Lenny noted that these girls were, if anything, more attractive than the ravishing beauties she had seen working in the Phylogem Club. They were dressed in harem outfits, with scanty tops that revealed almost everything but the nipples.
The panties were made of a veil-like material that allowed one to see the fur of their pubic areas quite clearly. The long, billowing pantaloons were made of an even filmier substance that showed off the perfect flesh of each girl's long and shapely legs.
They were setting something up, but it was not immediately clear to the gorgeous Lenny what that something was.
She stood between Lyle and Boss Carl, almost hypnotized by the efficient and graceful preparations of the harem girls. She realized suddenly that their every move seemed to be part of an elaborate and beautiful dance without music. These women were extraordinarily talented!
"What are they doing?" Lenny chose to direct her question to Lyle Montagne, who seemed to be the most easy-going of the men.
He looked at her sternly and spoke as though she had broken some kind of rule. "You'll known soon enough."
There was a rumbling and rustling in the wings. Lenny saw the great scarlet curtains flowing and trembling as some large activities stirred the otherwise quiet air behind them.
Two of the harem girls emerged. They were leading the strangest and most exotic looking animal that Lenny Morgan had ever seen.
It was a giant sloth.
The strange and clumsy beast was dressed in a sailor suit, with a small cap strapped to its heavy head. Lenny had never seen such an animal before. It moved with a tremendous reluctance, as though it preferred sleep to any kind of movement whatsoever. This in fact, as any zoologist would testify, was the case. The giant sloth is the slowest and most reluctant of all creatures that trod the face of this planet. He spends far and away the majority of his time suspended upside-down from a tree-limb.
What he does in this position, few people have been able even to conjecture. Some scientists would tell us that he sleeps – but what mammal needs twenty-four hours of sleep a day?
Louie, despite his slovenly appearance, was apparently quite an expert on nature. He began to explain to the dumbfounded Lenny.
"That animal," he began in gruff, but scholarly tones, "is da most unarousable of all species. He ees da dumbest and most immovable fibing objek in all da woild. I mean it, Miss Morgan, to get that f-dding best to enjoy segsooal entorcourse ees nigh unto empossible."
Lenny, who despite her lack of education was rather a bright young woman, detected for the first time the hint of a foreign accent in Louie's voice. She realized suddenly that his lower-class accent was a put-on. Once, Lenny had known a pimp who had disguised his French accent by talking in a tough, almost unintelligible Bronx dialect. He had been so enthusiastic about becoming an American – and so embarrassed by his foreign accent, that he covered it up by speaking like a bum.
"Eet ees oonlikaly, Miss Morgan," the tough and sloppy Louie went on, "that you will be able ta arouse thees Goddomb beast. He ees named 'Droopy', becos uv his nadaral hobit ov follink azleep on da jop."
Boss Carl was eyeing Lenny in a peculiar and suspicious manner. She had to avert her eyes from his gaze, because it made her extremely nervous.
"Look," the informative Louie went on, "dis beast am a begatatian fo da most part. He just lies arount and eet da leefs from da Goddomb trees. I mean, booby, he don' dig ta make luf – god me?"
Despite her difficulty in following his unusual speech patterns, Lenny nodded – she got the gist of what he was saying anyway.
This animal was not a natural lover. He had to be coaxed.
"Da whot dey got in zoos," Louie was gnnnmg evilly now, this was obviously what he regarded as a supreme test of seductive talent, "dos slods, dey don't eben maade so good wid each udder en der own species. Ya understant wad I mean?"
"I'd understand better if you didn't try to hide your accent in that garble of yours." Lenny snapped these words out suddenly, despite herself she was becoming impatient with Louie's clumsy disguise.
A wide grin suddenly broke across Boss Carl's face.
"Dynamite!" he cheered, "you are one sharp chick, Lenny! And the job I got calls for relatively quick thinking – so you just racked up one more point – you were right on about the accent. What else can you tell us about? I mean, baby, what have you got Louie figured for by now?"
Lenny eyed the dumpy, balding foreigner for a moment then grinned. "I think he's French. That accent is just a cover up – so people will think he's a dumb dock worker or something like that. No. He doesn't even want people to think he's a dock worker – a dock worker could be smart, he could know something and could be working for somebody besides the union. He wants everybody to think he's a wino – that's why he keeps his apartment such a bloody Goddamned mess, and that's why he's got all those bottles strewn around. I'd bet a night's salary that he doesn't drink half of them."
Lyle Montagne smiled the smile that made him a star of the silver screen; he was growing to like this spunky, young woman more and more. "What would you say, Lenny, if I told you he doesn't drink any of them, at all?"
"I'd say you were lying," Lenny responded without hesitation, "because he has to have wine on his breath all the time – otherwise people would begin to wonder."
Boss Carl raised his eyes and nodded at Montagne.
"This," he said in a quiet voice, "is one helluva smart piece of snatch."
Lenny could not keep from smiling and blushing with pride – she sensed that that odd comment was extremely high praise from the gruff owner of the Phylogem Club.
"You are right, mon cherie, I am not a wino. I am Frensh as you have guesed. But now you sheel tell to me what you think I am doing foaire a profession."
"Well…" Lenny was perplexed for a moment, she almost wished that she had not been so presumptuous as to criticize his accent. "… I… I don't know, exactly…" she sensed that all eyes were on her. To fail to come up with something good at this crucial point might mean the loss of the lucrative position for which she was being so rigidly tested. Fortunately, she had a sudden and unexpected insight. "Wait! Of course, it all makes sense. You don't want anyone to think that you are even conscious half the time – that must be because you really are sharp – you must be a very important and intelligent man. Perhaps people would even recognize your name if they heard it. The dumb accent covers up an obviously extensive knowledge – maybe you have a specialty…"
The three men nodded and smiled at one another, very plainly impressed. Lenny glanced back at the sloth and thought of Louie's description of the animal. It had been casual and the grammar had been atrocious – but he seemed to know an uncommon lot about the rare creature. So that's it, she thought triumphantly, it all fits together when you think about it!
"I know," she cried out excitedly, "Louie is some kind of scientist – one that specializes in animals – what did you call it?"
"A zoologist," Lyle grinned in explanation, "that's it all right, baby. You hit the proverbial nail right on the head. Louie is an expert on all types and species of animals. He was, at one time, the world's most famous authority on the sexual behavior of the primitive mammal. For that reason, he has been hired by us."
"Us?" Lenny was somewhat doubtful.
"Yeah, chickie," Boss Carl grumbled, "us. But we'll explain all that later. Bein' quick on your feet ain't enough for this assignment. Ya gotta pass another test. A physical test."
Filled with new doubts about her ability to meet their requirements, Lenny turned once more to eye the sloth. "You want me to – to make love to that thing – uh – to Droopy?"
"More than that, baby," Boss Carl growled harshly, "this ain't no simple test – we know you can do that stuff, already. We want to see if you got real talent. Anybody can screw a sloth – hell, even that redheaded horsefucker, Audre, could get a rise out of Droopy here."