Naked Came the Stranger - By Penelope Ashe Page 0,25

in the suburbs nowadays. Gilly: That's true. But even then, you can't always judge a book by its cover.

Billy: Well, all I can say is that some of them, the ones with super-long hair and sandals, have some pretty unappealing covers.

Gilly: Perhaps, but I can remember what it was like when I was in college. We weren't all angels.

Billy: You were, dear. I'm sure you've always been an angel.

Gilly: Well, it's nice of you to think so.

Billy: Seriously, sweetheart, some of these kids today are frightening. Take sexual promiscuity, for instance.

Gilly: Yes, I know what you mean. But I think you're generalizing.

Billy: I'm not so sure.

Gilly: 1 still think most young people are terribly stimulating.

ARTHUR FRANHOP

Raina Franhop slipped the amphetamine tablet into Cat's water bowl with the sincere hope that it would compensate for his waning sex life. (Domestic animals, of course, were not permitted to run free in the unincorporated village of King's Neck and, on his last excursion into the great outdoors, Cat had attempted to mount a gray squirrel, only to be severely rebuffed.) The drug took effect immediately. Unfortunately, Cat overreacted. He sped from one end of the living room to the other, banging his head noisily against the wallboard to mark the end of each lap. Arthur Franhop could not help hut notice that Cat was caught up in an orgasm of ecstasy.

"Barbaric!" he screamed.

"Hypocrite!" she screamed back.

Raina realized that Arthur's concern was over the loss of the pill, not for the well-being of her beloved Cat. And, all too true, it was becoming harder and harder to score safely. But they still had the twenty pounds of Acapulco Gold they had smuggled out of Mexico in whimsically painted Christmas balls, and Arthur had no right to blow his cool over one lousy goofball.

What really upset Raina was being called barbaric. She did not like, and she did not need, to he reminded of it. Often she felt that she was just about to slip over the edge of humanity into an abyss of pure violence. During a recent LSD session she had been transformed into a banzai-shouting, teeth-baring maniac; she still wasn't sure she had returned safely from that particular trip.

Eventually Cat slowed down and collapsed. By that time, Arthur and Raina were lying nude on the Mexican serape reading the East Village Other and some lesser publications.

"Here's one," Arthur said. "Pretty groovy. 'Housewife, 42, interested in chains. Formal practical nurse, has knowledge of piercing. Willing to oblige women in particular.' Interesting."

"Yes, but her address is Kenosha, Wisconsin." Raina said, reading over his shoulder. "You don't have the bread to bring her all the way out here."

Raina never neglected an opportunity to mention Arthur's relative poverty. Her father had paid twenty-eight thousand dollars for the split-level home on the outskirts of King's Neck – quite likely with the hope that a material possession, especially one in the world capital of material possessions, would give them some sense of responsibility. Possibly even push them into formal marriage. (Though they shared Arthur's last name, the marriage ceremony had never been performed by a lawfully appointed official – it was sanctified by a bearded nineteen-year-old Zen-reader during a monthly meeting of the Los Angeles chapter of the League for Sexual Freedom.) At any rate, Raina liked to keep reminding Arthur that, even if she wasn't indispensable to him, her father's money was.

Arthur ignored it. He had a great ability to hear only the things that really interested him.

"Okay, here's something even better," he said. " 'Father and mother, both 32, with son, 12, and daughter 8.' It goes on to say they raise muskrats but they're very interested in leather, especially boots."

"Leather, for God's sake," she said. "Don't you think that's a little passé? And look at the address. Taos, New Mexico. How would you figure on getting there?"

"Hey, do you think they're Indians?"

Arthur brightened for a moment. His experience up to this point had been strictly with Negroes and whites. He wanted some Orientals to round out the picture, but Indians – Jesus, they'd be something else. He stared at Raina. That long, straight black hair. A little snarled, maybe, and most Indian women kept their hair in tight, neat braids. But it was passable. Hell, more than passable. It would do. And those dangling silver earrings. They had turned her ear lobes black, but even that gave it a touch of authenticity. Not too many bathtubs around those little Indian villages. Yeah, she'd do. For