to know you.”
“Don’t knock it,” she said. “It’s a great little bit. It’s gotten me this far, hasn’t it? Besides, isn’t that what men want from a girl?”
“I don’t.”
“Really?”
There was a none-too-gentle mockery in her voice. She took a deep breath and pulled her shoulders back. “So tell me, what does cross your mind when I do this?”
Regardless of what impression I may have left on you from my earlier exploits, I do think fast. Fast enough to censor my first three thoughts before answering.
“Mostly discomfort,” I said truthfully. “It’s impressive, all right, but I get the feeling I should do something about it and I’m not sure I’m up to it.”
She smiled triumphantly and let her breath out, easing the tension across her chest and my mind. Of the two, I think my mind needed it more.
“You have just hit on the secret of the sex kittens. It’s not that you don’t like it. There’s just too much of it for you to be sure you can handle it.”
“I’m not sure I follow you.”
“Men like to brag and strut a lot, but they’ve got egos as brittle as spun glass. If a girl calls their bluff, comes at them like a seething volcano that can’t be put out, men get scared. Instead of fanning a gentle feminine ember, they’re faced with a forest fire, so they take their wind elsewhere. Oh, they keep us around to impress people. ‘Look at the tigress I’ve tamed,’ and all that. But when we’re alone they usually keep their distance. I’ll bet a moll sees less actual action than your average coed ... except our pay scale is a lot better.”
That made me think. On the one hand, she had called my reaction pretty close. Her roaring come-on had scared me a bit ... well, a lot. Still, there was the other hand.
“It sounds like you don’t think very much of men,” I observed.
“Hey! Don’t get me wrong. They’re a lot better than the alternatives. I just got a little sick of listening to the same old lines over and over and decided to turn the tables on ‘em. That’s all.”
“That wasn’t what I meant. A second ago you said ‘That’s what men want from a girl.’ It may be true, and I won’t try to argue the point. It’s uncomfortably close to ‘That’s all men want from a girl,’ though, and that I will argue.”
She scowled thoughtfully and chewed her lower lip. “I guess that is over-generalizing a bit,” she admitted.
“Good.”
“It’s more accurate to say ‘That’s all men want from a beautiful girl.’”
“Bunny...”
“No, you listen to me, Skeeve. This is one subject I’ve had a lot more experience at than you have. It’s fine to talk about minds when you look like Massha. But when you grow up looking good like I did—no brag, just a statement of fact—it’s one long string of men hitting on you. If they’re interested in your mind, I’d say they need a crash course in anatomy!”
In the course of our friendship, I had had many long chats with Massha about what it meant to a woman to be less than attractive. However, this was the first time I had ever been made to realize that beauty might be something less than an asset.
“I don’t recall ‘hitting on you,’ Bunny.”
“Okay, okay. Maybe I have taken to counter-punching before someone else starts. There’s been enough of a pattern that I think I’m justified in jumping to conclusions. As I recall, you were a little preoccupied when we met. How would you have reacted if we ran into each other casually in a bar?”
That wasn’t difficult at all to imagine ... unfortunately.
“Touché!” I acknowledged. “Let me just toss one thought at you, Bunny. Then I’ll yield to your experience. The question of sex is going to hang in the air over any male-female encounter until it’s resolved. I think it lingers from pre-civilization days when survival of the species hinged on propagation. It’s strongest when encountering a member of the opposite sex one finds attractive
“Don’t knock it,” she said. “It’s a great little bit. It’s gotten me this far, hasn’t it? Besides, isn’t that what men want from a girl?”
“I don’t.”
“Really?”
There was a none-too-gentle mockery in her voice. She took a deep breath and pulled her shoulders back. “So tell me, what does cross your mind when I do this?”
Regardless of what impression I may have left on you from my earlier exploits, I do think fast. Fast enough to censor my first three thoughts before answering.
“Mostly discomfort,” I said truthfully. “It’s impressive, all right, but I get the feeling I should do something about it and I’m not sure I’m up to it.”
She smiled triumphantly and let her breath out, easing the tension across her chest and my mind. Of the two, I think my mind needed it more.
“You have just hit on the secret of the sex kittens. It’s not that you don’t like it. There’s just too much of it for you to be sure you can handle it.”
“I’m not sure I follow you.”
“Men like to brag and strut a lot, but they’ve got egos as brittle as spun glass. If a girl calls their bluff, comes at them like a seething volcano that can’t be put out, men get scared. Instead of fanning a gentle feminine ember, they’re faced with a forest fire, so they take their wind elsewhere. Oh, they keep us around to impress people. ‘Look at the tigress I’ve tamed,’ and all that. But when we’re alone they usually keep their distance. I’ll bet a moll sees less actual action than your average coed ... except our pay scale is a lot better.”
That made me think. On the one hand, she had called my reaction pretty close. Her roaring come-on had scared me a bit ... well, a lot. Still, there was the other hand.
“It sounds like you don’t think very much of men,” I observed.
“Hey! Don’t get me wrong. They’re a lot better than the alternatives. I just got a little sick of listening to the same old lines over and over and decided to turn the tables on ‘em. That’s all.”
“That wasn’t what I meant. A second ago you said ‘That’s what men want from a girl.’ It may be true, and I won’t try to argue the point. It’s uncomfortably close to ‘That’s all men want from a girl,’ though, and that I will argue.”
She scowled thoughtfully and chewed her lower lip. “I guess that is over-generalizing a bit,” she admitted.
“Good.”
“It’s more accurate to say ‘That’s all men want from a beautiful girl.’”
“Bunny...”
“No, you listen to me, Skeeve. This is one subject I’ve had a lot more experience at than you have. It’s fine to talk about minds when you look like Massha. But when you grow up looking good like I did—no brag, just a statement of fact—it’s one long string of men hitting on you. If they’re interested in your mind, I’d say they need a crash course in anatomy!”
In the course of our friendship, I had had many long chats with Massha about what it meant to a woman to be less than attractive. However, this was the first time I had ever been made to realize that beauty might be something less than an asset.
“I don’t recall ‘hitting on you,’ Bunny.”
“Okay, okay. Maybe I have taken to counter-punching before someone else starts. There’s been enough of a pattern that I think I’m justified in jumping to conclusions. As I recall, you were a little preoccupied when we met. How would you have reacted if we ran into each other casually in a bar?”
That wasn’t difficult at all to imagine ... unfortunately.
“Touché!” I acknowledged. “Let me just toss one thought at you, Bunny. Then I’ll yield to your experience. The question of sex is going to hang in the air over any male-female encounter until it’s resolved. I think it lingers from pre-civilization days when survival of the species hinged on propagation. It’s strongest when encountering a member of the opposite sex one finds attractive
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