"Travel? Oh, how wonderful. I would love to travel. I haven't been but a state away in my whole life. What do you do, work for a travel agency?"

He brightened and his voice took on some expression. "I do. I do advance work. I go ahead. I seek new places to take tour. People. Visit. Is this good place?"

Terri shrugged. She didn't know. "I bet you could take a tour through Olympia. They make great beer there. Then you could sort of slide through Budd. Canada's just a bit aways up north. It's supposed to be incredible."

"People are easygoing, friendly like you?"

This was getting good. He leaned closer. Now if Earl would just walk in ...

"Yes, oh, yes. Very friendly. At least the women. Like me."

"You. You are special? Women?"

Terri puffed. "Well, I think so. Not all women are ..." She thought hard. "Not all women are as warm and giving as I am."

He beamed, clapped his hands together. "Special. Good. Very good."

She got the feeling they weren't quite communicating, but he was from a foreign country and she didn't speak any language but English. And the universal language. Love. An idea was beginning to grow in her. She would just have to take advantage of this situation and seek retribution for Earl's infidelity. Definitely. The Bible came to mind. An eye for an eye. A screw for a screw.

Terri swallowed the last piece of pie and purred.

"Would you be interested in seeing the accommodations in the motel here? They are quite nice. ..." She smoothed her sweater.

"This is proposition, yes?"

This guy was blunt. She'd never been picked up by a foreigner before. Maybe they just got right to it.

"Maybe ..."

He grabbed their checks and presented Mary Ann with a roll of twenties. Both women's eyes went wide. Mary Ann took two twenties and handed him back the rest. Terri slipped behind the counter and pulled her friend close.

"Pay dirt!" She whispered.

"What if Earl comes while ..."

"You said yourself he won't show. Look. I need this. I deserve to make myself feel better any ol' way I want. I'll see Earl in the morning with a smile on my face and forgiveness in my heart. It will be worth it."

"Well, good luck. But, I dunno. I heard those little guys have little you-know-whatses. I wanna hear all the details. ..."

Terri looked smug. "I'm not worried. You should have seen his ..."

Paul took her arm and steered her out of the cafe and into the motel office. She marveled at his ease of movement, his style. If he moved like this out of bed, heavens, she could hardly stand the thrill she felt at the possibilities.

As many times as she'd eaten at the cafe, Terri had never seen the inside of the motel. Their room was off the highway. Paul opened the door and followed her in. The walls were faded puce cinder block. Over the chenille-covered double bed was a large velveteen tapestry depicting a group of dogs playing poker. That seemed to fascinate Paul. He murmured something about animals and humans while Terri flicked on the TV.

"Damn, it's scrambled. Got a quarter?"

Paul was sitting on the bed, feeling the texture of the wall. The light from the New Moon Motel sign outside cast a reddish glow over him. He blinked and looked at her.

"What, thank-you?"

"The TV is on cable. If we put money in it, we can watch it."

"I do not want TV. I come for you Terrisipes."

"Hm, maybe we could get cozy first. I'm not into quickies."

"Cozy. Is that good?"

She went to the bed and sat down beside him. She tried to reach into his leather jacket, but he pulled away. His smile faded.

"What, thank-you, is this?"

Terri put her lips to his and let her tongue slide out. His mouth hung agape. He pushed her away and stood.

"Hey, I thought you wanted me? This is too weird. First you're in a hurry, then you're cold. Maybe you need to be inspired."

She stood and slowly peeled off her sweater, then her stretch jeans. Paul seemed mesmerized. She was on to something. She took her boots off slowly, then pulled down her knee socks and flung them over her shoulder. Paul was drooling. She reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. Her breasts came tumbling out over her stomach. Paul began gasping for air. She pinched the sides of her briefs and drew them down over her hips. She turned so he could see her huge backside and bent over to lower the panties to the floor.

Paul was speechless and paralyzed with passion. He sat on the bed, his erection tenting his leather pantsuit. In fact, there were many lumps beneath the textured gray skin.

Terri waited. Nothing. Well, there was one more thing she could try.

"I'll be in the shower when you're ready, sweetie. ..." She swung her hips as she walked into the bathroom. She could hear him gurgling behind her.

The anticipation fired her adrenaline. With all the sugar and caffeine in her system, she felt like a rocket about to take off. She also felt anger at Earl. She could kill the bastard. Kill him and move to Sedona where an old boyfriend ran a convenience store. But no. She wanted to use this energy to give herself the best lay she'd had in years. ...

She turned on the water, adjusting the temperature. She tucked her permed hair into a skimpy plastic cap the motel thoughtfully provided and got in. The water felt great. The tension began to melt slightly. And she could take as long a shower as she pleased. At home, Earl got homicidal if she used up the hot water on her body, for chrissakes.

She rubbed the lilac-scented soap over her plump expanse of flesh until the lather was as thick as whipped cream. She let the warmth wash over her, the energy flow through her.

The shower door opened and Pauldor stood naked, sort of, his gray leather suit hanging off his back, his pinkish underskin glistening with sweat. Terri's eyes went to his groin. Her face brightened. He was not only well-hung, but he had almost a dozen more erections over his chest and stomach. Each one just as red and rigid as the one in his groin.

He got in and embraced her. The projections attached themselves to her with squishing suction pops. The last one slid gingerly in where it should. Terri yelped with pleasure and pain as the suction grew. Then she moved like she'd never done before. She gave it all she had. Take this Earl Sipes.

Pauldor gurgled loudly, his eyes rolling up into his head, leaving pale orbs, his hands kneading her, clawing her backside.

She was there. She howled, thankful she was not at home where Earl said everyone in the surrounding trailers could hear her. Paul gave an equally loud, but more pained sound, and the erections popped off. He stared down at his groin for a moment, seeming not to believe what he saw, then collapsed onto the shower floor.

Terri stared down at where once there had been a penis. She felt a slight burning and a cramp when the blackened flesh fell to the metal drain and washed between the slats. She put her hand to her mouth, then began to laugh. It was like she'd been stung by a bee and ... no, she shook her head. This was something else. She knew foreigners had to be different in some way.

She checked to see if he was breathing and turned off the water. She decided he just needed to rest and tiptoed out.

As she dressed she noticed the marks the suction left. They were raw, sensitive to the touch. She carefully pulled her sweater back on. The scratches on her backside hurt too. For all the pain, she felt more satisfied than she could remember. Foreigners. She'll have to tell Mary Ann about this one. Whew!

She shut the door quietly behind her and walked a little awkwardly back to the cafe.

Mary Ann was surprised to see her.

"You're back so soon. Musta been a bust."

"It was ... incredible." She sighed, radiant.

"No kidding. Well, I hope so. Earl called. He wants your ass home. Now."

"Really? Oh, this is perfect. I feel great and Earl's gonna be terrible jealous when he sees all the hickies I got. I'll see ya!"

Terri was almost outside, stopped, then turned back and grinned.

"Take good care of my friend Paul if he comes in for breakfast. He should have a hearty appetite. And by the way, not all small guys are ... you know. Some of 'em have more than you could imagine."

She winked at Mary Ann and was gone.

Mary Ann shrugged and looked at her watch. She had a break coming in twenty minutes. Maybe he would be rested by then. She would just have to go find his room. Yup. She would.

Memories serve in the genesis of most writers' stories, and this story is no different. At the age of nineteen, I hitchhiked up to Washington from Los Angeles to escape my parents' divorce. I found myself with an entire evening to kill and no place to stay. The all-night diner I stopped in to eat seemed as good a place as any to hang out until dawn, so I slipped into a booth. The drama that unfolded that night was not unlike the tale just told. This gal's name was Dandy, her runaround husband's, Bob. Her friend behind the counter, Priscilla, came around from time to time to give me unsolicited updates on the woeful condition of Dandy's marriage and state of mind. It wasn't an alien who came in and took the edge off Dandy's anger, but he was plenty strange. It was Priscilla's comment about this man that stuck in my mind and spawned this story. She said, "That guy's got to be from another planet to get involved with Dandy and her problems. "Who knows? Neither one of them ever came back in that night. ...

ROBERTA LANNES.

AND I AWOKE AND FOUND ME HERE ON THE COLD HILL'S SIDE

JAMES TIPTREE, JR.

When "And I Awoke and Found Me Here on the Cold Hill's Side" was published in 1971, it was commonly assumed that the author was male. When James Tiptree, Jr.'s, first collection Ten Thousand Light-Years from Home was published in 1973, this was still the assumption. Not until 1977 did Alice Sheldon admit that she was Tiptree, that she was born in Chicago, was the daughter of a well-known geographer and travel writer, was an experimental psychologist, and that she worked for the American government, and for some of that time in the Pentagon. Tiptree and her husband died tragically in 1987, but she left a legacy of fiction that ranged from anthropological SF to space opera and some of the most astute perceptions on male/female relationships that have been written about, including the classic reprinted here.

HE WAS STANDING ABSOLUTELY still by a service port, staring out at the belly of the Orion docking above us. He had on a gray uniform and his rusty hair was cut short. I took him for a station engineer.

That was bad for me. Newsmen strictly don't belong in the bowels of Big Junction. But in my first twenty hours I hadn't found anyplace to get a shot of an alien ship.

I turned my holocam to show its big World Media insigne and started my bit about What It Meant to the People Back Home who were paying for it all.

"-it may be routine work to you, sir, but we owe it to them to share-"

His face came around slow and tight, and his gaze passed over me from a peculiar distance.

"The wonders, the drama," he repeated dispassionately. His eyes focused on me. "You consummated fool."

"Could you tell me what races are coming in, sir? If I could even get a view-"

He waved me to the port. Greedily I angled my lenses up at the long blue hull blocking out the starfield. Beyond her I could see the bulge of a black-and-gold ship.

"That's a Foramen," he said. "There's a freighter from Belye on the other side, you'd call it Arcturus. Not much traffic right now."

"You're the first person who's said two sentences to me since I've been here, sir. What are those colorful little craft?"

"Procya," he shrugged. "They're always around. Like us."

I squashed my face on the vitrite, peering. The walls clanked. Somewhere overhead aliens were off-loading into their private sector of Big Junction. The man glanced at his wrist.

"Are you waiting to go out, sir?"

His grunt could have meant anything.

"Where are you from on Earth?" he asked me in his hard tone.

I started to tell him and suddenly saw that he had forgotten my existence. His eyes were on nowhere, and his head was slowly bowing forward onto the port frame.

"Go home," he said thickly. I caught a strong smell of tallow.

"Hey, sir!" I grabbed his arm; he was in rigid tremor. "Steady, man."

"I'm waiting ... waiting for my wife. My loving wife." He gave a short ugly laugh. "Where are you from?"

I told him again.

"Go home," he mumbled. "Go home and make babies. While you still can."

One of the early GR casualties, I thought.

"Is that all you know?" His voice rose stridently. "Fools. Dressing in their styles. Gnivo suits, Aoleelee music. Oh, I see your newscasts," he sneered. "Nixi parties. A year's salary for a floater. Gamma radiation? Go home, read history. Ballpoint pens and bicycles-"

He started a slow slide downward in the half gee. My only informant. We struggled confusedly; he wouldn't take one of my sobertabs but I finally got him along the service corridor to a bench in an empty loading bay. He fumbled out a little vacuum cartridge. As I was helping him unscrew it, a figure in starched whites put his head in the bay.

"I can be of assistance, yes?" His eyes popped, his face was covered with brindled fur. An alien, a Procya! I started to thank him but the red-haired man cut me off.

"Get lost. Out."

The creature withdrew, its big eyes moist. The man stuck his pinky in the cartridge and then put it up his nose, gasping deep in his diaphragm. He looked toward his wrist.

"What time is it?"

I told him.

"News," he said. "A message for the eager, hopeful human race. A word about those lovely, lovable aliens we all love so much." He looked at me. "Shocked, aren't you, newsboy?"

I had him figured now. A xenophobe. Aliens plot to take over Earth.

"Ah Christ, they couldn't care less." He took another deep gasp, shuddered and straightened. "The hell with generalities. What time d'you say it was? All right, I'll tell you how I learned it. The hard way. While we wait for my loving wife. You can bring that little recorder out of your sleeve, too. Play it over to yourself some time ... when it's too late." He chuckled. His tone had become chatty-an educated voice. "You ever hear of supernormal stimuli?"

"No," I said. "Wait a minute. White sugar?"