“Scrap it! Believe me, I know!”
“But how could you know?” The Professor asked logically.
“Never mind. I know, I tell you. I know! I know! I know!” “Fig’s” voice rose hysterically.
“There, there. Calm yourself. You’ve been working too hard Mr. Newton. You need some rest.”
“You’re right.” “Fig” got hold of himself.
“Take the rest of the day off. Go home. Get some sleep.”
“Okay. I will.”
But when “Fig” woke up in the early evening, the problem still weighed heavily on him. If the entire female body was an erogenous zone, then it must be broken down into specific areas to measure the effects of stimulation during pre-coital activity. But how?
It was only after Gloria arrived later that night that the glimmering of an answer began to come to “Fig.” He was watching her apply her lipstick when the inspiration came.
“Eureka!” He snapped his fingers.
“Are you all right?” She looked at him anxiously. .
“Fine-fine-fine!” He grabbed the lipstick out of her hand. “Take off your dress!” he commanded.
“I thought we were going out.”
“I changed my mind. Go on. Take off your dress.”
“Oh, darling, you’re such an impulsive little boy sometimes,” the redhead murmured.
“Now your slip. Hurry up!”
“My! You are impatient.”
“Good. Now lie down on your back.”
“Ooh! I love it when you’re like this. So masterful! Like a caveman.” Gloria stretched out on the couch.
“Fig” knelt beside her, pushed her panties halfway down and drew a series of vertical lines on her midriff with the lipstick.
“Hey! That tickles!”
He ignored her and crisscrossed the vertical lines with several horizontal lines so that a series of boxes was formed. Then he leaned back, rocked on his knees and studied the area.
“What the he-—!”
“Shush!” He cut.G1oria off with a wave of his hand. “I’m thinking. Don’t distract me!”
Obediently, she was quiet. Time dragged by. Bored, Gloria picked up the lipstick from the side of the couch where “Fig” had set it down. Idly, she drew a circle in one of the boxes on her midriff. She put the lipstick down. Abstractedly, “Fig” picked it up. He was still concentrating intently on the problem. Unthinkingly, he drew an X in a box adjacent to the one in which Gloria had inscribed a circle.
Gloria took the lipstick from him, etched another circle and handed it back to him. When he’d drawn another X, she took it from him again. The exchange was repeated a few times. Then Gloria drew one final circle and clapped her hands triumphantly. “I win!” she crowed.
“Shut up!” “Fig” stared at the scarlet tick-tack-toe on her belly. “That’s it!” he exclaimed. “Don’t say anything! I think I’m getting it! Yeah! I’ve got it! I’ve got it!”
“Got what?” Gloria wanted to know. “Will you please tell me--”
“Super-imposed radar patterns with a crisscross scanner!” “Fig” was jubilant.
“Will you please explain-—-”
“Fig” explained.
He repeated the explanation to Professor Woocheck the following morning. “The body is divided up into small squares,” he told the Professor. “A different radar pattern is imposed on each square. The screen is crisscrossed and whenever there’s an erotic reaction in any of the zones, a little green blip will pinpoint it. The blip will expand and contract according to the intensity of the reaction. We can photograph the screen and study the erotic waves at our leisure. If there’s any pattern to the erogenous zones, we’ll be able to pinpoint it and measure its significance. And the best part is that the initial crisscrossing of the female body can be done with invisible radar waves from about four projectors. The subject won’t even be aware of them!”
Jubilation had “Fig” shouting now. His voice carried down the hall to the interview room where Mercy was sitting across the table from a very young prostitute named Lana. Mercy frowned and got up and closed the door, shutting off the sound of “Fig’s” voice.
“You were telling me how you happened to get started in your profession,” she prompted Lana as she returned to her seat.
“Yes, ma’am. Well, after the bank foreclosed, there wasn’t anything Daddy could do but take us to the city and move in with my uncle and aunt.”
“How old were you then?”
“Eleven, ma’am. I remember ’cause I just became a woman, if you know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean. Go on.”
“Well, Daddy’s leprosy got worse around then and it was right clear he wasn’t going to last long. He couldn’t work, and my uncle was talking how he was going to put us out, so there wasn’t nothing to do but for Maw to go out to work.”
“What sort of work did your mother do?”
“She got took on as a scrublady. It didn’t pay much, but it was nights and that left her free to clean the house in the daytime. That was the only reason my aunt agreed to let us stay there, her cleaning the house.”
“How awful for your mother,” Mercy clucked. “The poor woman.”
“Yeah. She worked like a dog all right. Anyway, Daddy died and right after that things really got bad. For me, anyway.”
“Bad how?”
“Well, I was developing real good and early, you know. And my uncle, he took notice. One night just a few days after Daddy’s funeral, with Maw out working, and my aunt I don’t know where, he cornered me in the cellar and busted me.”
“You mean he raped you?”
“Yeah. And that wasn’t the only time either. He used to grab me once, twice a week, just pull up my skirt and do it with my clothes on, you know. Rough too. He hurt me. It went on like that for about a year.”
“Why didn’t you tell your mother?”
“I figured she had enough troubles. She was mighty poorly and I could tell she was on her way out just like Daddy. The night she was lying there dying, my uncle, he made me do it with my mouth—you know—-down the cellar.”
“That’s disgusting! That’s awful! You poor child!” Mercy’s professional composure vanished in an outpouring off sympathy. Finally she fought back her tears, blew her nose and nodded for Lana to continue.
“Well, soon as Maw was gone, I figured there was no percentage hanging around and giving it away to my uncle and cleaning their house for them. I mean, all my aunt wanted was a maid, and all my uncle wanted was to keep busting me. So I just took off. Only thing I felt bad about was Bobby.”
“Bobby?”
“My kid brother. I’ll tell you about him in a little. Anyway, I just left with the clothes on my back, nothing else.”
“Where did you go?”
“The street. Where else?”
“What did you do? How did you live?”
“I picked up men. Charged them half a buck, plus they had to pay for the room. If I was lucky, they’d just do it once and leave. That way I’d have a room to sleep in for the night. What a jerk I was! I was practic’ly giving it away. Not only that, but I was taking an awful chance, too.”
“What kind of a chance?”
“Undercutting all the other girls on the street that way. I’m lucky they didn’t cut me up and put me out of commission. Or when they complained to the Syndicate; I’m lucky the bosses didn’t just have me dropped in the river.”
“What did happen?”
“Oh, they were real nice about it. A fella came around and explained the economics of the situation to me. He let me know how the Syndicate couldn’t afford to have freelancers coming around and price-cutting and how the next time I did it, the cops would pick me up and put me away for a long time. I saw his point all right. And I was damn glad to say yes when he asked me if I’d like to work for them. The very next night I moved into a house.”