The Glowworm

A prime example of ice sculpture she was, the glacial beauty in the come-on red dress, holding her own party in the corner of the room. Daniel inspected the attraction over the heads of her male admirers; fortunately, he was the tallest man in the crowd. For a moment, their eyes met and conducted a brief conversation. He got himself another drink and waited for an opening.

It came in the kitchen. Ostensibly, she was helping the hostess dispense lamb curry and little hot frankfurters, but she looked painfully undomestic. He came to her assistance, and her icy-blue eyes traveled from his brush-cut blond hair to end at his windmilling bow tie.

"Crooked," she said throatily.

"Fix it," he suggested.

She obliged without coyness. He inhaled the perfume of her dark hair like a professional brandy sniffer, and then explored the terrain of her snowy shoulder. He wondered if it would be cold to the touch. He was about to find out, but became distracted by a small jeweled pin that was clasping her neckline together. It was a pin in the shape of a glowworm, its extremity luminous with a tiny emerald.

"Pretty pin," he said.

Her back went rigid, and she touched the pin lightly with a coral fingernail. "Does it look familiar?" she said, in an odd voice.

"Familiar? Why, no, I just think it's pretty."

"Oh." She handed him a tray, and blessed him with an incandescent but chilly smile. "Very nice of you to help me. You might even claim a reward."

"What kind of reward?"

"Meet me on the terrace at 11, and I'll explain."

She swept by him. He followed with the tray, and spent the intervening time talking to an engineer, an advertising executive and a woman whose religion was skindiving. The girl in the red dress (he learned her name from the engineer: it was Deborah) vanished within the cordon of her private party.

At 11, he apologized to the skindiving enthusiast and went out on the apartment-house terrace for a breath of air. Deborah was there, her profile turned to the night. "Well," he said lightly, "here we are."

She opened her beaded red bag and rummaged for something. She found it, and handed it to him without a word. He held it toward the light from the French windows, and read:

The Glow Society, Deborah Landis, O.E.

There was a handwritten date he couldn't read. The card was severe in design, except for the small illustration of a glowworm with a green posterior.

"Very interesting," he said. "Only what's it supposed to mean?"

Now she turned to face him. She was beautiful, marblelike, in the blended light-and-shadow of the terrace.

"Your name, please?" she said crisply.

"Daniel. Daniel Holrood."

"Mr. Holrood, you must promise me that what I say will go no further."

He chuckled. "You're not a spy, or anything like that? I mean, I don't work for the Government, you know."

"I'm not a spy. The Glow Society is a strictly private organization. It dates back to 1928, and of necessity it must maintain absolute secrecy."

"Scout's honor," he said. "Just tell me what the hell it's all about."

She looked toward the skyline once more.

"It may be clearer if I tell you the significance of the Society's name. The letters stand for 'Great Lovers of the World.' "

"Great lovers of the -- you must be kidding me."

"I'm serious, Mr. Holrood. The Glow was organized by our founder, Miss Bettina Rasher, in 1928 at Atlantic City, New Jersey. It was formed in the interest of - attractive women everywhere, who are neither anxious to be domesti-(concluded on page 164)Glowworn(continued from page 61) cated, nor willing to waste their time or charms on inept members of the opposite sex. Miss Rasher started the Society as a lark, of course, but it soon became a serious institution. Today, its membership is worldwide, and while the exact figures are secret, there are over 8000 female members, to say nothing of several hundred officers of both sexes."

"Members? But what kind of club is it?"

"It's not a club," she said contemptuously. "It is a Society. Modesty aside, I must tell you that it numbers some of the most beautiful women in the world as its members: the enrollment requirements are very strict. Each member is permitted to wear this small glowworm pin -- for identification purposes."

"For whose identification purposes?"

"For the attractive and -- suitable males the Glow girls are seeking. Once a man qualifies, he is given a winged glowworm pin -- the male glowworm is winged, you know, and carries no light. This pin enables him to approach any Glow member and be assured of -- shall I say, an ardent welcome?"

"You mean he can--"

"Yes, Mr. Holrood. Without fear of rejection, without time-wasting preliminaries, the Glow girls of the world are his for the asking."

He swallowed twice.

"But how do you qualify? What do I have to do, swim the Hellespont?"

"Nothing so unrelated. Certain officers of the Glow have been appointed Official Examiners."

He looked at the card again.

"O.E. Is that what O.E. means?"

"Yes, I have that honor."

"And you mean -- you'll give me a chance?"

"That's my job, Mr. Holrood." She reached for the purse again, and with efficient motions, withdrew a tiny notepad and a slim pencil. She wrote rapidly on the first page, tore it out, and handed it to him. "I'm afraid I have another appointment this evening, but if you'll come to this address tomorrow night at say, 10 o'clock. I'll be happy to see you."

"Look, Debbie, you sure this isn't some kind of rib?"

"It's not a rib, Mr. Holrood, and please call me Miss Landis. You must remember, I am an officer."

"You honestly mean you'll -- and I'm supposed to--"

"It's the only chance you'll have. Fail tomorrow night, and the ladies of the Glow Society are denied to you forever. If you succeed, of course, you must swear to keep the fact secret. The pins are not transferable, and any infraction of the rules will meet with immediate revocation of all privileges. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly clear. Perfectly nutty, but clear."

He trailed two fingers on her shoulder, and her surface temperature dropped five degrees. "Please, Mr. Holrood," she said. "Until tomorrow."

Then she turned and went back inside.

At 10 the following night, she was hardly less glacial when she greeted him at the door of her apartment. But instead of a red dress, she wore a translucent chemise of pale blue, held together at the throat by a glowworm pin with a remarkably smooth-working catch.

•••

When he received the official notification in the mail, Daniel immediately telephoned Deborah Landis' apartment.

"I want to see you," he said.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Holrood, that's against the rules. Did you receive my letter?"

"I got it," he said, with deadly calm. "But I still want to see you. Are you free for lunch?"

There was a momentary, lip-chewing pause.

"All right," the girl said. "Where do you eat lunch?"

He met her at the Allenby Room shortly after 12, and steered her to a secluded table. She wore a white tailored suit and looked virginal. He gritted his teeth, and ungrit them only for the first martini.

"All right," he said. "I suppose you're feeling very smug today."

"Certainly not. I never enjoy declining a likely male, Mr. Holrood, that's not what we're after."

"So I was really that bad, was I?"

"You mean you don't know?" She shrugged, and sipped her drink languidly.

"Yes, I know," Daniel said harshly. "I know that I enjoyed that night about as much as a schoolboy enjoys his final exams. What did you expect?"

"We expect love, Mr. Holrood, warm, passionate love. Is that too much to ask of a healthy young man?"

"And since when is love such a one-sided proposition? You had me so damn jittery with your lousy O.E. card and your icebox attitude--"

"I was only doing my duty."

"No," Daniel said gravely. "You weren't doing your duty, Miss Landis. You were forgetting it takes two to tango, and that's the most serious offense in the Glow Society. Frankly, I don't know how we ever let you take the job as an Official Examiner."

An eyebrow arched.

"Did you say we?"

"Yes, we," Daniel said. He took out his wallet and removed a card. It read: the glow society, daniel k. holrood, vice-president, northeast division.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "But even the Examiners must be examined sometimes. Turn in your glowworm, Miss Landis -- you're through."