It's Whats Up Front That Counts by Troy Conway

Author:Troy Conway [CONWAY, TROY]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Erotica, FIC005000
ISBN: 9780446543163
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 1969-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully. I spent my time organizing the crew of administrative assistants The Big Prig had placed at my disposal for the proposed study of the connection, if any, between the free dissemination of erotic literature and sexual permissiveness in contemporary London. The crew consisted of frumpy Gretchen Stark, who was its captain, and six girls ranging in age from twenty-two to twenty-five and ranging in appearance from just-plain-unattractive to downright-hideous. I naturally would have preferred a more comely group, but I had to admit that the present situation wasn’t without its advantages: at least I was able to keep my mind on my work. I can’t recall ever accomplishing so much in such little time.

For lunch I was the guest of Lord and Lady Brice-Bennington. Lord B-B, I found, was a stiff-upper-lip sort who evidently operated under the assumption that table conversation shouldn’t involve any topic more controversial than the weather or yesterday’s soccer scores. I tried to draw him into a chat about the upcoming election, but he deftly sidestepped the subject. I also tried to sound him out on his wife’s pet project, the proposed sexual reformation of England; but he wouldn’t talk about that either.

Lady B-B, for her part, was equally taciturn. While she apparently had no qualms about discussing sex with me privately, she was the picture of rectitude in the presence of her hubby. I got the impression that sex was a word which never passed between them. Their idea of an exciting night in bed, I felt, would be a night when the B.B.C.’s equivalent of Johnny Carson told a bathroom joke and they both giggled themselves to sleep.

As lunch dragged on—and believe me, it dragged—I found myself comparing Lady B-B’s present comportment with her comportment when we had been alone together. Then she had been warm and outgoing; while she had mouthed all the antisex clichés in the book, she had nonetheless related to me on a healthy man-woman basis. Now, with Lord B-B around, she was inhibited as a mouse in a cat house. I tried to square away the image of the cowed wife with the image of the outspoken sexual reformer. I couldn’t.

After lunch we adjourned to the patio for brandy. It came as something of a surprise to me that Lord B-B drank. Judging from what I’d seen of him so far, I’d expected that he didn’t even belch, let alone indulge in one of the genuine vices.

A few minutes later I was in for surprise number two: he also smoked. As we sat looking out at the multi-acre expanse of rolling hills that constituted his back yard, he took a package of cigarette papers from one pocket, a pouch of tobacco from the other and deftly rolled his own.

We chatted for a while about such fascinating matters as the differences between the British and the American use of the article “an” and the relative merits and demerits of French versus Italian brands of mineral water.

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