"Robert F. Young - Report on the Sexual Behaviour on Arcturus X" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

The physician, we are told, should bed himself; and the anthropologist
examining the sexual mores of alien races might do well to consider the state of his
(or her) own sex life.

Report on the Sexual Behavior on Arcturus X
by ROBERT F. YOUNG

ALISON BENNETT, WHO WAS ALWAYS alluding to the Men in Her Life, and Hubert
Harrington, who had yet to find the Woman in His, were far from being the most compatible team
Galactic Research Headquarters could have selected to collaborate on a study of the sex life of the
Notantanawites; but Galactic Research Headquarters had never been noted for its acumen in pairing
male and female anthropologists, and the present instance was the rule rather than the exception.
Hubert brought the baby to rest in the middle of a large clearing, and he and Alison stepped down
from the lock into waist-deep meadow grass. It was mid-morning, and the local sun beat warmly on their
faces.
It was a rather pleasant sun, Hubert thought, and the deep blue sky it traveled through was certainly
congenial enough. So was the gentle breeze breathing up from the south. Hubert's mood, which had been
lackluster ever since he'd left the mother-ship, brightened somewhat. A seventy-two hour- sojourn on so
halcyon a planet might turn out to be endurable after all, even if he was burdened with a man-crazy
brunette.
Alison Bennett nipped that thought in the bud. Placing her hands on her flared hips, she surveyed her
domain with a cynical eye. The forested hills and dales, dew-wet and glistening, spread out like tossed
endive to a range of mountains the hue of angel food cake; but if any of the delectable splendor got
through to the little safety deposit box where she kept her heart, she gave no sign.
Presently she lowered her gaze to the meadow grass that eddied round her waist. "Looks like hay,"
she said. She leered at Hubert. "Ever sleep on hay?" she asked.
While Hubert was blessed with the body of a football hero, he was burdened with the sensitive soul
of a poet. Association with Alison on the long voyage out had blunted his sensibilities somewhat with
respect to her risque reminiscences, but there was one aspect of ultra-civilized communication to which
he was particularly susceptible—the double-entendre. He winced quite visibly and his face turned red.
"Well, did you?" Alison asked aggressively.
"Once or twice," he said. "When I was a kid."
"A kid! Ha!"
Damn her! Hubert thought. Then, aloud: "If we're going to visit the village today, we'd better get
started. We may have trouble finding the place."
"No we won't." She pointed. "See, we've got an escort."
Turning, he saw the thirteen natives approaching them across the clearing. They were Notantanawites
beyond the shadow of a doubt. Hubert had never met one face to face before, but he had studied enough
photographs of them to enable him to recognize one in a London fog.
While humanoid, they still managed to differ from humans in a number of startling ways: their bright
red hair grew in the form of a scalp-lock, beginning just above their wide noses and terminating halfway
down their backs; their eyes were located on the sides of their heads, giving them 360° vision; and their
naked bodies were so heavily covered with freckles that, from a distance, their skin seemed almost as
red as their hair.
But, despite their outre racial characteristics, they were a friendly people—or so it said on p. 22 of
the Advance Report on the Various Races Inhabiting Arcturus X. However, the present baker's
dozen of them gave no such reassuring impression. Watching them approach, all Hubert could think of
was a band of red-headed American Indians on the warpath.
 He noticed how white Alison's face had become. "Take it easy," he said. "They won't hurt us. If the
Advance Report said they're peaceful, then they're peaceful. Besides, you don't think Galactic Research