She Knew He Was Coming Part 1

She Knew He Was Coming.

by Kris Neville.

Outside, the bluish sun slanted low across the green dust of the Martian desert, its last rays sparkling on the far mountain tops. One by one, lights flickered on in the city.

"Mary must be expecting that Earthman," Anne said. She held her glastic blouse tight together over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and leaned a little out of the window.

Milly nodded. "The _Azmuth_ landed this morning."

The noises of commerce were fading. From the window Anne saw the neon blaze up over the door. For the thousandth time she blinked between the equivocal words: 30--BEAUTIFUL HOSTESSES--30. Laughter, dry and false, filtered up from the tea bars along the street. She looked westward, toward the s.p.a.ceport, and made out the shadowy nose of the berthed s.p.a.ce liner looming against the night. She could picture the scene--a thousand stevedores unloading cargo, refill men and native s.p.a.cewriters scurrying over the sleek hull, the Earth voyageurs shouting orders and curses.

"Maybe he isn't even on it." Anne turned from the window. She crossed to the couch and sat down, fluffing out the green crinkly gla.s.s of her skirt; pendant, multicolored birds flashed from the rings in her ears.

She tucked rosy feet under her scented body. "I don't like Earthmen,"

she said.

"They spend money."

"They make me sick," Anne said. "With their pale skins and ugly eyes and hairy bodies."

"They have strong arms."

Anne's wide, red mouth curled in distaste. "They're like a bunch of kids."

The room was lighted by soft, overhead fire. Heavy drapes hung from the walls. Sweet, spicy incense curled bluely from the burners by the window.

Before the mirror, Milly edged in the narrow line of her pink eyebrows with a pencil. She folded her lips in, rubbing them together, licked them, making them a glistening red. She pinched her cheeks.

"I wonder when they'll catch Crescent?" she said.

Anne yawned languorously. "It won't be long."

"I wouldn't want to be in her shoes," Milly said.

Anne patted her mouth lazily. "She ought to have known she couldn't run away."

"What do you think Miss Bestris will do to her?"

Anne stood up, brus.h.i.+ng out the wrinkles in her dress. "I should care."

"But what will she do?"

Anne shrugged. "Whip her, maybe. How should _I_ know?"

"Don't you feel you'd like to run away, once in a while?" Milly asked, turning to look at the other girl.

Anne laughed coldly. "I've got better sense."

"But don't you _want_ to?"

Anne tossed her purple hair. "Where is there to go? Who is there to go to?"

"Yes.... I guess you're right." Milly turned back to her reflection.

_Buzzzzzz_....

Both girls turned their heads to the b.u.t.tons on the wall. The white one was glowing.

"It's Miss Bestris."

"We'd better go," Milly said.

Together they walked down the heavily carpeted stairs to the sitting room.

The Madame was waiting. She was a large woman, rolling in creases of fat, and her pink hair was rough and clipped short. She had a pair of dimples in her cheeks and a single gold band around her right wrist. She was leaning against the piano.

"Hurry now, girls, hurry right along," she said.

More girls were entering the room; they spread out, sitting on the chairs, curling at the Madame's feet. Their eyes--amethyst, gray or golden--were on her face. Many had pink hair, others had tresses of purple or salmon.

"Now, girls, I suppose you know there's an Earth s.h.i.+p in port?"

The girls nodded.

"So I expect we'll have visitors tonight. I want you to all look your very best." She smiled at them. "Anne, why don't you wear that low-cut, orange plastic with the spangles, and June, you the prim white one? You look like an angel in it." June smiled. "And Mary...?"

"Yes, Miss Bestris?"

"Mary. Did you buy that neo-nylon I told you about?"

"No, Miss Bestris."

"Mary, Mary, Mary. I just don't understand you at all."

"I'm saving my money, Miss Bestris," Mary said intently.

"Yes, dear, I know that. We're _all_ saving our money. But we simply must look presentable. We have a reputation to hold up."

"Yes, Miss Bestris."

"Then, Mary, dear, do--do, _please_, buy yourself something decent."

"Yes, Miss Bestris. I will.... Tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, if I ..."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Child? If you what?"