d, had
gone out on their backs during their first day in Puerto Pacifico?

* * * * *

Pembroke shaved, showered, and put on the new suit and shirt he had
bought. Then he took Mary Ann, the woman he had met on the beach, out to
dinner. She would look magnificent even when fully clothed, he decided,
and the pale chartreuse gown she wore hardly placed her in that
category. Her conversation seemed considerably more normal after the
other denizens of Puerto Pacifico Pembroke had listened to that
afternoon.

After eating they danced for an hour, had a few more drinks, then went
to Pembroke's room. He still knew nothing about her and had almost
exhausted his critical capabilities, but not once had she become annoyed
with him. She seemed to devour every factual point of imperfection about
herself that Pembroke brought to her attention. And, fantastically
enough, she actually appeared to have overcome every little imperfection
he had been able to communicate to her.

It was in the privacy of his room that Pembroke became aware of just how
perfect, physically, Mary Ann was. Too perfect. No freckles or moles
anywhere on the visible surface of her brown skin, which was more than a
mere sampling. Furthermore, her face and body were meticulously
symmetrical. And she seemed to be wholly ambidextrous.

"With so many beautiful women in Puerto Pacifico," said Pembroke
probingly, "I find it hard to understand why there are so few children."

"Yes, children are decorative, aren't they," said Mary Ann. "I do wish
there were more of them."

"Why not have a couple of your own?" he asked.

"Oh, they're only given to maternal types. I'd never get one. Anyway, I
won't ever marry," she said. "I'm the paramour type."

It was obvious that the liquor had been having some effect. Either that,
or she had a basic flaw of loquacity that no one else had discovered.
Pembroke decided he would have to cover his tracks carefully.

"What type am I?" he asked.

"Silly, you're real. You're not a type at all."

"Mary Ann, I love you very much," Pembroke murmured, gambling
everything on this one throw. "When you go to Earth I'll miss you
terribly."

"Oh, but you'll be dead by then," she pouted. "So I mustn't fall in love
with you. I don't want to be miserable."

"If I pretended I was one of you, if I left on the boat with you, they'd
let me go to Earth with you. Wouldn't they?"

"Oh, yes, I'm sure they would."