"There's hell to pay back here," Nelson told him. "Vice-President Ellers on our Board hates the SS and the sexed-up robots. He's the old guy who thinks A-C should stick to its old operation of producing electronics for mind movies and house maintenance computers. We didn't catch on that he's been sabotaging our work with the Board until the axe fell. He's had spies in your lab and Nancy's. He got the agreement of half the Board to seize and impound all the sex robots and your suits. Naturally, the group on our side is screaming."
"Sounds like a real mess, Nelson. What do I have to do."
"For one thing, get back here as soon as you can. For another, leave all the suits you have in safe hands out there. This guy is a real fanatic and he's got loyal spies everywhere. I'm afraid he'll grab that stuff too if you bring it back. I've protested Ellers has too much power."
"Sounds grissly. How can we strike back?"
"It'll come down to a final test with a Product Psychology team, the Rands."
Cord had heard about the famous couple… Montgomery Rand and his wife. They consulted for the nation's largest firms, deciding on the impact of a new product on the public from a moral and economic standpoint. They were ruggedly conservative. All the way through the projects, Nelson had feared that they might be brought in. He tried to suggest other Product Psychologists. Apparently, Ellers had won that one.
"At least we're playing in the big leagues," said Cord. "I didn't think A-C would spend the money, or think itself big enough to hire the Rands."
"They weren't, until Ellers made his play. Now, it's the only way out. The Rands are giants. If they decide for us we can beat Ellers. If they decide against us…"
"There's almost no chance they'll decide for us, Nelson. Look what they did in the DuPont case. Also…"
"Just the same it's our only chance. I want you back here as soon as possible, so we can develop a strategy."
"Tomorrow, Nelson. I've got a final test tonight."
Wearing his SS downstairs on the way to the party, Cord felt the weight of the crises ahead. It was tough enough running these field tests, but to have somebody back home in your own company tearing you down, that was outrageous. The only comfort in the situation was that Nancy Lyons and her dumb robots were in the same boat as he was. Yet his resolve was firm. The SS was a brilliant invention and would… must… win out in the end!
Cord ran into Andy Lang in the hall before he reached the party room on the mezzanine.
"Guess what! A friend of mine is getting married. He is having a wedding reception in the public room next to ours." Andy's eyes glittered.
"Oh, no. oh no!" said Cord. "We don't want any of our SS men mingling with a BRIDAL party."
"I just thought… for kicks…"
"What has happend to you, old friend? Since that day with Erica you've gotten a little wild. Going around all the time wearing that suit and walking past nubile females, giving them the wink."
"Shhh. My wife's here tonight. No, I just thought it would be fun to have our suitmen take a walk in the wedding reception room, just as an added feature."
"No way!" said Cord, firmly. "We're running all the risk I want to take."
The wedding reception, next door, contained about the same number of people as Cord's party. He caught a glimpse of a white cake, a bride in satin and Champaign glasses. He pushed Andy on into the SS party and carefully closed the big double doors. He forgot all about the wedding group as he went through the explanations and demonstrations, nonsexual, of the suits to his assembled crowd. Then, the party broke up for a buffet table and serious drinking. For Cord, this was the real test, since half a dozen men circulated in the crowd wearing the suits turned on. So far there'd been no incidents, but with inhibitions released by good drinks and good companionship, it would be interesting. The people had loved the novelty of his suits in his demonstration and everybody was in a good mood.
Cord stood by the door, watching the crowd. He had his own suit turned on, because it seemed only fair to him to be in the thick of it. Andy, on the other hand, had diplomatically not worn a suit that night, since his wife was with him.
Andy came up and said. "That wedding group next door…"
"No way," said Cord.
"Listen," said Andy, stung, "I just want you to go in and meet Old Wilbur. He's given a lot of business to A-C, and I've told him enough about the suits that he wants to meet you."
"On his wedding day?"
"Old Wilbur keeps his eye on the ball at all times. I thought we might even slip him a suit for his honeymoon."
Cord thought a minute and decided against that. It didn't seem to fit a wedding night. But he finally agreed to step next door and meet "Old Wilber".
The wedding party was just about as oiled up as his own group. It was a typical reception with old and young, handsome and ugly, well dressed and poorly dressed. Old Wilbur turned out to be a man in his forties with a close-cropped hair cut and steely eyes. He seemed to be surviving the emotional excitement of his wedding reception with remarkable stoicism. Cord decided he was either squiffed or bored by the party.
When Cord met the bride, he guessed that Wilbur really had his mind on the wedding night to come. She was only about nineteen or twenty, and a real dish, decked out in her white satin. Cord was astonished, because the girl looked more like Wilbur's daughter than his bride. Wilber had to be over forty.
"A-C is a dumb company," said Wilbur. "Too much quality. People don't want quality. They want big panels of flashing lights and lots of knobs and dials in electronic equipment. Always have, always will."
"We've done pretty well," Cord protested.
"Andy told me about your new suits. Sounds like a dumb idea. Nobody I know would want to go around in a plastic suit."
"We think there might be a small market," said Cord, swallowing his anger. After all, it was the man's wedding day. Andy looked embarrassed.
"Shall we cut the cake?" asked a female voice.
It was the new bride, taking hold of her groom's arm. Cord was introduced and said the proper things. The new Mrs. Watson was a dazzling beauty with platinum hair, large green eyes and a breathtaking figure, especially in her white satin gown. Usually, brides didn't look particularly sexy to Cord, but this one did. The satin folded and flowed over high, young breasts, a trim, firm figure, a flat little belly and a magnificent, ripe rear. She had a soft smile and a pleasant personality. Once again, Cord marveled at how people seemed so mismatched in marriages. Wilbur went with a hatchet-faced, stern and plain wife with perhaps beady eyes, he thought. Instead he was tied to this delightful and sexy young girl.
Cord chatted a few moments, anxious to break away. He saw no point in hearing any more of Wilbur's blunt, negative comments.
Then it became essential. Sheila Watson, the young bride, began to turn on his Smart Suit.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sheila, the young bride, clung to his arm and took Cord around the room, introducing him to everybody. From the sparkle in her eye, the blush on her cheek and the tight way she clutched his arm, Cord feared that she was more in the mode of the wild Marsha than the careful Erica. My God, it would be pure diaster if the poor, unsuspecting girl had an orgasm right in the middle of her wedding reception, not knowing what it was that turned her on.
The suit turned her on, but Cord couldn't very well reach inside his clothes and turn off the broadcast unit without making an obscene spectacle of himself before dozens of people. Wilbur Watson, an important wholesaler of A-C products, would probably drop the whole A-C line, and Andy had told him the man controlled the whole Northwest territory.
Three times he tried to make his escape but each time she clung to his arm tighter. Her warm thigh brushed his over and over and he hated to think of the hot chaos that must be going on under that bridal satin in the region of her lower abdomen.