"I'm a lawyer. My husband and I were in practice together."

"Zinberg and Zinberg?"

"No. Just Zinberg."

"Ah! And was that the problem? Insufficient recognition for your contribution?"

"...No, that was more a symptom than one of the problems. You want to hear about them? The problems?"

"Nope."

"Oh." She blinked. Then: "Well then, do you want to tell me about your problems?"

"Sure. My wife is a wonderful human being. My daughter is a blend of beauty and wit. I got tenure eight years ago. And I publish articles in the major journals of my field with machinelike regularity."

"These are your problems?"

"Seen from the inside, yes. You see, I always wanted to be captain of a tramp steamer on the South China Sea. Or a novelist. Or a movie star. Or an apple grower in Vermont. And instead? Instead, I have a departmental committee meeting in the morning. Now there's excitement for you. What about you, Martha? Did you ever want to be an apple-growing movie star adrift in the South China Sea?"

"No. All my life I wanted to be a lawyer."

"Well then, you've won life's great battle! You've made out."

"Not tonight, I haven't. My first shot at the swinging singles scene wasn't a screaming success. I realize that zaftig isn't in this season, but still... I mean, come on! This place was steamy with libido earlier on, and some of the boys were too drunk to discriminate. And yet... here I am. Still sitting here. Advise me, Marvin. What should I do? Offer green stamps?"

"Do I understand you correctly? Are you asking me for guidance on how to get yourself laid?"

"I think I am. I'm not sure. After all, this is my maiden voyage... if a matron can have a maiden voyage. This is my first time out since the divorce. Maybe I just want to talk. Share ideas, dreams, insights, wisecracks." She tilted back her head and looked at me narrowly. "Come to think of it, maybe you're not the person to ask for advice. I mean, you're obviously no hotshot at the business of seduction."

"I resent that!"

"Well, you're still here, aren't you? You didn't find anyone for tonight."

"Yes, well... that's the part I resent."

She laughed. "You're sort of fun."

"Fun? Wow! Like a barrel of monkeys? Gee! Actually, Martha, I didmake out tonight. I ran my patented, all-purpose, never-fail Switch Routine on a girl, and she fell like the Roman Empire. So you see, when you assume that I am here, rather than sweating on the belly of some highly desirable chick, because I lack persuasive skills, you are full of shit up to your pink, shell-like ears-if you don't mind my waxing poetic."

"Wax away. Are you drunk, Marvin? You sound pretty drunk."

"Only my mouth is drunk. My mind is perfectly pellucid. Hey, if I had slurred that 'perfectly pellucid', thatwould have been funny. So? Do you want to learn how I made out, or not?"

"Is it still raining?"

"Like a cow pissing on a flat rock, as wits say in the Big Bend country."

"In that case, teach me, Marvin. I'm all ears... pink, shell-like ears, that is." She crossed her legs and assumed an acutely attentive look.

"All right, here's how it went. I approached this fish, dangled my classic 'switch' line in front of her, and pow! She was on the hook. All we had to do was down our drinks and in half an hour we'd have been in her apartment, making the beast with two backs."

"So why weren't you?"

"Well, you see, once the bait is taken and the hook is well set, my interest in landing the fish evaporates. I'm more a hunter than a killer. It isn't the tickle and squirt that attracts me. It's the constant reaffirmation that I can still harvest young flesh. Does that make any sense to you?"

"Sure. In fact, it's transparent. Even trite."

"Trite?"

"So how does this classic 'switch' sting of yours work?"

"Like most landmark discoveries in mankind's slow rise from the stone axe to the atomic bomb, The Switch is based on simple principles. All these bumbling butchers around here run standard, banal dodges. They grope the fish's emotions by telling her she's beautiful; or they grope her mind by saying she's interesting; or they grope her self-esteem by faking a common interest in the Rolling Stones or Fellini or art nouveau. Me, I cut through all this tedious persiflage and do a complete switch-hence the name-on those worn-out ploys. Playing it for bittersweet, burnt-out, and tragic, I frankly admit that both she and I are here to get ourselves laid. Then I shake my head and say what a sick and silly thing that really is. Here we sit... so much finer and more sensitive than these animals sniffing each other all around us... and yet we find ourselves shopping in the same meat market as they, victims of corporal impulses that we can't fight, even though we know how stupid and ultimately unsatisfying it all is. I sigh and say that at least we can preserve our dignity by not conning each other with shams of tenderness and affection. We can call a spade a spade. (Note of caution for potential switch users: The 'call a spade a spade' line is a little dodgy when the target fish is Black.) And there you have it, Martha. My sure-fire switch scam... patent pending. After it's been run, the two of us finish our drinks while raking those around us with glances of superior scorn. We're a team now. We've both accepted reality, both admitted we're there to get laid. Ergo... let's get to it."

"And that really works, Marvin?"

"More often than not."

"Hm-m. It doesn't sound very romantic."

"We're not talking about romance. What we're talking about is more like giving blood, or taking a vitamin capsule, or pissing-which are, as a matter of fact, excellent analogies for the three major impulses that drive us towards random sex."

Martha probed the bottom of her glass with a plastic swizzle stick. "Would you mind telling me something? Why didn't you take a shot at me? Didn't you notice me sitting here?"

"I noticed you."

"And?"

"Well, you see... I've got this problem. I only target young fish, sprats. Lurking in the corners of my mind there is this notion that youth is a communicable disease that one can catch through direct contact."

"Does it ever work, this chasing after youth?"

"It alwaysworks... for about thirty minutes."

She took the swizzle stick out and licked it meditatively. "I don't think your sting would work for me. Too complicated. Too devious."

"Don't lick that. Plastic causes cancer." I must have swallowed too much hooch that night, because I found myself feeling something like compassion for her. So I decided to play it straight with her. "Martha? I told you about the switch game where the angler lays it right on the line with the fish. Well, there's a more advanced version of the ploy, one I call the Double Switch. That's where I tell some intelligent fish at the bar all about the switch game."

She was silent for a couple of beats. "You're saying that I've just been a victim of the double switch?"

"That's it. But remember... it's reserved for the smartest fish."

"And that's a compliment, eh?"

"Indeed it is."

"Hm-m. But what about your taste for young flesh and all that business about youth being a communicable disease?"

"Martha! Do you really think I have so little imagination that I am incapable of lying?"

"...I see."

"Like everybody else, I take what I can get. But because you're bright and witty, I thought I'd warn you. Particularly as this is your first night out on the hunt. Seems only sporting to give you a chance to get away."

"I'm not all that sure I want to get away. Do you mind if I ask-do you love your wife?"

"Sure."

"But then... why?"

"It's all about being fifty and not being a captain on the South China Sea or a farmer in Vermont. You're parked out in the lot?"