Stranger in a Strange Land

She discussed it with Mike, tried to explain her changed viewpoint—not easy, since Mike could not understand why Jill had ever minded being looked at, at any time, by anyone. Not wishing to be touched he understood; Mike avoided shaking hands if he could do so without offense, he wanted to touch and be touched only by water brothers (Jill wasn’t sure just how far this included male water brothers in Mike’s mind; she had explained homosexuality to him, after he had read about it and failed to grok it—and had given him practical rules for avoiding even the appearance thereof and how to keep such passes from being made at him, since she assumed correctly that Mike, pretty as he was, would attract such passes. He had followed her advice and had set about making his face more masculine, instead of the androgynous beauty he had first had. Nevertheless Jill was not sure that Mike would refuse such an invitation from, say, Duke—but fortunately Mike’s male water brothers were all decidedly masculine men, just as his others were very female women. Jill hoped that it would stay that way; she suspected that Mike would grok a “wrongness” in the poor in-betweeners anyhow—they would never be offered water.)

Nor could Mike understand why it now pleased her to be stared at. The only time when their two attitudes had been even roughly similar had been as they left the carnival, when Jill had discovered that she had become indifferent to stares—willing to do their act “stark naked,” as she had told Patty, if it would help.

Jill saw that her present self-knowledge had been nascent at that point; she had never been truly indifferent to masculine stares. Under the unique necessities of adjusting to life with the Man from Mars she had been forced to shuck off part of her artificial, training-imposed persona, that degree of lady-like prissiness a nurse can retain despite the rigors of an unusually no-nonsense profession. But Jill hadn’t known that she had any prissiness to lose until she lost it.

Of course, Jill was even more of a “lady” than ever—but she preferred to think of herself as a “gent.” But she was no longer able to conceal from her conscious mind (nor had any wish to) that there was something inside her as happily shameless as a tabby in heat going into her belly dance for the enticement of the neighborhood toms.

She tried to explain all this to Mike, giving him her theory of the complementary and functional nature of narcissist display and voyeurism, with herself and Duke as clinical examples. “The truth is, Mike, that I find I get a real kick out of having all those men stare at me… lots of men and almost any man. So now I grok why Duke likes to have lots of pictures of women, the sexier the better. Same thing, only in reverse. It doesn’t mean that I want to go to bed with them, any more than Duke wants to go to bed with a photograph—shucks, dearest, I don’t even want to say hello to them. But when they look at me and tell me—think at me—that I’m desirable, it gives me a tingle, a warm pleasant feeling right in my middle.” She frowned slightly. “You know, I think I ought to get a real naughty picture taken of me and send it to Duke. Just to tell him that I’m sorry I snooted him and failed to grok what I thought was a weakness in him. If it’s a weakness, I’ve got it, too—but girl style. If it is a weakness—but I grok it isn’t.”

“All right. We’ll find a photographer in the morning.”

She shook her head. “I’ll simply apologize to Duke the next time we go home, I wouldn’t actually send such a picture to Duke. He has never made a pass at me—and I don’t want him getting ideas.”

“Jill, you would not want Duke?”

She heard an echo of “water brother” in his mind. “Hmm, truthfully I’ve never really thought about it. I guess I’ve been ‘being faithful’ to you—not that it has been an effort. But I grok you speak rightly; I wouldn’t turn Duke down—and I would enjoy it, too. What do you think of that, darling?”

“I grok a goodness,” Mike said seriously.

“Hmm… my gallant Martian, there are times when we human females appreciate at least a semblance of jealousy—but I don’t think there is the slightest chance that you will ever grok ‘jealousy.’ Darling, what would you grok if one of those marks—those men in the audience, not a water brother—made a pass at me?”

Mike barely smiled. “I grok he would be missing.”

“Mmm… I grok he might be, too. But, Mike—listen to me carefully, dear. You promised me that you wouldn’t do anything of that sort except in utter emergency. So don’t be hasty. If you hear me scream and shout, and reach into my mind and know that I’m in real trouble, that’s another matter. But I was coping with wolves when you were still on Mars. Nine times out often, if a girl gets raped, it’s at least partly her own fault. That tenth time—well, all right. Give him your best heave-ho to the bottomless pit. But you aren’t going to find it necessary.”

“All right, I will remember. I wish you were sending that naughty picture to Duke.”