Adventures of the Artificial Woman by Thomas Berger

married ones for obvious reasons, and even the single men would probably want to be discreet about it, because people might get the idea that they are incapable of normal sexual relations. So those who run these establishments feel superior to their clientele.”
    â€œAre you the house philosopher?” the man asked. He pushed his chair away from the table and patted his narrow lap. “Put it right there.” She stayed where she was. “Oh, that’s right,” said he, producing a bill that even in the dim light Phyllis could see was a ten. But two of those she had collected on stage had been tens. Surely a lap dance was worth more.
    â€œHow much do you want, then?” the man asked.
    â€œI’m not a prostitute.”
    When he held out another ten, she sat down on him and brought her clothed breasts against his face. He pushed her far enough back to converse and, though the nearby tables were empty, spoke in an undertone. “I’ll pay another twenty if you slip your hand into my fly and jack me off.”
    â€œThat’s against the law,” said Phyllis.
    â€œOnly you and me will know.”
    â€œDo you want me to grind my behind into your groin?”
    â€œLet’s go somewhere private and you give me head. It’s worth fifty to me.”
    â€œThe rubbing with front or back is the only thing that’s allowed here.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œIt’s the law,” said Phyllis. “As you know very well. You’re an undercover policeman.”
    â€œYou’re nuts.”
    Her hasty departure from the man’s lap brought the waiter-bouncer. “Your ass is grass, pal.”
    â€œStep back, bonehead,” said the smaller man, rising from the chair with a badge in his hand.
    â€œYes, sir. You bet.” The bouncer rapidly left the neighborhood.
    â€œYou lucked out, baby,” the detective told Phyllis. “See you around.”
    â€œI never break the law if I know what it is,” said she. “That’s the way I was made.” When he was gone she counted her money and, finding she had accumulated fifty dollars, found Eddie in his office.
    â€œYou’re quitting already?”
    â€œThis is really not for me. It might be otherwise if I could dance.”
    Eddie grinned at her. “There’s something different about you, Phyl, though I can’t put my finger on it. Listen, you just leave the outfit in the dressing room, and I’ll call us even.” His grin widened to reveal the tips of his canine teeth. “We own the lawnjeray shop too. I’ll keep the fifty, and you can take the g-string with you.” He was of course not aware that she was incapable of soiling any intimate garment, nor did she perspire. He accepted the money, though not without counting it. “So, whatya going to do now, Phyl?”
    â€œTry to get into show business.”
    He rubbed the lobe of his nose, fingertip not quite penetrating the nostril. “Here’s something you might consider. My brother Larry’s got a phone-sex business. Can you talk filthy?”
    â€œI’m sure I can if I’m told how.”
    Eddie’s eyebrows rose and fell. “I always thought that was instinct. Discuss it with Larry. You’ll be wasting your good looks. Most of the women he hires are dogs. It doesn’t matter, because nobody sees them. But you’re a finicky kind, and hell, you won’t get your hands dirty.”
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    Larry did not physically resemble Eddie, being tall, thin, and fair-complexioned, but Phyllis could see no reason to doubt the latter’s statement that they were brothers. Blood relationships were difficult for her to understand, having no blood.
    â€œIt’s not just using profanity,” Larry told her. “Some fellows get turned off by raw talk and want something softer, you know. Play it by ear. Ten dollars a minute, the slower the better. Stretch it out. The whole idea is