Foundation and Earth

"I have not tested it. I make the judgment without feeling the need to test it. In any case, I don't particularly like her."

"Astonishing! She is what a man would consider attractive."

"Physically, she is attractive. Nevertheless, she does not appeal to me. For one thing, she is too young, too child-like in some ways."

"Do you prefer women of maturity, then?"

Trevize paused. Was there a trap here? He said cautiously, "I am old enough to value some women of maturity. And what has this to do with my ship?"

Lizalor said, "For a moment, forget your ship. I am forty-six years old, and I am not married. I have somehow been too busy to marry."

"In that case, by the rules of your society, you must have remained continent all your life. Is that why you asked how long it had been since I have had sex? Are you asking my advice in the matter? If so, I say it is not food and drink. It is uncomfortable to do without sex, but not impossible."

The Minister smiled and there was again that carnivorous look in her eyes. "Don't mistake me, Trevize. Rank has its privileges and it is possible to be discreet. I am not altogether an abstainer. Nevertheless, Comporellian men are unsatisfying. I accept the fact that morality is an absolute good, but it does tend to burden the men of this world with guilt, so that they become unadventurous, unenterprising, slow to begin, quick to conclude, and, in general, unskilled."

Trevize said, very cautiously, "There is nothing I can do about that, either."

"Are you implying that the fault may be mine? That I am uninspiring?"

Trevize raised a hand. "I don't say that at all."

"In that case, how would you react, given the opportunity? You, a man from an immoral world, who must have had a vast variety of sexual experiences of all kinds, who is under the pressure of several months of enforced abstinence even though in the constant presence of a young and charming woman. How would you react in the presence of a woman such as myself; who is the mature type you profess to like?"

Trevize said, "I would behave with the respect and decency appropriate to your rank and importance."

"Don't be a fool!" said the Minister. Her hand went to the right side of her waist. The strip of white that encircled it came loose and unwound from her chest and neck. The bodice of her black gown hung noticeably looser.

Trevize sat frozen. Had this been in her mind since-when? Or was it a bribe to accomplish what threats had not?

The bodice flipped down, along with its sturdy reinforcement at the breasts. The Minister sat there, with a look of proud disdain on her face, and bare from the waist up. Her breasts were a smaller version of the woman herself-massive, firm, and overpoweringly impressive.

"Well?" she said.

Trevize said, in all honesty, "Magnificent!"

"And what will you do about it?"

"What does morality dictate on Comporellon, Madam Lizalor?"

"What is that to a man of Terminus? What does your morality dictate? And begin. My chest is cold and wishes warmth."

Trevize stood up and began to disrobe.

Chapter 6 The Nature of Earth

22.

TREVIZE felt almost drugged, and wondered how much time had elapsed.

Beside him lay Mitza Lizalor, Minister of Transportation. She was on her stomach, head to one side, mouth open, snoring distinctly. Trevize was relieved that she was asleep. Once she woke up, he hoped she would be quite aware that she had been asleep.

Trevize longed to sleep himself, but he felt it important that he not do so. She must not wake to find him asleep. She must realize that while she had been ground down to unconsciousness, he had endured. She would expect such endurance from a Foundation-reared immoralist and, at this point, it was better she not be disappointed.

In a way, he had done well. He had guessed, correctly, that Lizalor, given her physical size and strength, her political power, her contempt for the Comporellian men she had encountered, her mingled horror and fascination with tales (what had she heard? Trevize wondered) of the sexual feats of the decadents of Terminus, would want to be dominated. She might even expect to be, without being able to express her desire and expectation.

He had acted on that belief and, to his good fortune, found he was correct. (Trevize, the ever-right, he mocked himself.) It pleased the woman and it enabled Trevize to steer activities in a direction that would tend to wear her out while leaving himself relatively untouched.

It had not been easy. She had a marvelous body (forty-six, she had said, but it would not have shamed a twenty-five-year-old athlete) and enormous stamina-a stamina exceeded only by the careless zest with which she had spent it.

Indeed, if she could be tamed and taught moderation; if practice (but could he himself survive the practice?) brought her to a better sense of her own capacities, and, even more important, his, it might be pleasant to-