Ants at BEES - Cover

Ants at BEES

Copyright© 2010 by Peter H. Salus

Chapter 5

I was back at the Museum on Monday. It had been a very strange weekend. No. More than just very strange. I had had Jenny drop me off on campus.

"Did I come on too strong?"

"Not at all. It's just that tonight's already taken. Give me your number. I'll call."

She gave it to me. "Not too early. My flatmates like to sleep in."

"Eleven?"

"Should be fine." She gave me another kiss, I got my portfolio from the rear seat and I watched her drive off. I walked home and went upstairs after saying hello. I took a long shower and got the salt out of my hair. I dried myself off and called Diana. This time she was in. No, she wasn't busy. No, she hadn't had dinner. Yes, she liked Chinese. Yes, I liked hot food. She said she'd meet me at Chairman Mao, 189 Anzac Parade in three-quarters of an hour. [This restaurant had wonderful Hunanese food. It is now "permanently closed."]

I got fully dressed and went downstairs after a few minutes chit-chat, I left. The 4x4 started right away and I maneuvered onto Anzac Parade and northwest. I parked and walked to 189. Diana strolled up a few minutes later. She was wearing very tight jeans and a tee shirt.

"Waiting long?"

"Not five minutes. You look lovely."

"Thank you, kind sir. Let's get seated."

I roused myself from my reverie and moved to another case – Calomyrmex – this'll take a lot of time. In fact, I wasn't certain how I could do the job. There are over a dozen species and it looked as though there were workers and queens for all of them. And alates for some. The differences aren't enormous, and there's no way I could put them under a microscope. I'd have to ask. The differences between Jenny and Diana were more obvious.

Dinner with Diana had been very, very pleasant. Great conversation. Really wonderful food. And the service was slow, so we had lots of time to talk. I walked her to her car, got a kiss, promised to call "soon." She was what Mum would call "a nice girl."

Jenny wasn't.

I called her around 11 on Saturday morning. She invited me for "brekker." I didn't tell her that I'd been up for hours, had gone for a five klick jog, showered and read parts of Wilson and Holldobler. It wasn't far to the address she gave me – a hi-rise near Meeks and Anzac. I rang the bell and a female voice said to "come on up." When I got to the door I knocked and it was opened by a tall woman in one of those short Japanese gowns. It came to about 20cm. above her knees.

"C'mon it. I'm Winnie. You must be Gordy. Jenny's drying her hair. I've no notion where Karen is. Want some tea? Or coffee?"

"Whatever's going. Yes, I'm Gordy."

She swished away in a display of tanned thighs. A voice called: "Who is it?"

"Jenny's beau from the beach," Winnie responded.

"Oooh, gotta see!"

The door opened and a plump – not fat – redhead emerged. Totally nude! She came over and looked me up and down. "Very nice. But why the wrapping paper?"

"Eh?"

"The clothes! If you were on the beach, you were bare. We're bare most of the time here. C'mon, shed 'em."

I was quite startled. I wasn't shy, but this ... this was way more than I'd experienced. And now Jenny came out wearing a terry turban on her (presumeably) wet hair and nothing else.

"Hey, Gordy!" She glanced at my groin. "I can see you're pleased to be here. Winnie! Come join us!" And Winnie emerged from the kitchen, shrugging off her gown.

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