“And what brought you here?” Danty said.

So she told him: words flooding out, tumbling over each other, confusing the argument she wanted to frame, until she was certain he must think her mentally deranged. Yet he sat there, and nodded now and then, and heard her out.

He said eventually, “You like to night-ride, I guess.”

“Oh, yes!” (Black sky, black road, the universe condensed to a pattern of lights, the ever-present expectation -hope?-of “instant death”: just add blood.)

“Yes.” Nodding. “It's the idea of going somewhere. To look for something you might not recognize if you found it. Only the places you most want to go, they won't let you.”

She was about to say that was exactly what she felt, when she realized with a pang of shame that she'd clean forgotten to tell him something very important. “Danty! Oh, Jesus! I didn't thank you.” “Not to worry.”

“But-1” Now she was shaking all over again, from a different cause. “But you must think I'm awful! And it was fantastic what you did, really incredible Danty, you're kind of a terrific personal”

“I'm myself,” he said, and drained his glass.

“But--oh, shit!” Well, it was the only way she knew to say thanks properly, so with her hand hovering over her crotch-zip: “Do you have somewhere we could . . . ? You know!”

“Place but not time. Thanks all the same. Shall I show you to a hoverhalt?” Making to rise.

No, it can't stop here! 1 mean: SAVED MY LIFE! “No, wait” Mind racing. And then inspiration. Oh, yes! lust the right bit to blow the minds, turn up with a black reb! “Hey, look! We have this big party for tomorrow night, this real stand-up-and-grin-if-it-chokes-you affair Can I send you an invitation? I mean-oh, Danty, I do want to see you again!”

He nodded and settled back in his seat, pulling a pen from his pocket.

“Why not? Here's my address, inasmuch as I have one.”

Feeling almost ashamed of herself because she hadn't been this excited about a party for years. Lora took ,` special care before her mirror, selecting her best makeup and perfume, then deliberately putting on a dress her father hated. a harlequin rig of lozenge-shaped bits of cloth tacked together only at the corners, which showed as much of her as it concealed.

No doubt that meant that some of Dad's friends would try to feel her up. and she didn't intend to put out for reeky old turds like them. but if Danty did show . . .

“Here's my address, inasmuch as I have one.” Wow.

The house-phone rang. It was her mother.

“Lora honey. would you fix me a drink?”

She stamped her small foot. “Can't you send Estelle?”

“Well, she's fixing my hair right now.”

“Oh . . . 1 Oh, all right.” In a sullen tone. But she was all through dressing, and Peter might show up any minute, . so getting out of the room was not a bad idea-

And here he came, panicking starting to throw his outdoor clothes all over everywhere as usual. She headed promptly for the door.

“Don't let me drive you out, sister mine!” he exclaimed. “You saw me take my pants off before. didn't you?”.

“Going to fix Mom a drink.” Lora said, sweeping by.

“Me too!” Peter cried. “I'm in a rush!”

“That's your fault,” Lora snapped. and strode away.

The nearest liquor cabinet was in her father's room. The room was empty. She mixed a gin atomic for her mother and a weak Bloody Mary for herself, and went ` next door where Mrs. Turpin sat naked at her mirror while her French-Canadian maid set out accessories to go with her radion gown.

“Thanks, honey.” she said in a strangled tone due to the need to let her lip-shade dry without wrinkling. “Put a straw in it for me, Estelle!”

“Mind if I drink mine here?” Lora said. “If I go back in my room Peter will grab it. And by the way!” “Yes?”

“You couldn't arrange to have his drinks watered tonight, could you? He's bad enough sober. When he's drunk-Christi”

“Oh, he won't try and rape you, if that's what you mean,” her mother said calmly.

“Mom! That's beyond joking” Lora gasped.

“Unfortunately it is. But the fact stands: You're a girl. And, come to think of it, you seem to want everyone to be absolutely certain. Are you seriously going to wear that bunch of rags, if you can call it wearing?”

“Why not?” With a gulp of her drink.

“Well, your father-but I guess that's why you put it on. More important, I asked Rev. Powell to be here sharp on time, and I don't want him to see you dressed like a whore.”

“Don't make me laugh He made a pass at me last time he was here, the slimy slug”

“Well, he doesn't pretend to be above temptation that's one reason people like him. But don't let me hear you call him a slug again, understand? Or I'll forget you're eighteen and whop you blue. I won't have you badmouthing a minister. And one more thing Don't spend the evening like you usually do, moping around some plastic headed boy. Mix Talk to people-”

“I'll spend the whole radiated night with anyone I choose,” Lora said, and slammed the door.

After that, she didn't really want to join the line-up at the entrance to the party hall. That was a room about sixty feet by eighty, shared between their apartment and the next; there was one on each floor of the tower, and doors off it were unlocked according to which family were the hosts.

But she was afraid of missing Danty if she didn't.

So she waited until her father was busy greeting an early guest, then darted into a spot beside Holtzer, thinking that even if Dad did want to slang her for wearing this dress he'd hardly do so in a stranger's hearing. She was right, and escaped with a mere scowl.

Holtzer, on the other hand, looked her over thoughtfully and at leisure, and said at last, “You look lovely, Lora.”

“Well, thank you,” she murmured, because he'd said it

in a tone that made her believe it. She relaxed-but only for a heartbeat or two, because here suddenly came Peter in a hideous party-suit of yellow lace and stinking to the sky. He rushed to his mother, lying about how he hadn't been able to get ready sooner because his reeky sister was underfoot, but Mrs. Turpin was used to that and froze him fast.

“It's your preening and primping that takes the time!” she snapped. “Get yourself a drink and shut up!”

Instantly furious, Peter was about to scream back at her, but that was the moment when Rev. Powell arrived: a fine-looking man with a commanding presence that had made him the highest-paid TV evangelist in history. And of course, Peter pounced on him.

Well, that's one way of avoiding the two people 1 least want on my back . . . . Lora sighed, and found Holtzer looking at her again. This time he winked, and she grinned back. Good to know there was one other person here who wasn't dazzled by this parade of notables, these generals, admirals, senators, TV stars, and other slugs. Plus, naturally, the whole of the EG board.

But she had to be polite, for the time being.

The crush increased tremendously within minutes. Even in Lakonia, people had got out of the habit of arriving at parties late and staying late. Going home after midnight wasn't as risky here as in New York, Washington, or L.A.-where most parties nowadays were held in the afternoon-but the pattern was contagious.

Abruptly the racket of conversation dwindled to a buzz, and Sheklov, surprised, glanced towards the door. Two men with blue jowls and stern expressions were coming in. They ignored the host and hostess, but walked silently around the assembly, sharp eyes piercing and probing.

“Well” someone he didn't know said beside Sheklov. “So Prexy is coming!”

“How do you-?” Sheklov began, and then put two and two together. “Oh. Secret Service?” A chill touched his nape.

“Yes,” the stranger said importantly. “Those are Crashaw and Levitt. They're alleged to have by heart the entire CIA and FBI files on subversives. See how tense the Turpin girl is? Worried in case they tell Prexy not to come in”