Free Oreo by Fran Ross Page A

her size and weight and whip his natural
     ass.
    She was once inadvertently in the state of
hwip-as
when she was riding in her
     uncle’s car. A man standing on a corner as the car passed had seen her and had made sucking
     noises to denote his approval of her appearance. Oreo did not consciously know she had heard
     these primitive sounds, but as she was getting out of the car, she was in such an advanced
     state of
hwip-as
that when she yanked at the ashtray, mistakenly thinking it was a
     door handle, she heedlessly created for her uncle the only three-door club coupe in
     America.
Half WIT
    Oreo’s tutors were on vacation. She needed something to do to occupy her fourteen-year-old
     mind for a few weeks, so she put an ad in the papers. Three days later, she received a phone
     call from what sounded like a young white man.
    “May I speak to Miss Christine Clark?” he asked.
    “This is Christine Clark.”
    “Are you the girl who advertised in the Situations Wanted column of the
Inquirer
?”
    “Yes.”
    “My name is Dr. Jafferts. I’m the medical examiner for district five. I was wondering if I
     could interest you in a job?”
    “I hope so.”
    “Your ad said you’re a recent college graduate.”
    “Yes, it did say that.”
    “And your field was Chinese history?”
    “Yes.”
    “I see,” he said. “Well, let me tell you a little about the job we have in mind. In this
     job, you’d be negotiating government contracts.”
    “Chinese history doesn’t exactly prepare—”
    “That’s all right,” he said generously. “We would train you. This job doesn’t come under
     civil service. You’d be working with another woman. The job involves some traveling within a
     hundred-mile radius of the city. Do you drive?”
    “Yes.”
    “The job pays ninety-five to start and gas-mileage money. The hours are nine to
     three-thirty, five days a week. How does that sound?”
    “Fine.”
    “Now, here’s the catch. Would you submit to a medical examination for the job?”
    “Certainly. Where’s your office?”
    “Well, I don’t exactly have any particular office. I have to travel all over the district.
     I can give you the examination over the phone.”
    Aha, thought Oreo. “Over the phone?” she asked.
    “Yes. You’d be surprised at how thorough a phone examination can be.” He paused, then
     said, “Do you have a house or an apartment?”
    “House,” said Oreo.
    “And where is that located?”
    She gave him her address.
    Are you alone?”
    Oreo decided to go along with him. “Why, yes.”
    “I just asked because some of the questions may seem highly personal. But this is a
     combination psychological and medical exam, so don’t be alarmed.”
    “I promise,” said Oreo.
    “How old are you?”
    “Eighteen,” lied Oreo.
    “Are you a virgin?”
    Which answer is better for a shmuck like this? she wondered, and, having decided, said,
     “No.”
    “Would you mind telling me the color of your underclothes?”
    Oreo covered her mouth to keep from giggling.
    “I mean, are they white or different colors like pink, blue?” “All white,” said Oreo.
    “Um-hmm. And what material are they? Silk, rayon, cotton?”
    “Nylon.”
    “I see. Now, would you mind telling me all the words you know that mean sexual
     intercourse?”
    With a wicked smile, Oreo said, “Certainly.
Procreation
,
cohabitation
,
coition
,
coitus
.”
    “No, no!” He sounded terribly disappointed. Then, clearing his throat, he said calmly, “I
     don’t mean . . . scientific terms. I mean just any words that might come to mind or that you
     might hear on the streets, for instance.”
    “I’m sorry,” Oreo said. “Those are the only ones I can think of right now. Could I come
     back to that question?”
    “Of course, of course,” he snapped. “Now, have you ever admired your body in a mirror?”
    “Sure. Often.”
    “Have you ever been roused? Does music ever make you want to—?” He broke off, then he said,