Civilized sex was just never quite as good.
"… of course," Mrs. Haver said, in her drippy monotone chant, "I do love the wilds, ever so much. But I prefer to take my nature in books, you see, I really do. I'm just not cut out for such a harsh, unfriendly and lonely existence."
Had the woman been talking the whole time she had been daydreaming? Impossible. But it seemed that she had. No one was paying much attention to her by this time.
Blair looked at her father, who was sipping the last of his glass of brandy. Such a strong, firm, no-nonsense type of man. Maybe she would grow up to be like him some day. She only hoped she could be half the zoologist he was.
"Lonely?" she heard her father say to Mrs. Haver in his deep, booming baritone voice, "perhaps, but there is a kind of quiet beauty to loneliness… if it's self-imposed of course. I find it a refreshing change from all this."
Dr. Fortner waved his hand around the room, and he smiled at his daughter lovingly.
"Me, too," Blair said, smiling back at him.
It was nice to share a little joke with this man once in a while, though he didn't often joke around.
Yes, it would be lonely in that forbidden jungle, Blair thought, but safe, too. Tucked quietly away from all the pomp and ceremony.
CHAPTER TWO
"I'll get that," Dr. Fortner called to his daughter from the living room.
They hadn't been home more than a half hour, and the doorbell was jangling already. The man had to admit that he, too, would welcome a little jungle solitude for a change.
"Hi, Dr. F.," Cathy's chipper little voice called in to him from the front steps. The man stood back and let the exuberant girl and the young man accompanying her come into the room. He stared at the young man a moment, waiting to be introduced.
"Uh, Dr. Fortner," Cathy said, remembering her manners at last, "this is Harold Rhymer. Harold, this is Blair's father."
"I think you'd better have a seat in the living room," the dapper grey-haired man said, "the rest of the rooms are filled with packing crates."
"Thanks," Cathy said, ushering her date into the front room.
Blair came tripping down the steps calling to her father, "Is that Cathy?"
"Yes, dear," her father shouted back, "and the young man accompanying her."
Blair's feet hit the bottom of the steps and she stared a moment. This was Cathy's date? He wasn't at all what she had expected. She thought somebody bookish, pale, and drawn… like Owen Divers, maybe.
But this guy was a gorgeous hunk of beefy manhood. Tall and stately, but extremely well-developed muscularly.
And he had a beard. What was it about men with beards that automatically rated them an extra three points in her book? And this wasn't just a little skimpy Van Dyke, this was a full-blown beard.
Luscious, full, and hairy. Just the way she liked them.
But she shouldn't be standing here drooling over him mentally, after all, he was Cathy's date.
"How do you do?" Harold Rhymer said, standing up tall and erect and staring her in the eyes. He gets another two points just for looking me in the eye, Blair thought to herself as she joined them on the sofa.
"How was the dinner?" Cathy said, eagerly smiling over at her friend.
"A little like a wake, only there was less to drink," Blair said back. "I guess I shouldn't be saying such things in front of my father, though. Sorry, Dad."
"Oh, that's quite all right," the steely-eyed, sober man said back to her, "I get a little tired of that university crowd myself once in a while. Won't be seeing much of them for the next six months, though."
"Six months?" Harold said.
In spite of herself, Blair found herself bristling at the sound of his voice. It was dark and deep and heavy. Irresistible. Like molasses pouring out of a long spout.
Blair blinked her eyes hard and tried to snap herself out of these daydreams she was having lately. Probably had something to do with not getting laid in the last eight weeks.
"Blair and Dr. Fortner are going to Africa tomorrow," Cathy said, "that's why I wanted to come over… just to say good-bye to them."
"Business or pleasure?" the young man asked, leaning back in the chair and looking at the fascinating souvenirs of a life lived in the exotic and far-flung outposts of the world.
Ivory, wood-carved statues and stone urns and pottery pieces cluttered the room. Thick, blonde straw mats and animal skin rugs lay on the floor. Spears and hunting blow-guns lined the walls. It almost looked like the African room at the museum.
"Business, but it's my pleasure, too," the grey-haired Dr. Fortner answered.
"Dr. Fortner researches Greater Primates," Cathy said, "he's also written a lot of books about man's relationship to apes. Did you read Man and Ape Man? That was his."
"I sure did," the thick-voiced, dark-haired man said, "great book."
"Thank you," Dr. Fortner said, "I'm happy about that one. Gave me a chance to interest the public in our distant cousins, the apes."
"Fascinating subject," Harold said, nodding his head as if in agreement with himself. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Fortner."
"Thank you," the man said, standing up and shaking the ashes out of his pipe into the fireplace, "but I'm afraid the meeting will have to be short-lived. I have some papers to go over before I travel tomorrow. Blair, you stay here with your friends. No need you running off to bed, just because I have work to do."
"Night, Dad," Blair said, rising to her feet and kissing the man on the cheek.
"Goodnight, dear," he said, embracing her. He stepped to the sofa and reached out to take Cathy's hand, "Goodnight and farewell, Cathy. You have our address, I trust."
"Very good," Cathy said, bowing to his humor, "but I can write you in care of the university, can't I?"
"Yes," Blair said, "every day if you like. But we don't usually get the mail except once every two months, so I may be getting quite a stack from you when it finally does get to me."
Dr. Fortner took his leave and the three sat in the living room chatting about things in common.
Blair discovered that Harold was indeed a scientist, too, like her father. Only he was in graduate school, studying Anthropology.
"We have a lot in common," he found himself saying to the blonde girl after several minutes.
"How so?" she said, "you study humans and Dad and I study animals. That makes us only distantly related."
"Don't turn up your nose, Blair," Cathy said, "Humans deserve to be studied, too. I myself like to study them. Especially in shopping malls."
"Interesting," Harold said, reaching in his back pocket for a cigarette.
When he did, Blair noticed a rich, lush growth on his chest, just below his collarbone. What was it about men with hairy chests? She loved men with hairy chest. How come Cathy got so lucky all of a sudden? She had been looking for some piece of beef like this Rhymer guy for some time and nothing so far.
Then, on the night before the night she has to sail away, her best friend waltzes in the door with this! Nice work, Cathy.
"I find personally that humans in some situations behave more like animals," the young man continued.
"I wouldn't put animals down like that," Cathy said.
"She's right, you know, Harold," Blair said, "You defame animals by comparing them to humans."
"Didn't know I'd find myself in the company of two beautiful animal lovers tonight," he said, lighting his cigarette with the lighter on the teak wood table in front of him.
"So what's wrong with animals?" Blair found herself snapping defensively.
"Nothing at all," Harold replied, "they're fine in their place. But they are, you must admit, somewhat limited."