“That’s right. It wouldn’t. But don’t get the wrong idea. I’m committed not to act. I may be sitting here next to your naked body, but because of my convictions I can’t make a move.”
“You don’t have to,” she assured him. “Just relax and reflect like your Swami would tell you to.” Gloria’s hand slid under the waistband of his trousers. “I’ll do all the moving that’s necessary,” she panted as the tips of her fingers encountered their target sooner than she’d expected.
“Non-action!” Frank closed his eyes and repeated the phrase to himself like a litany. “Non-action! Non-action! Non-action!”
“Non-action! Non-action! Non-action!” Gloria picked up the rhythm of the words, repeating them in time to her caress. Her lips found Frank’s and burned a path for the fusing of their tongues. She clawed at his belly until she had his pants down around his knees, and then flung herself over him.
“Non-action! Non-action! Non-action!” The cadence imposed itself on Frank’s hips thrusting up to meet the pulsating tunnel of her womanhood.
Alas, he was detoured before he could enter it. The clanging of the telephone bell derailed the charging locomotive of his passion. Automatically, he turned over on his stomach to answer the phone which was on the end-table. Hair in wild disarray, Gloria perched atop his bared buttocks like some flame-topped Valkyrie who has conquered her opponent and can now afford to wait to claim the spoils of victory. The pressure of her weight made Frank grunt as he juggled the receiver and finally got the mouthpiece lined up with his lips.
“Oof! . . . Hello?”
“Hi, Frank?”
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
“We met at the gates of Paris and I being the better man quickly overcame my adversary. I went to a nearby inn and told a man I killed a man.”
“Huh?”
“We met at the gates of Paris and I being the better man quickly overcame my adversary. I went to a nearby inn and told a man I killed a man.”
“Oh.” Frank considered it. Then—“Hello, Fig,” he said. . .
“Fra-a-a-ank! Don’t tell me you forgot!”
“Forgot what?”
“We met at the gates of Paris and I being the better man quickly overcame my adversary. I went to a nearby inn and told a man I killed a man.”
“Oh, all right,” Frank sighed. “What! You killed a man?”
Atop Frank’s backside the Valkyrie gasped and momentarily forgot her passion.
“Yes! I killed a man!”
“And what was this man’s name?”
“Zanzibar!”
“Not Zanzibar!”
“Yes, Zanzibar!”
“How do you spell Zanzibar?”
“Z-a-n-z-i-b-a-r.”
“Not Z-a-n-z-i-b-a-r!”
“Yes, Z-a-n-z-i-b-a-r!”
“Sir! You’ve killed my brother! I shall meet you at the gates of Paris in the morning.”
“So we met at the gates of Paris and I being the better man—”
“Fig! Enough already!” Frank protested. “What did you want? You caught me at sort of a bad time.”
“Bad time!” Indignation made Gloria pinch Frank harder than she’d intended.
“Ouch!” Frank reacted. “You could kill a man!” he said indignantly.
“And what was this man’s name?” The response over the phone was instantaneous.
“Damn it, Fig! “I will not go through that nonsense again!”
“Oh, all right.” “Fig’s” voice seemed to be coming through a nose that was slightly out of joint. “It still breaks me up though. Brother! The things we used to come up with at the old Kappa Rho house! And the stunts we pulled! Hey, remember the time we--”
“Yeah!” Frank broke in quickly. “I remember. I remember it all. Hell, why shouldn’t I. It was only eight years ago. I think about it constantly. Oof!” Frank reacted as Gloria impatiently shifted her weight.
“Best years of our lives.” The receiver in Frank’s ear grew sticky with the syrup of nostalgia. “The old clock tower, those ivy-covered walls, that old frat-house spirit …"
“Bull!” Frank poured acid on the sap.
“Yeah. The late-night bull sessions with the fellows . . .”
“I mean the way you remember it is bull. You, of all people, Fig. Don’t you remember the snobbery? How you were almost blackballed from pledging the frat when they found out your father had voted for Stevenson?”
“But I wasn’t blackballed. They were tolerant. And considerate too. It was never even mentioned again. I belonged. And in my heart I always will. Go ahead and be cynical if you want, Frank. Underneath you know that old school ties are the best.”
“Caveat emptor.” Frank gave up.
“Huh?”
“Skip it. Look, Fig, you didn’t call up to wallow in sophomore memories, did you?”
“No. I’ve got a problem, old buddy. I need your help. Your professional help.”
“Gee, I don’t know, Fig. You see, I’ve sort of evolved a new philosophy about my work. I don’t just take any case that comes my way any more. I know it may sound corny to you, but I weigh the ethics very carefully before I let myself become involved.”
“Now look, Frank, as one Kappa Rho to another-—”
“Umpf! You’re crushing my groin!”
“That’s a helluva—!”
“Not you, Fig. I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Oh. Well look, Frank, let me put it this way. You can do a frat brother a favor and still stay on the sunny side of whatever ethical standards you’re following when you’re not busy dragging some innocent chick or other between the percales. This Professor who runs the project I work on is in a mess, but so help me he’s innocent. Just see him for yourself and you’ll know I’m telling the truth.”
“Where is he?”
“At the moment he’s in the Drake Street jail waiting for night court to begin.”
“What’s the charge against him?”
“I’m not sure. He was very upset and confused when he called me. Something to do with being in a cat-house when it was raided.”
“Illicit copulation, aiding and abetting a public nuisance, Section 342A of the State Criminal Code,” Frank mused. “What makes you so sure he’s not guilty?”
“For one thing, he’s around seventy years old.”
“That may raise the question of the extent to which he was able to aid and abet. Outside of that it proves nothing.”
“All right. But he’s a dedicated scientist and I’m sure he was there for scientific reasons. He’s the soul of dignity, believe me. Please, Frank. You’ve got to help him. Honestly, by helping him, in a way you’ll be helping humanity.”
“Alternativism!” Frank snapped his fingers.
“What? What’s that?”
“When an action is committed and an unknown factor perverts the result, that is what we call evil. But-— But! When that unknown factor is activated early enough to prevent the result, to abort the insufficiently considered action, that’s alternativism! According to Swami Rhee Va, it’s a beneficent protective agent.”
“Swanee-—what’s Stephen Foster got to do with it?” “Fig” was confused.
“Nothing. It’s all right, Fig. Don’t worry. I’m going to help your friend. I’ll get down to the jail right away. And thanks. You’ve provided me with the alternativism to keep me from going through with an unthought-out action. What’s this Professor’s name?”
“Fig” told him, thanked him, and hung up. As Frank also put down the telephone, Gloria dropped the magazine she’d been leafing through and bounced up and down on his buttocks. “Hey, remember me?” she crooned.
“Sorry. There’s been a displacement.” Frank heaved upwards and she tumbled to the floor. "
“I’ll say there has!” She’d landed hard on her derriere, and now she rubbed a bruise there.
“I mean our proposed neutral action has been displaced by a positive action. I have to leave right away.”