"Will do." For all the thousands of times I'd been through this antiseptic drill, I was happy to know that a lifeguard was suited up above our poisonous bathtub, ready to fish either of us out should our suits spring a leak. If formaldehyde-methanol started seeping into my chastity-suit, I knew I'd have an overwhelming desire to undress.
Dr. McQueen cleared his throat, a sound which broadcast very like a growl. "Okay, Johnny. Let's have a synopsis of your Sunday outing."
"It's springtime, Chief," I said. "You know what the month of May does to a young man's fancy, and reticuloendothelial system, and all."
"I wish you'd stop seeing her," the Chief said. "You've got fifteen of the most nubile girls in the Midwest living in the Big Tank with you. Sweet, intelligent—available. So why did you have to get the hots for an outsider?"
"It's that ol' debbil incest-taboo, Chief," I said. "I've slept amongst those fifteen canned peaches for the last twenty-three years. The result is that my warmest feeling toward any of them is brotherly love. Who itches to shack with a sibling?"
"Your only alternative seems to be a lifetime of cold showers," McQueen said. "Speaking of canned peaches, have you seen Mary deWitte today?"
"No."
"Mary has extramural interests, too," he said. "Her intended is a basketball player in pre-Law. A fellow roughly fifteen feet tall. Mary has been gone all day. I presume that she's been visiting this legal obelisk; and I'm beginning to feel the twinges of fatherly anxiety. But tell me about Anne, Johnny."
"I met her at a concert last fall," I said, not giving a damn about the safety man and the monitor kibitzing. "Anne didn't bug at my chastity-suit the way most of the hens on campus do. This impressed me. She liked the way I talked, even though she could hear my voice only from the speaker on the chest of my suit. I liked fine the way she listened. So we had a date. Lots of dates. Said goodnight by shaking hands—Please Excuse My Glove.