('I grok his thirst ')
('Can you see him?') Jill stared straight into the customer's eyes and gave him a warm smile? not alone to increase his interest in her but also to let Mike use her eyes, if possible. As her grokking of Martian thought had increased and as they had grown steadily closer in other ways they had begun to be able to use this common Martian convenience. Not fully as yet, but with increasing ease - Jill had no control over it; Mike could see through her eyes simply by calling to her, she could see through his only if he gave it his attention.
('We grok him together,' Mike agreed. ('Great thirst for my little brother.')
('!!!!')
('Yes. Beautiful agony.')
A music cue told Jill to break her pose and resume her slow strut. She did so, moving with proud sensuousness and feeling lust boil up in herself in response to emotions she was getting both from Mike and from the stranger. The routine caused her to walk away from Mike and almost toward the rutty little stranger, approaching him during her first few steps. She continued to lock eyes with him.
At which point something happened which was totally unexpected to her because Mike had never explained that it was possible. She had been letting herself receive as much as possible of the stranger's emotions, intentionally teasing him with eyes and body, and relaying what she felt from him back to Mike - when suddenly the circuit was completed and she was looking at herself, seeing herself through strange eyes, much more lavish than she considered herself to be - and feeling the primitive need with which that stranger saw her.
Blindly she stumbled and would have fallen flat had not Mike instantly sensed her hazard, caught her, lifted her, straightened her up, and steadied her until she could walk unassisted, second-sight gone.
The parade of beauties continued on through exit. Once off stage the girl behind her said, 'What the devil happened to you, Jill?'
'Caught my heel.'
'Happens. But that was the wildest recovery I ever saw. For a second there you looked like a puppet on strings.'
(-and so I was, dear, and so I was! But we won't go into that.) 'I'm going to ask the stage manager to check that spot. I think there's a loose board. A gal could break her leg.'
For the rest of the show whenever she was on stage Mike gave her quick glimpses of how she looked to various men while always making sure that she was not again taken by surprise. Jill was amazed to discover how varied were their images of her: one noticed only her legs, another seemed fascinated by the undulations of her torso, a third saw only her proud bosom. Then Mike, warning her first, let her look at other girls in the tableaux. She was relieved to find that Mike saw them as she saw them - but sharper.
But she was amazed to find that her own excitement did not diminish as she looked at, second hand, the girls around her; it increased.
Mike left promptly at the finale, ducking out ahead of the crowd as she had warned him to do, She did not expect to see him again that night since he had asked for relief from his job as croupier only long enough to see his wife in her show. But when she dressed and returned to their hotel room, she felt him inside before she reached the room.
The door opened for her, she stepped inside, it closed behind her. 'Hello, darling!' she called out. 'How nice you came home!'
He smiled gently. 'I now grok naughty pictures.' Her clothes vanished. 'Make naughty pictures.'
'Huh? Yes, dear, of course.' She ran through much the same poses she had earlier in the day. With each one, as soon as she was in it, Mike let her use his eyes to see herself. She looked at herself and felt his emotions and felt her own swell in response in a closed and mutually amplified re-echoing. At last she placed herself in a pose as randily carefree as her imagination could devise.
'Naughty pictures are a great goodness,' Mike said gravely.
'Yes! And now I grok them, too! What are you waiting for?'
They quit their jobs and for the next several days saw as many of the revues as possible, during which period Jill made still another discovery: she 'grokked naughty pictures' only through a man's eyes. If Mike watched, she caught and shared his mood, from quiet sensuous pleasure in a beautiful woman to fully aroused excitement at times - but if Mike's attention was elsewhere, the model, dancer, or peeler was just another woman to Jill, possibly pleasant to look at but in no wise exciting. She was likely to get bored and wish mildly that Mike would take her home. But only mildly for she was now nearly as patient as he was.
She pondered this new fact from all sides and decided that she preferred not to be excited by women other than through his eyes. One man gave her all the problems she could handle and more - to have discovered in herself unsuspected latent lesbian tendencies would have been entirely too much.
But it certainly was a lot of fun - 'a great goodness' - to see those girls through his eyes as he had now learned to see them - and a still greater, ecstatic goodness to know that, at last, he looked at her herself in the same way? only more so.
They stopped in Palo Alto long enough for Mike to try (and fail to) swallow all the Hoover Library in mammoth gulps. The task was mechanically impossible; the scanners could not spin that fast, nor could Mike turn pages of bound books fast enough to read them all. He gave up and admitted that he was taking in raw data much faster than he could grok it, even by spending all hours the library was closed in solitary contemplation. With relief Jill moved them to San Francisco and he embarked on a more systematic search.
She came back to their flat one day to find him sitting, not in trance but doing nothing, and surrounded by books - many books: The Talmud, the Kama Sutra, Bibles in various versions, the Book of the Dead, the Book of Mormon, Patty's precious copy of the New Revelation, Apocrypha of various sorts, the Koran, the unabridged Golden Bough, The Way, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, the sacred writings of a dozen other religions major and minor - even such deviant oddities as Crowley's Book of the Law.
'Trouble, dear?'
'Jill, I don't grok.' He waved his hand at the books. ('Waiting, Michael Waiting for fullness is- ')
'I don't think waiting will ever fill it. Oh, I know what's wrong; I'm not really a man, I'm a Martian - a Martian in a body of the wrong shape.'
'You're plenty of man for me, dear - and I love the way your body is shaped.'
'Oh, you grok what I'm talking about. I don't grok people. I don't understand this multiplicity of religions. Now among my people-'
'Your people, Mike?'
'Sorry. I should have said that, among the Martians, there is only one religion - and that one is not a faith, it's a certainty. You grok it. 'Thou art God!'
'Yes,' she agreed. 'I do grok? in Martian. But you know, dearest, that it doesn't say the same thing in English? or any other human speech. I don't know why.'
'Mmmm? on Mars, when we needed to know anything - anything at all - we could consult the Old Ones and the answer was never wrong. Jill, is it possible that we humans don't have any 'Old Ones?' No souls, that has to mean. When we discorporate - die! - do we die dead? die all over and nothing left? Do we live in ignorance because it doesn't matter? Because we are gone and not a rack behind in a time so short that a Martian would use it for one long contemplation? Tell me, Jill. You're human.'
She smiled with sober serenity. 'You yourself have told me. You have taught me to know eternity and you can't take it away from me, ever. You can't die, Mike - you can only discorporate.' She gestured down at herself with both hands. 'This body that you have taught me to see through your eyes? and that you have loved so well, someday it will be gone. But I shall not be gone? I am that I am! Thou art God and I am God and we are God, eternally. I am not sure where I will be, or whether I will remember that I was once Jill Boardman who was happy trotting bedpans and equally happy strutting her stuff in her buff under bright lights. I have liked this body-'
With a most uncustomary gesture of impatience Mike threw away her clothes.
'Thank you, dear,' she said quietly, not stirring from where she was seated. 'It has been a nice body to me - and to you - to both of us who thought of it. But I don't expect to miss it when I am through with it. I hope that you will eat it when I discorporate.'
'Oh, I'll eat you, all right - unless I discorporate first.'
'I don't suppose that you will. With your much greater control over your sweet body I suspect that you can live several centuries at least. If you wish it. Unless you choose to discorporate sooner.'
