As the doctor had before, Pan Satyrus asked, "Well, then?"
"It's fun to talk with tarts, get drunk with them, kid them along. You'll see."
"I don't want to hurt anybody's feelings. I'm not human, you know."
"Ouch," Dr. Bedoian said. "Stop thinking about General Maguire and relax. I think our guests are here."
They were, indeed. From the sample room came twitterings and giggles, and thumps as a crew of men delivered a case of gin, two of beer and a big chunk of ice in a bucket.
"Come on," Dr. Bedoian said.
Pan Satyrus sighed and followed his physician to the rendezvous with destiny.
There were four of the girls, in various states of girlishness — from a long twenty-five to a short forty. Their hair was universally blonde, and three of them — Dotty, Flo and Millie — wore shorts. Belle had on tailored black slacks, which did little to hide a state of bowleggedness seldom seen in these days of cod-liver oil for the masses.
Dotty and Flo were sitting on Ape's lap; Millie was on Happy Bronstein's and Belle, not to be left out, was leaning on the back of Happy's chair, exploring the area between his shoulderblades with friendly fingers.
She abandoned her anatomic research when Pan and Dr. Bedoian entered, and cried, "Oooh, the skinny one's cute." The skinny one, obviously, was Dr. Bedoian; she skittered forward, patted his cheek and told him he looked like Frank Sinatra.
Ape stood up, a girl under each arm, and announced names. Then he set Flo on her feet, and said, Fan, have an armful of real woman."
Flo said, "I go for you, Shorty," and proceeded to cross to him. "Golly you got muscles," she said. She poked at them. "Hey, you haven't got any shirt on."
She retreated. "I don't like that, for the fellows not to be all dressed when a party is just starting. It isn't gentlemanly."
Happy Bronstein said, "Excuse me," to Millie and placed her on the floor beside his chair. He came over and put an arm around Flo's shoulders. "Pan took his shirt off because he's tired. He went around the world today, out in space."
Flo looked at him suspiciously. "You mean like John Glenn?"
"No," Pan said, "I went the other way. From east to west."
"You got a real nice voice," she said. "I bet you're a college man. I go for college men." Then her eyes got hard again. "I don't believe it. I know you sailors."
"Ask the doc over there," Happy said.
Flo turned slowly to Dr. Bedoian, who was chipping ice vigorously. "You a doctor?"
"Yes, madam. I hope you don't have need of my professional services."
"Did this guy really go out into space today?"
"He certainly did," Dr. Bedoian said.
"Then what's he doing in a dump like Floridaville?"
"Rest and recuperation," Dr. Bedoian said. "Who knows? By tomorrow the President may want to see him. Congress may want him to address a joint session. He needs time off, first."
"You don't talk like a sailor," Flo said, "but you're out with a couple of them."
Dr. Bedoian said, "I'll prove it to you." He looked around the room. The Floridaville House management had provided the sample room with built-in steel racks for the display of dresses, cloaks and suits. He said, "He's had astronaut training. If he wanted to, he could hang from that rack by one finger."
"Aw," Flo countered.
"For God, for country and for the honor of the enlisted men of the U.S. Navy, Pan," Dr. Bedoian said.
Pan Satyrus sighed and shuffled over to the dress rack. It was a little high for him, so he jumped, hooked the index finger of his left hand over the bar, and hung.
Flo said, "Gawsh."
"I ask you," Dr. Bedoian asked her, "could anyone who hadn't had astronaut training do that?"
Ape picked up Dotty and carried her into the bedroom.
Pan dropped to the floor and went over to the case of gin. It was a case of pints, twenty-four of them. He ripped the top off one and tilted it. Then he remembered his manners, and handed the remaining third of a pint to Flo.
"You like to drink, don't you?" she said.
"Only during my periods of rest and recuperation." Pan smiled. 'I'll get you some ice for that, and a glass. I can see you're not the kind to drink out of bottles."
Dr. Bedoian said, "Oh, well played, scion of a noble race."
Pan went and got his girl a glass full of ice.
It was a good party. They got a radio from the desk, and turned it on full blast. When the local police chief arrived, they fed him a pint of gin and carried him to a vacant room down the hall.
Happy danced, in his skivvies, a dance he said he had learned in Buenos Aires. Ape chanted a ballad which he said was a great favorite in Dakar, about twenty years ago.
Ape went into the bedroom with Dotty again and then turned her over to Happy and made a trip with Belle. Thereafter he pronounced himself ready for sea duty again, but Happy, younger, honored Flo and Millie as well. If any of the girls noticed the abstinence of Pan and Dr. Bedoian, she was too ladylike to mention it.
Pan walked around the room on his hands, no great feat for him; but the girls cheered so vigorously that he went around a second time, on one hand, hopping like a pogo stick.
This made him such a great social success that he offered to go around a third time — on both hands-carrying any number of girls on his feet.
The girls wanted to spare him any extra weight, so they removed the two outer of the four garments that each of them wore.
Dr. Bedoian broke into tears because he had forgotten his camera. Happy consoled him by pointing out that the picture would have been suppressed as top secret.
"I suppose it would be," Dr. Bedoian said, cheering up slightly. He pointed to Pan, who was causing the girls to giggle by pinching them with his toes. "After all, neither of the Wright boys, or Curtiss or Lindbergh, or any of the human astronauts ever carried four girls on his feet. I could swear to it."
"Pan's a great guy to have on a party," Happy said.
The great guy had ended his first burdened tour near the gin case. Standing on one hand again, he passed pints up to the girls with the other. Then he gulped a pint for himself.
"Doc," Ape asked, "how much gin can a chimpanzee drink?"
"Shhh," Dr. Bedoian said. "None of the girls has noticed he's a chimp. I imagine when they were younger they must have worked the convention parties up the coast. Why, Ape, nobody knows. At the going rate for good laboratory animals, it is not an experiment that has ever been performed, and I am fully aware that I should have my stethoscope and sphygometer out, testing our patient at regular intervals and taking notes. But I long ago reached a conclusion — I am lecturing."
"Go on," Happy said, "a little education isn't going to ruin the U.S.N."
"The tolerance for liquor goes up as the happiness-index of a party does," Dr. Bedoian said. "That is what I have observed. In other words, if you're having a lousy time, three drinks and you're blotto. If you're enjoying yourself, you can't get too many."
"For a guy who's gone to college, you're pretty smart," Happy said.
Ape's voice went into the growl of a Master CPO. "The doc's a good guy. Lay off."
"Aye, aye, Chief."
""You, Pan," Ape said, "loan me a dame."
He was dressed in his skivvy shirt and gray pants, his black shoes. He took the beautifully shined shoes off, and placed them neatly to one side, out of the line of march. Then he flexed his back, spat on his hands and stood on them.
"You, Flo, go sit on Ape's feet," Pan said.
"Aw," Flo said, "I like the way yours tickle."
Pan was stern. "Go on, now. We're going to race."
Dr. Bedoian muttered something about Ape being somewhat more than young, but the chief was on his hands, swinging his knees back and forth, determining the correct posture for endurance and speed.
Flo had dismounted from Pan's feet, and was crossing to Ape, but she was not happy. "Us girls all come together, and we like to stay together," she said. Tears trailed down her already-smudged makeup. "I don't like leaving my friends."