"That should be interesting," Mr. Mcwhortle said, grinning at me. "Be sure you make tapes. I've got to see that." That evening, on the drive back to Rustling Palms Estates, I asked Marleen Todd, "Do you admire strong men? " She laughed. "What a question! If you mean weight lifters and bodybuilders, the answer is no, emphatically no! I think they're grotesque."

"I phrased the question awkwardly," I said. "I meant vigorous men, aggressive men, men who want to dominate." , "The answer is still no. I've always suspected that men like that are trying to conceal an inner feeling of inferiority. And so they overcompensate."

"Do you think most women feel the way you do?"

She considered that a few moments. "I really can't say," she said finally. "I know there are women who admire forceful men and respond to them. Why do you ask, Greg?"

"just curiosity, " I said. "I told you I'm a klutz when it comes to human relations. I usually know how research animals will react, but I can't predict people. I just don't understand why they do the things they do, what their motives are, what drives them."

"I think most people have a very basic drive," she said.

"Self-preservation. That may be the fundamental instinct, but then it gets complicated. For instance, I'd die for Tania. I'd sacrifice myself if it meant her survival."

"And these women you mentioned who respond to forceful men, are they also motivated by selfpreservation?"

"They may be," she said warily. "Perhaps it's atavistic, the cavewoman wanting a strong, aggressive cavernan because he can kill a saber-toothed tiger and bring home meat."

"Probably," I said, smiling. "So the females who admire aggressive males are really trying to insure their own survival?"

"That's one possibility," Marleen said. "Another is that they're instinctively seeking strong genes for their offspring.

And that leads to the survival of the family, the tribe, the nation, and ultimately the human race."

I groaned. "No wonder I'm confused. We start with women responding to strong men and end with the immortality of the species. Well, I suppose that's what evolution is all about."

"Greg, does this have anything to do with the project you're working on?"

"Only indirectly," I said cautiously. I couldn't reveal more. "And speaking of projects, how is yours coming along?"

"I'm going to be just as secretive as you," she said. "But I will tell you it's a new perfume, and if it works the way I hope, it will revolutionize the fragrance industry."

"That sounds exciting," I said, although I didn't think it did. "What makes it so revolutionary?"

"Well, I don't want to go into details, but you know that scientists still don't understand exactly how the sense of smell works. They do know that certain scents can recall emotions and awaken memories or-and this is iffy-inspire emotions and awaken appetites. That allegedly includes sexual desire. But my new perfume, if it succeeds, takes a totally different approach. It aims at behavior modification. Greg, why are you looking at me so strangely?"

"You mean," I said, "your new perfume might work the way nitrous oxide makes people laugh and acts as an anesthetic? "

"Not precisely like that," Marleen said. "But its effects would cause people to act differently from the way they normally act."

"And this modification or change in their behavior, would it be pleasurable?"

"Oh yes." , "But could your new fragrance result in any ill effects? For instance, antisocial conduct by the women wearing it or by anyone sniffing it?"

"Good heavens, no!" Marleen said decisively. "If I thought that might happen, I'd drop the whole project immediately."

I was about to say, "I wish I could say the same," but I remained silent. Still, her forthright statement stirred up all my original doubts about the moral and ethical proprieties of what I was doing. I had no desire to create a new crop of killers and rapists. It seemed to me there were enough of that breed without encouragement from the Mcwhortle Laboratory.

"A penny for your thoughts," Marleen said. "Haven't you heard of inflation?" I asked. "Now they're worth at least a nickel."

And we both laughed. cwhortle called me from his office one morning, a Friday it was, and said he was feeling horny and would be over at noon.

That was a pain because I had an appointment to get my nails done.

Naturally I told him to come ahead, and then I phoned the beauty shop to cancel. I had a good thing going with the old man, and I wasn't about to make waves.

He showed up hot to trot and started undressing right away.

He always wore boxer shorts that almost came to his knees-real droopy drawers. One pair even had little bunnies printed on them.

I never laughed of course. I just said, "oh daddy, you look so cute!"

He told me from the beginning that his ticker was on the fritz-it speeded up sometimes-so when we had sex, I did most of the work. I always told him what a great lover he was, and he liked that. Note to wives everywhere, if your man doesn't get that bullshit at home, he'll get it somewhere else.

Afterward I brought him a cold bottle of the dark beer he liked, and got a diet cola for myself because, I had put on a few pounds recently and my tush was getting pillowy.

He had brought me a big jar of a new moisturizing creme his laboratory had developed. It had a bronzer in it so you could get a tan without going out in the sun.

"Thank you, daddy," I said. "It will be great for rainy days. How are you coming along on that crazy pill you told me about-the one that's supposed to make every soldier into Superman?"

"Coming along fine. Greg is making progress."

"Who's Greg?"

"Gregory Barrow, our top research chemist. He's handling the project.

The man is a genius."

"I've never met a genius. What's he like?"

"A mousy kind of guy but all brain. I know he's married and has a kid, but his job is his whole life. I mean he doesn't play golf or anything like that. A real workaholic. I wish I had twenty more like him."

"You think the ZAP stuff is going to be a success?"

"Well, Greg has it in liquid form now, and when he injects it into mice, it turns them into pit bulls. I don't see any reason why it shouldn't work with humans if we can get it into pill or powder form."

"Maybe the government will give you a medal."

He laughed. "If they pay their bills on time, I'll be satisfied.

Listen, Jess, I've got to get back to the office. A client's coming in who wants to talk about a new product, a suntan lotion combined with an insect repellent."

"Hey," I said, "that's a great idea. The last time I went to the beach I almost got eaten up alive by sand fleas."

"Lucky fleas," Mcwhortle said, grinning at me.

He gave me my salary check before he left. What a sweet hustle I had going.

I showered and dressed, then phoned William K. Brevoort. He wasn't in, so I left a message on his answering machine. I watched a soap opera on TV for a while, but then Willie got back to me. I told him I had something for him, and he said he could come over that evening,around nine o'clock, and I said okay.

I phoned Laura Gunther at Hashbeam's Bo-teek and asked her if she'd like to have an early dinner at a rib joint we both liked.

She said sure, and we made arrangements to meet there at six-thirty.

Laura was the only close woman friend I had made in town since I moved up from Miami. She worked at Hashbeam's, and I stopped by one day to look around and we got to talking. It turned out she had been in the game herself but had gone straight and married a real-estate broker.

That lasted all of two years and now he was divorced. She wasn't exactly hurting for bucks but had taken the job at the Bo-teek to keep from hitting the convention circuit again.