Exploiting The Underfoot



The night after her party, I was playing with the Rubik’s Cube at the desk in my bedroom. I found that you could unscrew one face of the cube and all the individual pieces would fall out.

“Now, some people,” I said in a lecturing tone, “would use this knowledge to cheat. To ‘solve’ a cube by taking it a part and rebuilding it in the proper configuration.”

“But not you,” Electra said. She was sitting on my clock radio in her kimono, just relaxing in my company.

“No. See, what I want to do is get TWO cubes, and scramble the pieces.”

“Then it couldn’t be solved,” she said. It wasn’t ‘she protested.’ She just observed that fact.

“Exactly,” I said. “I’d keep them around until someone said ‘I can solve the cube in under ten minutes’ or whatever, then toss them the special cube and say, ‘prove it.’”

“You really hate intellectuals, don’t you?” she asked.

“Not at all, Electra,” I said. “I’m comfortable with the fact that so very many people are smarter than I am. It’s the pompous ones that need to be deflated like a balloon.”

“As a favor to humanity.”

“It is a moral imperative,” I said.

“Where the HELL did you learn that phrase?”

“I think Shaggy said it to Scooby…” I guessed. “Something about finishing all the pickles in the jar before the ghost came back.” She laughed.

We sat for a minute, smiling at each other. I reassembled the cube (completed, of course). Then she asked, “So what do you want for your birthday?”

“Well, obviously, another Rubik’s Cube.”

“Besides that,” she said, still smiling.

I glanced off into the distance. “I wonder if I could talk the folks into dinner down in Bear Lake. We have all those coupons…”

Electra was not offended or scandalized. She just leaned forward and asked, “Is that really something you want?”

“Not really,” I admitted. She cocked her head to one side, questioning. “No. See, I could never just sit and watch you…perform… on one of those things.

“And I can’t really see sitting there, watching a sex show dessert, with you in my pocket.”

“Leave me at home,” she said frankly.

“Still won’t work,” I said. She hopped down from the radio to walk over and lean on my wrist. “Well, other people order a passion cake and there are a number of sylphs available. They pick the ones they want to see rolling around in the frosting.”

“Uh huh….”

“I’d… I’d be the guy asking the female sylphs if they’re heterosexual, and if they find the guy my dining partner picked attractive.” She laughed. “Yeah, I’d totally embarrass myself and my date.”

“What? You think caring about other people’s feeling is embarrassing?”

“It is when they’re not supposed to matter,” I said. I scooped her up and held her sitting in the palm of my hand. I leaned back. “However, knowing you, and watching you treat all your guests as real people, I’m forever scarred.”

“Ah. I’ve crippled your ability to exploit Underfoot Americans?”

“Yeah.” I stroked her back, noting that the silk of her robe was really, really soft. “Unless… Well if you WANTED to be exploited, I could find it in my heart to be an enabler.”

“Thanks but no thanks,” she giggled.

“Juuuuuuuuuuuust want you to know, if you ever wanted to ride the low hard one, I would be in your corner.”

“You JUST said you couldn’t watch me do that!” she protested.

“Yeah, but I meant, I couldn’t set you down and order you to fulfill my fantasies. But if you were to ask, and you got to pick the guy, and I got to lick you clean…”

“Ah. So, it’s still a matter of respecting my decisions,” she nodded.

“Totally. It’s all respect. Nothing but respect. R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to Electra, Take Care, T-C-E.”

“If you sock it to me,” she laughed, “I’ll tell your mom.”

“That would be bad,” I agreed.

“Then I’ll tell Chrissy. She’ll get Chip to beat you up.”

“Chip? Why would Chrissy have someone else do it? OH! Yeah, you sylphed before we met Chrissy. She’s never hit YOU. Trust me, she doesn’t need to subcontract the hit.” I shuddered. “She only needs Chip for an alibi.”



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Index

50. Electra's Party

52. People Are Scum