Sci Fiction Classics Volume 3

by Vol 3 (v1. 2) (epub)

  "Sure. It used to be one of the office secretaries, left about a year ago."

  "Less than a year."

  "Yeah. So who did Kees marry?"

  "Frederika," Jim exulted, "changed its name, let its hair grow, took one or two dancing lessons, and opened a house."

  "And Kees married it." Max was stunned.

  "Her, now. Kees married her almost the minute it became legal. Bought out her contract and married her."

  Max wondered if maybe Roland had made the story up. Even if this thing had actually happened at Lanon, Max felt vaguely that it'd be better not to talk about it. But curiosity was overriding. "How old is it—how old is she, anyway? Must be thirty at least."

  "Thirty-five, I bet."

  "Imagine a woman not getting the urge until she was thirty-five," Max marveled.

  Jim pretended to spit behind him. "Obviously if a girl hasn't felt the urge by thirty-five, it's going to be a career. It's not cut out for anything else, period."

  "You mean Frederika never really had a woman's instincts at all?"

  "Obviously. Frederika became a dancer just so she could get married! How much of an audience do you think she ever got at her house? Who beside Kees?" Jim's eyes were bright with suppressed laughter, and his voice was a jeer. "I bet she couldn't even get a promoter. I bet behind the scenes Kees financed the whole thing himself. It must have cost plenty."

  Max still felt the conversation was indecent, but—"Why did he do it? Why would he even go to see her?" It was hard to understand.

  "He went to see her dance because he loved her."

  This, at least, was a joke, Max knew. "Oh, go on. How could he love her when he could see real women, like Luana, or even Marta? It isn't natural to love anybody except the most beautiful woman you've seen, obviously."

  "You don't have to tell me." Jim whispered, winking, "Confidentially, Kees wanted to get married from the beginning. He likes children!" And Jim's derision overflowed in violent laughter, loud and long. It was okay; if the super heard, he wouldn't know what the joke was. Max joined in, laughing at old Husband Kees.

  Jim was still his friend after all.

  It wasn't only loyalty to Paula that made Max go through with taking it to Luana's, it was partly loyalty to the way he'd felt about the idea in the morning. He was too stubborn to give it up so far as to lie to Paula.

  As he and Paula went down the plush winding stair into Luana's, Max heard the audio inside, beat, beat, beat, and a rolling melody. It was playing Luana's theme, though, so he knew the evening was just beginning in there. The familiar excitement made him feel like running down those last few steps. As soon as they were at the bottom, he turned toward Luana.

  Luana was gorgeous tonight. (Luana was always gorgeous!) Her head was raised as she faced the audience, her heavily shadowed eyes were closed, her scarlet mouth pouted, glittering jewels swung on her waist-length braids. Luana was gorgeous.

  Luana gave a little stretch and yawn, presenting her breasts. Max tingled all over. What a body!

  It was easy to see why so few girls became dancers. How many of them had bodies like Luana's? How many of them had bodies even approaching Luana's?

  Tonight Luana was wearing practically nothing above the waist, and you could appreciate her to the fullest. Below the waist, she was covered, the same as always, by a loose ankle-length skirt which swirled excitingly whenever she turned. (Max had been trying to decide the last few nights whether Luana was pregnant again yet. He hoped not, of course.)

  Mabel came up to Max and Paula as they stood at the bottom of the stairs, to take their admission fees. Max was returned abruptly to his problem. Would Mabel notice in the dimness the slight extra length of Paula's jacket that signified it was not a man? Would she let them in if she did know Paula's sex? To be sure, Paula had said it had seen dancers before, so maybe it was okay.

  Max paid his own admission. Mabel said, "Good evening, Max," and turned to Paula. "Are you with him?"

  "We're together," said Paula calmly.

  Mabel took its money, too. She said, "You'll have to sit in the back."

  "Certainly," said Paula.

  They took their seats—in the back.

  This was terrible! Max had been up front for five weeks without missing a night, and he was sure Luana must have been stirred by his constancy. She must have begun to realize he was not just an adolescent fooling around. What would she think now when she didn't see him?

  It was possible she might notice him even back here. But if she did, what would she think? That he had decided he didn't want to stay up front.

  This was all a big mistake!

  Here was Max in the back with the mere spectators, and up there, separated from him by a wide aisle, sitting right at the edge of the lighted area where Luana danced, were a dozen other guys. Tonight, as far as Luana was concerned, they were the devoted lovers. Max was sick with envy.

  He recognized most of them. There was Jim, with Roland, the other Luana follower from Lanon. Most outstanding, there was Dan Sellars. Two weeks ago Luana, late in the evening, while dancing around the stage with Dan Sellars, had led him off- stage to be jaypeed, ending the show for the night. Max's throat choked up just remembering it, thinking of the sudden rush of delicious passion that must have filled Luana's lovely body, imagining himself in Dan Sellars's place!

  But it had not been Max, it had been Dan Sellars, and he and Luana had stayed that way for two whole weeks—not bad! And here was Max, in the back rows. Tonight would not be the night Luana would jaypee with him; or even have her first dance with him; or even lean invitingly over his chair in passing, as she had done twice this week.

  Beat, beat, beat, and the melody rolled languidly.

  Max told himself that he couldn't stay bitter while he was at Luana's.

  Luana spread her slender arms wide, and clasped her hands behind her head. Leaning her head way back, she slunk back and forth in front of the audience, panting audibly. Back and forth, over and over.

  Max knew this was irresistible. He knew the effect that would hit him now, and he waited for it impatiently, like a man who has just chug-a-lugged two double whiskeys.

  It hit. It rocked him. He kept his eyes on Luana, feeding the flame … He still loved that Luana, all right. Oh, it had hit!

  But maybe not quite so strong as usual?

  Of course, he was farther away from her now. He wasn't up front.

  The audio changed tunes, and Luana changed moods. She swung gaily up to Dan Sellars and danced him around and around the floor. He was certainly a good man for her when it came to dancing. Luana looked so graceful and loving when he held her. In some ways it was even better than watching Luana alone.

  Without warning Luana danced him through the curtains out of the room. The audio was hushed. Nobody moved from his seat; it was too early for Luana's evening shift to be over, but there was a little rustle of whispering, speculating. It died to total silence as the curtain stirred.

  It was Dan Sellars, alone. Luana was unattached again! She had renoed him!

  Dan Sellars walked deadpan to his seat; he was still going to sit up front at Luana's, then. Max approved.

  The audio blared and Luana skipped through the curtains, her scarlet lips laughing unrestrainedly. She was wearing a new skirt, flaming red, and her shoulders were spread with tiny spangles.

  Swinging the red skirt merrily, Luana began to sing. How many dancers could sing too?—let alone sing like Luana.

  It was The Call of My House, a fairly new song. Max was disappointed. He loyally enjoyed it, but really he thought most of the new songs, even the serious ones like this, sounded inadequate for the emotions he felt for Luana. They sounded insincere. Now the old songs—the really old songs that were revived every so often—had the directness of true art. The words were usually inappropriate for a dancer to be singing to her audience, but he could allow for that. The sentiments might be from another time, but they were sincere. Songs like Rosalie, K-A-L-A-M-A-Z-O-O
, or I Wanna Love You.

  After the song Luana began dancing with one after another of the men up front. Everybody was unusually excited tonight, because of Luana's having renoed—Luana herself most of all. It had a stimulating effect. She danced with Roland and even with Dan Sellars, more gracefully, more yieldingly than she had the last few nights. It was something to watch. But the more Max enjoyed it, the more he longed to be up front.

  Luana sang again. Just as if she had heard Max's wish, it was one of the old favorites. He even thought she seemed to be singing toward the one empty seat Mabel had left up front. And after the song was over she'd be dancing again! If it wasn't for Paula—

  Paula. He'd actually forgotten it was because of Paula that he was back here.

  Remembering startled him; he turned to face Paula. It met his eyes.

  It said conversationally, "Max, you're pretty devoted to Luana, aren't you?" How could it be so calm?

  Well, naturally, it wouldn't be the same as a man.

  He said intensely, "I'd do absolutely anything for her—anything at all."

  Paula stared at him thoughtfully. He didn't have anything to say to it, or any real purpose in having turned in the first place. He was even a little embarrassed. And Luana's voice caressing him.

  Paula said quietly, "I have to stay in the back section, but you can go up alone if you want to and sit in your usual chair."

  "That's right!" he said. "Why didn't I think of that?"

  In the front row you heard Luana's voice much more intimately.

  Luana must have noticed him taking his seat in the middle of a number, but she would know it was just from impatience to be near her. What would she think of his being so late, though? Had he ruined his chances?

  When she had finished the song, Luana stood at one end of the row of seats. The audio was off, everything was quiet. She yawned and stretched tantalizingly. Then she walked slowly from one follower to the next, the length of the row. She was deciding which one to dance with next; but she was considering her decision a lot more carefully than usual; it must be an important one.

  Nobody moved. Max had to restrain himself consciously from squirming with suspense. Luana started back along the row, hesitating at each chair. She was in front of Max! She stayed there—longer than she ever had before!

  And moved on.

  And danced with Jim!

  Jim, who had been up front only one night before! There was no justice in it. Max just couldn't understand women at all. Jim was a nice guy, but after all!

  Then came the catastrophe. Luana and Jim danced two or three times around the floor—gracefully, Max had to admit; they danced well together—and through the curtains.

  The evening was over, in an explosion of applause from the audience. Luana had jaypeed Jim. Jim!

  Max got up blindly and left, ignoring Paula's hand in his, ignoring the cool night air, walking without a thought in his head that he could bear.

  Max was confused, as if he was waking up from a long sleep. He sat down beside Paula.

  They were in a familiar enough place, the entry to the Spinning Department at Lanon. Max clocked in here every morning when he came to work. Every time he clocked in he looked at the time. Automatically he looked at the time now: 23:25.

  "Why'd we come here?"

  "I asked Antonina at dinner tonight if it wanted me to take its shift for it. I go on at midnight. I thought you wouldn't mind if we walked over here early."

  "Do you buy other girls' shifts often?" he asked without much interest. "How much do you get for them?"

  "I didn't buy the shift."

  "Oh, you're just taking it as a favor."

  "That's right. I knew I'd be up tonight anyway, and Antonina always has a hard time with the first shift."

  They sat in silence. Paula's regular chewing became audible, and simultaneously Paula said, "I've got chocolate mints. Want one?"

  For the first time tonight Max realized that Paula was a remarkable girl. Mints, at this point—remarkable. He thanked it and chewed contentedly.

  They were silent again. Max turned back to troubled thoughts of Luana. After a while he couldn't keep from saying it any longer: "I can't understand her."

  Paula answered, "Stop thinking she's a mystery, Max, and you can understand her as well as you understand most people."

  This time Max turned to it in astonishment. It still sat relaxed, leaning against the wall, one arm around a knee. It didn't even look at him.

  Max was going to say, "What could you know about the subject?" but he toned it down to, "How do you know?" He waited, watching Paula.

  It chewed away at the chocolate mint, but it seemed less relaxed. "True of everybody. People are funny, but they're all just people—if you see what I mean." It was definitely a little flustered now. "Anyhow, I know Luana."

  "What?"

  "Sure. Now, why should that surprise you? We went to school together. Of course, her name wasn't Luana then." Max did not ask to hear her former name. "She was my best friend—one of my best friends."

  Why was Max surprised? Mostly because it had never occurred to him that he would ever have a friend who was a friend of Luana's. Even in his daydreams he had never thought about being close to Luana in that way. It was hard to get used to. There was something else, though.

  It was the ages. Luana seemed so magic and unattainable it was hard to think of her childhood's being within memory. But when he considered—Luana had been sixteen when she got her first contract, that he knew, and he knew she had had three pregnancies. She must be about twenty. That was just her chronological age, and it seemed like a terrible liar. Why, he was twenty, and it seemed as if Luana must have been Luana long before he was born … yet must have been under twenty-five the whole time.

  "How old are you?"

  "Just turned twenty-two."

  "You were older than Luana!"

  "A little."

  "Gee, I wonder what Luana was like as a girl?" He didn't really want to know; it was just an idea that was new and curious. He always mentioned new and curious ideas to Paula.

  "What was she like? You couldn't have told her from anybody else. She went to the same classes and played the same games. Slept in the same dormitory." Paula laughed tolerantly, and Max remembered how adolescent his question must have sounded: curiosity about life at a girls' school!

  Still it was fascinating, and he was talking to Paula so it was okay. "You knew her. All through school?"

  "From the time she entered till the time she left. I knew Marta, too; her name used to be Henrietta. And a couple of dozen other dancers. You see, I just can't think of them as particularly mysterious—any more than I could think of you as mysterious when I work with you every day. But then—" Paula blurted out, "You're a man, after all. Sometimes I think career girls are the only ones who can understand people!"

  "What do you mean?"

  "For instance—who else reads? Can you imagine anybody reading because it wanted to, except a career girl? Well, that's not fair: you read. You're unusual. You haven't had much time for it recently, though, have you?"

  "No." For a man there were more important things. To most people Max wouldn't admit that he had read at all since leaving school.

  "But the main thing is, you cut yourself off from too many people. Career girls are the only ones who don't lie to themselves, so they're the only ones who can understand people."

  Max didn't follow this at all.

  Paula mused, "Here I go, though, lying to myself. We're cut off from people, too … We don't get to take care of children, the way the women do."

  It sounded actually unhappy! This stopped Max with surprise for a moment; but he went ahead and retorted, "Well, if you understand people so much better than I do, tell me: How does Luana choose who to dance with? Or … who to jaypee? Explain that if you can." He felt downright resentful. Of Paula or Luana?

  Paula stood up and paced back and forth a couple of times; its face was worried. It spread its
hands. "I think I understand, Max, but it's not simple."

  "Well, just tell me this: What possible reason could she have for jaypeeing a guy who's been a follower only one night? If she wanted to choose him, at least she could have waited till he'd been up front a decent period—a couple of weeks anyway."

  "Oh, Jim was a newcomer, was he?" She smiled faintly. "And you've been pretty devoted to Luana, haven't you?"

  "You asked me that before. Answer my question."

  "All dancers choose newcomers sometimes, Max. If they didn't, there'd be no excitement for men who had just started sitting up front. They'd know they wouldn't be noticed till they'd waited out a couple of weeks—at least with a popular dancer like Luana. They might even stop coming before the couple of weeks were up. A dancer has to keep attendance up, or the promoter will complain."

  "But—how could Luana—"

  "How could she be so calculating? She should choose by the passion of the moment, is that it? I thought you wanted to understand why she chooses who she does; now you want a reason you can't understand." Paula sat down again and added less combatively, "I don't know. Probably whim comes in, too. I wouldn't be surprised." It gave itself another mint.

  Max was still arguing. "Have you ever seen Luana since she became a dancer?"

  "Yes, once."

  "When?"

  "Three years ago."

  "So she'd only started then. You're not such a friend of hers. If you went down there to talk over old times, I bet she'd have Mabel throw you out."

  "Hm. As a matter of fact, she might. Luana didn't follow my advice. Maybe she feels bad about it, one way or the other."

  Luana, follow Paula's advice? Naturally not. Max didn't even interrupt his argument. "So you've hardly seen her since she was a girl, and you couldn't even talk to her now—how do you know so much about how she thinks? After all, Paula, there's a whole area of experience that you don't have anything to do with, that's very important to Luana." Not to mention Max.

  "That's true," said Paula in a very small voice.

  "All right, then how can you say—" He looked at Paula's soft face and stopped.