realised that it was loaded with vodka – one hundred proof, I feel certain. Vodka is
tricky; it has no odour and no taste… and now I lay me down to sleep –
I think some of those appetisers had aphrodisiacs concealed in them… and Maureen
does not need aphrodisiacs. Has never needed them.
There were three sorts of wine at dinner and endless toasts that rapidly progressed
from suggestive to outrageous. The little robot that waited on my sector of the
table kept the wine glasses filled but was not programmed to understand ‘water’ –
and Mama Maureen got potted.
No use pretending anything else. I had too little to eat and too much to drink and
too little sleep and I never have learned to drink like a lady. I had simply learned
how to pretend to drink while avoiding alcohol. But on Carolita’s night I let my
guard down.
I had planned to ask Zenobia to permit me to stay overnight in her house… then on
the morrow, festival over, I could tackle a city restored to its senses. First I
needed a minimum of money and clothes… and there are ways to get both without
actually stealing. A female can often wangle an unsecured loan if she hits a mate
for it who shows a tendency to pat her in a friendly fashion. She can hint pretty
strongly as to the interest she is willing to pay… and every female Time Corps
field agent has done something like that on occasion. We aren’t nervous virgins; we
don’t leave Boondock without being vaccinated against pregnancy and nineteen other
things you might catch if a trouser worm bit you. If you are too tender-minded for
such emergency measures, you do belong in the profession. Females are better than
males as Time Corps scouts because they can get away with such things. My co-wife
Gwen/Hazel could steal the spots off a leopard and never disturb his sleep. If she
were sent after the Rheingold, Fafnir and his flaming halitosis would not stand a
chance.
Having acquired that minimum of local money and local clothing, my next move would
be a preliminary study to determine: 1)how to get more money in this culture without
going to jail; 2)where, if anywhere, is the Time Corps message drop; 3)if the second
point is null, where is the dummy front for Hilda’s crosstime black-marketers? Most
of this can be researched unobtrusively either at a public library or in a telephone
directory.
All very professional – Instead I got snagged by the proctors and did not do any of
it.
Zenobia insisted that I go with them to the Mayor’s orgy, and by then I lacked the
judgement to refuse. She selected a costume for me, too, from her clothes: long
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sheer hose, green round garters, high heels, and a cape… and somehow it seemed to
me the perfect costume, just right, although I could not remember why I thought so.
I recall only vignettes of the Mayor’s party. Perhaps it will help to think of a
party given jointly by Caligula and Nero, as directed by Cecil B. de Mille in
gorgeous Technicolor. I remember telling some oaf (I can’t remember his face; I’m
not sure he had a face) that it was not impossible to lay me – many have tried and
most succeeded – but it had to be approached romantic like, not like a man grabbing
a bite standing up at a fast-food joint.
That party and the rest of that night was rape, rape, rape, all around me… I do
not care for rape; one does not meet a better class of people that way.
I escaped from that party and found myself out in the park. My leaving had to do
with a pompous ass dressed in a long robe (a cope?) of white silk heavily
embroidered in cardinal and gold. It was open down the front with his Flaggenstange
sticking out. He was so self-important that he had four acolytes to help him with
the chore.
He grabbed me as I was trying to slide past – stuck his tongue in my mouth. I kneed