand exactly how the sense of smell works. They do know that certain scents can recall emotions and awaken memories or-and this is iffy-inspire emotions and awaken appetites. That allegedly includes sexual desire. But my new perfume, if it succeeds, takes a totally different approach. It aims at behavior modification. Greg, why are you looking at me so strangely?"
"You mean," I said, "your new perfume might work the way nitrous oxide makes people laugh and acts as an anesthetic? "
"Not precisely like that," Marleen said. "But its effects would cause people to act differently from the way they normally act."
"And this modification or change in their behavior, would it be pleasurable?"
"Oh yes." , "But could your new fragrance result in any ill effects? For instance, antisocial conduct by the women wearing it or by anyone sniffing it?"
"Good heavens, no!" Marleen said decisively. "If I thought that might happen, I'd drop the whole project immediately."
I was about to say, "I wish I could say the same," but I remained silent. Still, her forthright statement stirred up all my original doubts about the moral and ethical proprieties of what I was doing. I had no desire to create a new crop of killers and rapists. It seemed to me there were enough of that breed without encouragement from the Mcwhortle Laboratory.
"A penny for your thoughts," Marleen said. "Haven't you heard of inflation?" I asked. "Now they're worth at least a nickel."
And we both laughed. cwhortle called me from his office one morning, a Friday it was, and said he was feeling horny and would be over at noon.
That was a pain because I had an appointment to get my nails done.
Naturally I told him to come ahead, and then I phoned the beauty shop to cancel. I had a good thing going with the old man, and I wasn't about to make waves.
He showed up hot to trot and started undressing right away.
He always wore boxer shorts that almost came to his knees-real droopy drawers. One pair even had little bunnies printed on them.
I never laughed of course. I just said, "oh daddy, you look so cute!"
He told me from the beginning that his ticker was on the fritz-it speeded up sometimes-so when we had sex, I did most of the work. I always told him what a great lover he was, and he liked that. Note to wives everywhere, if your man doesn't get that bullshit at home, he'll get it somewhere else.
Afterward I brought him a cold bottle of the dark beer he liked, and got a diet cola for myself because, I had put on a few pounds recently and my tush was getting pillowy.
He had brought me a big jar of a new moisturizing creme his laboratory had developed. It had a bronzer in it so you could get a tan without going out in the sun.
"Thank you, daddy," I said. "It will be great for rainy days. How are you coming along on that crazy pill you told me about-the one that's supposed to make every soldier into Superman?"
"Coming along fine. Greg is making progress."
"Who's Greg?"
"Gregory Barrow, our top research chemist. He's handling the project.
The man is a genius."
"I've never met a genius. What's he like?"
"A mousy kind of guy but all brain. I know he's married and has a kid, but his job is his whole life. I mean he doesn't play golf or anything like that. A real workaholic. I wish I had twenty more like him."
"You think the ZAP stuff is going to be a success?"
"Well, Greg has it in liquid form now, and when he injects it into mice, it turns them into pit bulls. I don't see any reason why it shouldn't work with humans if we can get it into pill or powder form."
"Maybe the government will give you a medal."
He laughed. "If they pay their bills on time, I'll be satisfied.
Listen, Jess, I've got to get back to the office. A client's coming in who wants to talk about a new product, a suntan lotion combined with an insect repellent."
"Hey," I said, "that's a great idea. The last time I went to the beach I almost got eaten up alive by sand fleas."
"Lucky fleas," Mcwhortle said, grinning at me.
He gave me my salary check before he left. What a sweet hustle I had going.
I showered and dressed, then phoned William K. Brevoort. He wasn't in, so I left a message on his answering machine. I watched a soap opera on TV for a while, but then Willie got back to me. I told him I had something for him, and he said he could come over that evening,around nine o'clock, and I said okay.
I phoned Laura Gunther at Hashbeam's Bo-teek and asked her if she'd like to have an early dinner at a rib joint we both liked.
She said sure, and we made arrangements to meet there at six-thirty.
Laura was the only close woman friend I had made in town since I moved up from Miami. She worked at Hashbeam's, and I stopped by one day to look around and we got to talking. It turned out she had been in the game herself but had gone straight and married a real-estate broker.
That lasted all of two years and now he was divorced. She wasn't exactly hurting for bucks but had taken the job at the Bo-teek to keep from hitting the convention circuit again.
She was a wild one, a big, heavy broad who smoked long, skinny cigars and had the voice and vocabulary of a trucker. Her current boyfriend was a guy named Bobby Gurk. I think he was in the rackets in Lauderdale, but I never asked questions.
We had a great dinner at the rib joint. Laura told me about the problem she was having with Gurk. He wanted her to stay home every night in case he suddenly decided to drop by. She told him to get lost, and they were always fighting about it. , "That elephant thinks he owns me," Laura said. "He doesn't pay enough to own, he just rents."
"Why don't you dump him," I suggested. "You should be able to do better."
"I'm working on it," she said. "I met a guy out at the club the other night who thinks he's God's gift to women. Married, of course, but he's got deep pockets. I gave him a freebie. The next time he comes sniffing around I'll tell him the facts of life, no pay, no play. it Then we started talking about new summer fashions, what was in and what was out. After a while it was time for me to leave.
We split the check and made plans to go to the beach on Sunday.
I got home around eight-thirty. My six-year-old Pontiac was making funny noises, and I decided I needed new wheels. I figured I'd drop a few hints to Mcwhortle. He knew all about no pay, no play.
Willie the Weasel showed up right on time, looking as nifty as ever.
That guy sure knew how to dress. All he wanted to drink was a glass of club soda, so I brought him that.
I told Willie about Mcwhortle's visit that morning. I didn't want to give him the whole jar of the new moisturing creme with bronzer in it, so I dug out a tablespoonful and wrapped it in aluminum foil. He said that would be enough for analysis. I also told him about Mcwhortle's client who wanted the lab to develop a suntan lotion combined with an insect repellent.
"Sounds good," he said. "See if you can get me a sample when it's finished."
He took the foil-wrapped moisturizer and gave me a white envelope containing my payoff – I guess handing me bare cash just wasn't his style, it had to be in a clean white envelope.
He started to leave, then suddenly stopped. "Oh, by the way," he said casually, as if he had just remembered, "anything new on that testosterone pill?"