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"Well, it did go on. I got up once and went to the bathroom and noticed in the mirror that I didn't have a stitch on and couldn't remember having undressed. Didn't seem to matter. I went back to bed, and found that I was feeling lonely; the party seemed to have stopped.

"Only it hadn't. A man came in and I managed to focus my eyes and said, ‘Oh, Ted! Come here'. And he did and we did, and it was worse than ever.

"I woke up about noon with a dreadful hangover. Managed to sit up and here were my clothes, neatly folded on a chair, and on the bedside table a tray with a thermos of coffee and some Danish pastry and a glass with a note by it. It read: ‘Drink this before you eat. You'll need it. Chubby.' Chubby was the one who was almost bald."

"A gentleman. Aside from his taste for mass rape."

"Chubby was always nice. But if anybody had told me that I would ever be in bed with Chubby, I would have laughed in her face."

"Were you ever again?"

"Oh, yes. I really did appreciate the thoughtful little breakfast and especially the hangover cure. It put me back together. Not good enough to go on watch but good enough to get dressed and back to my room."

"Were you all right? I mean, uh, not caught or anything?"

"Not even sore. Not anything. Wasn't my time, even if I hadn't been protected with an implant, which I was. And one nice thing about going to bed with interns, almost no chance of picking up an infection. No, I was lucky all the way, Joan. Oh, no doubt the story went the rounds, but I wasn't the only graduate getting it that night, and that wasn't the only party. Nobody teased me about it. But it was a gang bang, and I didn't make the slightest move to stop it." She added thoughtfully, "The thing that worries me is that I might do it again. I know I would. So I don't drink at all anymore. I know I can't handle it."

"Why, Winnie, you've had a drink with me, more than once."

"That's not the same thing. Uh, if you wanted me to get drunk with you—Iwould. I'd be safe." (Safe? Little does she know.) (Eunice, we haven't done more than snuggle and you know it.) (She's asking you to step up the pace.) (Well, I won't! Not much, anyhow.)

"Winnie! Winnie dear! Look at the time."

"Uh? Oh, my heavens! Ten minutes after midnight. I—"

The little redhead seemed about to cry.

"Are you late? He'll wait. Oh. I'm sure he will—for Winnie."

"Not late yet. He's off duty at midnight and it takes a while to get here. But— Oh, dear, I don't want to leave you. Not when we were—I was, anyhow—so happy."

"Me, too, darling," Joan agreed, gently, untangling herself from Winifred's arms. "But big sister is always here. Don't keep your man waiting. Check your lipstick and hair and such in my bath if there. is any chance that he may already be in your room."

"Well. All right. Miss Joan, you're good to me."

"Don't you dare call me ‘Miss' at a time like this or swelp me, I'll make you miss your date. Rush, rush, hon; go get beautiful. Kiss me good-night; I'll be asleep before you are out of the bath. And, Winsome—no exercises tomorrow."

"But—"

"Smile, I didn't break your dolly. I want to sleep late and I want you to sleep late so that I won't wake up from knowing you are fidgeting. You'll get all the classic postures you need in bed tonight. Stop blushing. Give him something special from me, only don't tell him. Or do, I don't give a darn. Kiss me quick and let me go to sleep."

Her maid-chum-nurse kissed her not too quickly and left hurriedly. Joan Eunice pretended to be asleep when Winifred walked silently from the bath through the room, on into her own room, and the door sealed behind her.

(Well, twin, you lucked through again, didn't you?) (Eunice, I've told you time and again that I am not going to stroll Gay Street while I'm a virgin. Might be habit ­forming.) (Could be, with our cuddly little pet who enjoys a gang bang. But I didn't mean her. I meant at Safe Harbor.)

(You, call that luck? I call it the most frustrating thing that ever happened to me. Eunice, I needed the Money Hum as badly as Jake did.) (I call it luck. Boss darling, I may be dead but I can still read a calendar. I was steady on twenty-eight-and-a-half days for more than ten years—and we've still been on it since we amalgamated. We're fertile as a turtle, Myrtle, this minute—and will be, for two or three days. Jake has promised you that the next time won't be frustrating... and you'll be as carefree as a cheerleader I told you about. Scan me, Fanny? So run don't walk and get that implant—about ten o'clock tomorrow morning. Unless you plan to get us benched right away. Do you?)

(Eunice, you're talking non— No, you're not. I will do something about it. Tomorrow. But ‘benched right away' is an exaggeration. I'm new at this while you've been through one pregnancy. But your aunt probably watched you like a hawk—) (She did. Elsie Dinsmore had a livelier time.) (—but I've sat through three, as a husband. ‘Benched' is just a short time, at the end. And pregnancy doesn't kill a woman's interest. My angelic first wife, Agnes, would have tried it on the way to the hospital if I hadn't had more sense about it than she had. Just the same, I'll be good. I'll be careful, rather.)

(Joan, I wasn't trying to talk you out of it. I just didn't want us knocked up by accident. Say through a playful romp with Judgie Wudgie. Or Alec. But if you want to, that's fine. Marry Jake and get pregnant at once. Or get pregnant by him and then marry him; he might be more tractable.)

(Eunice, I'm not planning on getting married in any hurry if at all.) (So? I've heard you propose to Jake at least four times.)

(Yes, yes! If Jake agreed, I would; I wouldn't let him down. But he won't, if ever, until these legal finagles are cleared up. Which might take years. Do you remember how long it took to get the courts to okay the Sky Trails stock conversions? That was clear-cut compared with this and did not involve as much money. Eunice, 1 propose to Jake for his morale; I don't care whether he makes an ‘honest woman' of me or not, I just want him to take us to bed. Marriage doesn't figure.)

(Twin, your naivete surprises me. Didn't you hear Winnie? Marriage isn't planned, it just happens. No girl is more likely to wind up in a hotel room, married to a man she didn't even know at sundown the night before, than a chick who isn't going to get married ‘any time soon.' Boss, you marry Jake. Marry him as soon as he will agree to it—for you were talking sense when you pointed out that no other man could both understand you and not be dazzled by your money. In the meantime, it's smart to go contra.)

(All right. What are the girls using today?) (Oh, most of them use implants. Some use pills, both the daily ones and the monthly ones. But if you miss with either sort, you are on a very short fuse. I never liked monkeying with my body's economy; I'm not convinced that anything that changes a woman's femaleness that much is a good idea. Not superstition, Boss, I did some careful reading alter the time I got caught. There are hazards to all chemical methods. My body worked fine the way it was; I didn't want to tamper with a successful organization—I'm quoting you, only you were talking about business.) (I see your point, Eunice, even though we're talking about monkey business. A body is far more complex than a corporation, and the one you turned over to me is a jewel; I don't want to tamper with it, either. But what did you use? Self restraint?)

(Never had any in stock, dearie. Oh, there are lots of other loving things you can do without getting pregnant—if you can shake off your early training and be twenty-first century—) (Look, infant, 1 knew about—and used—every one of those other things in high school. I keep telling you: You kids did not invent sex.) (You didn't let me finish, Boss. Those are emergency measures. A girl who depends on them alone is going to add to the population explosion. Joan, I looked into it carefully, when I turned eighteen and was licensed and settled on one of the oldest methods. A diaphragm. They are still available; any physician will fit them. I wore one six days every month, even at the office—because, as the doctor who fitted me pointed out, most diaphragm failures result from leaving them at home while you run out for a pound of sugar, be right back.)