`Is that the Dr. Krum?' a voice asked at my elbow.
I looked down at Miss Welish and then over at Dr. Krum. The crumb was still in his beard, although better hidden
now.
'Blnnh,' I asked.
'Fred thinks so too,' Miss Welish said and she turned us aside from the other conversation. `He says one reason he
admires you is that you don't stand for any nonsense.'
Impulsively I lifted one great paw and dangled it loosely over her shoulder. She was wearing a silver, high-necked dress and the shimmering scales were rough against my wrist. `I beg your pardon,' she said, and when she backed away my paw slid down over a breast and swung briefly like a
pendulum at my side.
She blushed and glanced quickly at the three men talking nearby.
`Fred says that Dr. Krum is very good at what he does, but that what he does isn't really important. What do you think?
'
`Unn,' I said loudly and stamped one giant foot.
`Oh me too. I don't like animal experimenters myself. I've been doing social work in Staten Island now for two years
and there's so much to be done with people.'
She looked now over at the couch where Dr. Felloni, the elderly lady and the thin old big deal were talking: Miss
Welish seemed to be relaxing in my company.
`Even here, in this very room, there are people whose lives are unfulfilled, people who need help.'
I was silent, but a bit of drool escaped from my lower lip and begun its pilgrimage down my shirt front.
`Unless we can learn to relate to each other,' Miss Welish went on, `to be aware of each other, all the chicken cures in
the world won't help.'
I was staring at Arlene's balloons undulating in the light of the chandelier. A small orgasm of saliva spilled again from my lower lip. `What fascinates me about you psychiatrists is the way you hold yourselves in, remain detached. Don't you ever feel
the suffering you have to deal with?'
Miss Welish turned toward me again and grimaced at the sight of my tie and shirt front.
I began groping clumsily in my pocket for my watchcase with the die.
`Don't you feel the suffering?' Miss Welish repeated.
Pulling out the watchcase I let my head twitch three times sideways and grunted a single, 'Un.'
`Oh God, you men are so hard.'
I slowly raised my lower jaw; it ached from its drooped position. Running my tongue over my dry upper lip, I used
my handkerchief to wipe the saliva from my chest and turned my ryes full on Miss Welish.
`What time is it?' she asked.
`Time for us to stop playing word games and get down to business,' I said.
`I think so too. I can't stand cocktail-party chatter,' she looked pleased that we were at last going to be above it all.
`What's underneath that lovely dress?'
`You like it? Fred bought it for me at Ohrbach's. Don't you like the way it - glimmers?'
She gave the upper part of her body a little shake: her dress shimmered and her chubby arms vibrated.
`You're built, baby - Look, what's your first name?'
'Joya. It's corny, but I like it.'
`Joya. It's a beautiful name. You're beautiful. Your skin is incredibly smooth and creamy. I'd love to run my tongue
over it.'
I reached my hand up and caressed her cheek and then the back of her neck. She reddened again.
`I was born with it, I guess. My mother has a lovely complexion and Dad too. In fact, Dad-'
`Are your thighs and your belly and your breasts that same creamy white color?'
`Well. .. I guess they are. Except when I get a tan.'
`I'd love to be able to run my hands over your whole body.'
`It's nice. When I put suntan lotion on, it feels so smooth.'
I lowered my lids a little and tried to look sexy.
'You've stopped drooling,' she said.
'Look, Joya, this cocktail-party chatter is giving me a headache, Can't we go someplace for a few minutes where we
can be alone?'