"It's a very interesting proposal," Laura said, tapping her desk with a pencil. "But it's not a decision I can make on my own. I'll be happy to take your ideas to our Central Commit- tee." She took a breath. The air in the tiny room held the smoky reek of the reverend's patchouli. The smell of mad- ness, Laura thought suddenly. "You have to understand that

Rizome may have some difficulties with this. Rizome favors strong social ties in its associates. It's part of our corporate philosophy. Some of us might consider prostitution a sign of social breakdown."

The reverend spread her hands and smiled. "I've heard about Rizome's policies. You're economic democrats-I ad- mire that. As a church, a business, and a political movement, we're a new-millennium group ourselves. But Rizome can't change the nature of the male animal. We've already ser- viced several of your male associates. Does that surprise you?"

She shrugged. "Why risk their health with amateur or criminal groups? We Temple women are safe, dependable, and eco- nomically sensible. The Church stands ready to do business."

Laura dug into her desk. "Let me give you one of our brochures. "

The reverend opened her purse. "Have a few of ours. I have some campaign pamphlets-I'm running for City

Council."

Laura looked the pamphlets over. They were slickly printed.

The margins were dotted with ankh symbols, yin-yangs, and chalices. Laura scanned the dense text, spotted with italics and words in red. "I see you favor a liberal drug policy."

"Victimless crimes are tools of Patriarchal oppression."

The reverend dug in her purse and produced an enameled pillbox. "A few of these will argue the case better than I can." She dropped three red capsules on the desktop. "Try them, Mrs. Webster. As a gift from the Church. Astonish your husband."