Stranger in a Strange Land

faithful' to you-not that it has been an effort. But I grok you speak rightly; I wouldn't turn Duke down-and I would enjoy it, too. What do you think of that darling?"
                "I grok a goodness," Mike said seriously.
                "Hmm ... my gallant Martian, there are times when we human females appreciate at least a semblance of jealousy-but I don't think there is the slightest chance that you will ever grok 'jealousy.' Darling, what would you grok if one of those marks-those men in the audience, not a water brother-made a pass at me?"
                Mike barely smiled. "I grok he would be missing."
                "Mmm ... I grok he might be, too. But, Mike-listen to me carefully, dear. You promised me that you wouldn't do anything of that sort except in utter emergency. So don't be hasty. If you hear me scream and shout, and reach into my mind and know that I'm in real trouble, that's another matter. But I was coping with wolves when you were still on Mars. Nine times out often, if a girl gets raped, it's at least partly her own fault. That tenth time-well, all right. Give him your best heave-ho to the bottomless pit. But you aren't going to find it necessary."
                "All right, I will remember. I wish you were sending that naughty picture to Duke."
                "What, dear? I will if you want me to. It's just that if I ever make a pass at Duke-and I might, now that you've put the idea into my little pointy head-I'd rather grab his shoulders and look him in the eye and say, 'Duke, how about it?-I'm willing.' I don't want to do it by sending him a naughty picture through the mail, like those nasty women used to send to you. But if you want me to, okay. Uh, I needn't make it too naughty-I could make it obviously a show girl's professional picture and tell him what I'm doing and ask him if he has room for it in his scrap book. He might not take it as a pass."
                Mike frowned. "I spoke incompletely. If you wish to send Duke a naughty picture, do so. If you do not wish, then do not. But I had hoped to see the naughty picture taken. Jill, what is a 'naughty' picture?"
                Mike was baffled by the whole idea-Jill's reversal from an attitude that he had never understood but bad learned to accept into exactly the opposite attitude of pleasure-sexual pleasure, he understood-at being stared at . . . plus a third and long-standing bafflement at Duke's "art" collection-it certainly was not art. But the pale, wan Martian thing which parallels tumultuous human sexuality gave him no foundation for grokking either narcissism or voyeurism, modesty or display.
                He added, '"Naughty' means a wrongness, usually a small wrongness, but I grokked that you did not mean even a small wrongness, but a goodness." a naughty picture could be either one, I guess-depending on who it's for-now that I'm over some prejudice. But- Mike, I'll have to show you; I can't tell you. But first close those slats, will you?"
                The Venetian blinds flipped themselves shut. "All right," she said. "Now this pose would be just a little bit naughty-any of the show girls would use it as a professional pic . . . and this one is just a little bit more so, some of the girls would use it. But this one is unmistakably naughty and this one is quite naughty . . . and this one is so extremely naughty that I wouldn't pose for it with my face wrapped in a towel- unless you wanted it."
                "But if your face was covered, why would I want it?"
                "Ask Duke. That's all I can say."
                He continued to look puzzled. "I grok not wrongness, I grok not goodness. I grok-" He used a Martian word indicating a null state of all emotions.
                But he was interested because he was so baffled; they went on discussing it, in Martian as much as possible because of its extremely fine discriminations for emotions and values-and in English, too, because Martian. rich as it is, simply couldn't cope with the concepts.
                Mike showed up at a ringside table that night, Jill having coached him in how to bribe the maître d'hôtel to give him such a spot; he was determined to pursue this mystery. Jill was not averse. She came strutting out in the first production number, her smile for everyone but a quick wink for Mike as she turned and her eyes