Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net QUICKIE BY MILTON LESSER _Dr. Kinsey, meet Mr. Grover, the amorous adventurer. Even in a world of polygamous sexual relations and legal multiple marriages, here is the nation's champion philanderer!_ [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science Fiction, October 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Simon Grover always felt like a goldfish in a coptercab. The plexiglass bubble afforded full 360 degree vision, but people could also see you from the crowded traffic lanes above a big city. "Hurry," said Simon Grover, a small, energetic man with close-set hazel eyes and a stubborn chin. "I'm hurrying," the pilot told him with frustrating indifference. In another few moments he would be safe. He squirmed around and saw another copter rise above the express lane and close the gap between them. It had never been this close before. The aquamarine roof of the Marriage Building loomed ahead, then swelled up at them. The other copter buzzed closer. "Don't see any landing space," the pilot said laconically. Simon squinted down anxiously. The copters were lined up in neat but crowded rows on the rooftop, with hardly more than walking space between them. "Hover," Simon pleaded. "I'll jump." "I could lose my license." Simon reached into his pocket and drew out a handful of bills. "This is important to me," he said. The pilot pocketed the money, then swooped down toward the roof. Suspended grotesquely eight feet above the aquamarine surface, blades whirling, the coptercab hovered. Simon grunted his thanks and slid back the door. The other copter was fanning air above them and dropping fast when Simon jumped. His left leg struck the side of a parked cab and threw him off balance. He landed on his shoulder, rolled over and scrambled to his feet. He darted between the rows of copters, thankful for the partial protection their blades offered him. A parabeam zipped down at the long shadow he cast in the late afternoon sun, but in another moment he had reached the roof entrance to the Marriage Building and flung himself inside. Breathing hard, he smoothed his rumpled clothing with shaking hands. That had been entirely too close. They thought he was fleeing because he did not want to work for a living. Rot. If he were ever captured, all the romance would go from his life.