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“I wore lingerie in public for money,” she said flatly.

“What?” I gasped. “That’s nothing! That’s less than nothing. In many circles, that’s something to be proud of. Especially male circles. Males who are in no way homosexual.”

“Yeah, here!” she said. “In your dimension! But it’s something where I come from. Believe me!”

“I just don’t think you’re taking in the whole picture,” I said, annoyed.

“Corky. Who’s the only person you need to worry about that might be upset with your past, right now? Right this moment?”

I paused, thinking about it for a little too long. “You?” I asked, hoping that was the right answer.

“Yes,” she said.

Ah. Good. Nailed it the first time, for once.

“Just me,” she continued. “And I couldn’t care less. I already knew anyway, it was just a shock to see it on the table like that, in all video formats, including PAL.”

“For me too.”

“But I know how you feel about me,” she said, smiling. “I’ve seen your erection.”

“Everyone’s seen my erection.”

“True. And some of them even paid money for the privilege,” she reminded me, smiling and nodding toward the pile of evidence in my hand.

That had never occurred to me.

“Interesting point,” I said. “So—you’re not upset? Or hurt, or confused about my sexual orientation?”

She shook her head.

“You’re not angry?”

She began to shake her head ‘no’ again, then stopped. She thought a moment, fixing me with her eyes, and her expression slowly turned a bit sour.

“You called me a nudist,” she said finally.

I studied her for several seconds confused. “You are a nudist.”

“You said it with disdain.”

“I…” I paused and really focused on her. She was visibly pained by that earlier comment. This is exactly what she had feared most when she asked me not to bid on her. Me lapsing. And clearly, I was a lapser. Like the dog.

Lapser Oopso.

Never mind.

“I’m sorry,” I said, finally. “I was upset, and…”

“Let’s just sell your comics,” she said quietly. “So we can make good on your bid.”

There was a distance and finality in her voice that hit me hard in the gut. I thought about what I’d said, and what I’d really meant, and it made me wince. I had slid off the slippery slope of stupidity, submerged into a river of fear, and while flailing around to save myself, had struck my savior in the face.

“Wisper, I’m really…” but I never got to finish my thought, because just then two familiar faces stepped through the crowd, one smiling with malevolent glee.

The Boones. Papa mayor and little Washburne. Both were wearing velour jogging clothes, sunglasses, and gold jewelry.

“Good, God,” I said. “What are YOU doing here?”

Wisper turned at my question, and the shock of seeing the two men she least expected, and least wanted to see, nearly knocked her over. River in turn looked the Boones up and down, repulsed to see them in so many clothes and apparently comfortable. At least the mayor, if not Washburne. Old Wash looked as though just being around so many unnaked people was making his skin crawl. He sweated and cast his eyes about nervously, avoiding physical contact with anyone who brushed too closely near him. At one point someone bumped him, and he whimpered like a lost puppy.

“What are you doing here?” Wisper asked, the words barely able to escape her throat.

“We’re here to take you home, my dear,” the mayor said, and then looked at me. “And see to it that you never return to Nikkid Bottoms.”

“You mean you’ll try…” I began, then noticed Washburne held what’s called a short box—a white cardboard container designed to hold small amounts of comics, and keep them protected from people who might want to touch them.

Apparently the thing could also keep a gun quite safely tucked away as well.

“Whoa,” I said, and nodded to the thing so Wisper, and River could see it as well. But they never did. Washburne pulled the pistol back inside the box, though I knew it was still pointed directly at me.

“What?” Wisper asked.

The mayor interrupted before I could answer.

“Let’s go somewhere more private, shall we?” The elder Boone said slimily.

Washburne stepped forward and pushed