Free On Archimedes Street by Jefferson Parrish

there would be talk, thought Ed. About what?
    His dick was shot off. Ed remembered a hunk he’d once met with this very secret. Idiot. He’s been flaunting his dick the whole goddamn week until I’m drooling.
    He can’t spring a hard. Idiot again. Ed flashed on the morning wood he’d seen poling up a thin sheet that first week.
    He has HIV. Ed cast his eyes sideways. You can look healthy and have HIV. Hell, you can be healthy and have HIV. And though Ed preferred bareback, condoms it would be. In the silence of the pickup cab, Elwood’s freshly washed scent filled Ed’s nose. Elwood smelled like the steam rising from a shirt as the iron hissed over it, totally clean yet intimate and pungent. He wanted to sink his nose into the source of that scent.
    Ed noticed with uneasiness that they were going over the Greater New Orleans Bridge into Orleans Parish, but certainly Officer Ratto wasn’t likely to pull Elwood over for any reason. And Elwood kept driving forever, it seemed. “Where in the hell is this place?” Ed asked finally. They’d been driving in silence for twenty minutes.
    “We almos’ dere.”
    And when Elwood pulled into the lot of a small strip mall, Ed realized why he had chosen this place. Floodlights illuminated two Chinese characters and below them the giant red letters of the restaurant’s name: Fatt Soon . Ed grinned and then chuckled. Obviously Elwood had a hidden whimsical side he was only now revealing. “Love the name.”
    “Yeah,” said Elwood glumly.
    Once inside, Ed realized they were the only non-Asian customers. The place was packed. A whiteboard with Chinese characters announced the specials, each with an extremely affordable price preceded by a dollar sign. “Must be authentic and good,” said Ed. “How did you find out about it?”
    “Yeah. I like it. Jes’ stumble on it.” After they were seated, Elwood motioned to a waiter, gesturing with curled hands, thumbs to index fingers, mimicking the holding of a menu. The waiter looked at Elwood strangely, shrugged, and brought two menus to the table. Elwood grabbed for the menus and held them. Then he looked significantly at Ed. After a long pause, he handed him one.
    “Why doncha order for us?”
    Ed studied the menu. Every dish was described in Chinese characters.
    “This is all in Chinese. How am I supposed to read this?”
    Elwood held Ed’s gaze fiercely for fifteen seconds or so. Then, in a hiss: “Welcome to my worl’.”

Chapter 11
     
     
    “T HE OLFACTORY epithelium is an area of about five centimeters square at the root of the nasal cavity. It has specialized receptor cells surrounded by nonsensory supporting cells. These specialized cells take what form?” Silence. “Anyone?”
    Mimi glanced away, hoping not to be called on. “Dutch?”
    Dutch was drumming the bench with a pipette and pumping his knee under the workbench, in motion as usual. “Bipolar neurons.”
    “Yes, correct, as always, Dutch,” said Honoria.
    Flip fought to contain his annoyance. Dutch had barely glanced at the physiology textbook last night and instead pored over the Bible needlessly, in Flip’s opinion, in preparation for Sister Immaculata’s Bible as Literature class.
    “Information from the nose travels through the first cranial nerve and olfactory bulb to the olfactory cortex in the cerebrum,” droned Honoria, to the intense boredom of her students. She was losing the class, she knew. Time to get them to sit up.
    “The sense of smell,” she continued, “is the most primitive and least understood of the special senses. It is paramount among the lower species, except for birds. Pheromones guide much insect behavior. It is the main sense for most mammals, which use smell to detect sexual partners, food, and predators.
    “Most humans are unaware of how greatly they are influenced subconsciously by smell. In one study of forty subjects, 100 percent were able to identify their dogs by smell alone. In another, 100 percent of the