The next day Wick bustled into the office carrying an enormous picnic basket. Drew eyed it and said, "A picnic, sir?"

"Of course. What could be more romantic? A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou beside me..."

Drew peeked into the basket. "Whoa. Ol' Omar didn't say anything about cherries, pate', brie, and chilled oysters on the half-shell. Are you sure those things are gonna be safe by the time lunch rolls around?"

"You seem to have forgotten my mini-fridge, surprisingly enough, as my chilled Milky Ways have an odd habit of growing legs and walking off." Drew looked around innocently. "As I was saying, sitting on the ground. Together. Feeding each other choice tid bits..." His eyes were getting dreamy.

"...ants, gnats, hornets, frisbee catching dogs that pee on you hamper..."

"Not when you have the picnic inside, Carey," he said, looking wise.

"Oswald isn't gonna want to be shut up in a private room with you, sir. You'd need a good excuse not to take him out to the park."

"How about rain?"

Drew looked out the window. "But the weather is beautiful."

"Not for long."

Drew looked at him sternly. "Sir, have you sold your soul to the devil again?"

"Not this time, but you wouldn't believe how expensive cloud seeding is."

Drew peeked in the basket again. "Hey! A whole box of Slim Jims!" He slipped his hand inside. "Mind if I...?" Wick snapped the lid shut on his hand like a mousetrap. "Ow!" When Wick relented and lifted the lid, Drew jerked his hand back and blew on his fingers.

"Those are for Oswald," Wick said archly.

"What? All of 'em?"

"I don't know how many it will take... I mean how many he will take. I must go set up." Wick bustled into his office just as Mimi arrived.

Mimi watched him go, hands approximately where her hips would have been if she wasn't basically ovoid. "I can't believe he's goin' through all that trouble for Geek Boy."

"Hey!" Drew said indignantly. "Oswald is not Geek Boy. Lewis has that title locked up. Oswald is more kinda..." He thought. "Actually, Geek covers it pretty well, but let's say Dweeb for the sake of variety." He got up and headed toward the door.

"Hey! Where you goin'? You're not due for a break for another twenty minutes."

"I have to go."

"No, you have to wait for your proper time."

"Mimi, I have to go."

"No ya don't! I'll report you to Wick."

Drew walked over to Mimi's desk. "Listen carefully: I have to go!" He looked pointedly at her wastebasket, and reached for his fly. "But if you insist I not leave the room..."

"For every tooth unhooked on that zipper, you lose one out of your mouth! Get out of here!" Drew smirked and went to the men's room.

A few minutes later he stalked into Wick's office. Wick was arranging a bouquet of wrapped beef sticks in a Lalique vase, humming to himself. "What do you want, Carey? I'm busy getting ready for Oswald's arrival."

"I can believe that, sir. I just wanted to ask you about a couple of little items I ran across in the trash in the men's room."

Wick froze, trying to look casual, but he was sweating. "Why, Carey. What were you doing in the trash in the men's room?"

"Last Lifesaver, slippery fingers, short story. That's not important. What is important is that I want to know if you can tell me anything about these." Drew held up two objects. There was a brief sting of suspenseful music that caused him to look around curiously. Then he shrugged and continued. "A used disposable hypodermic syringe,and an empty Rohypnol bottle!"

Wick was pale, his eyes darting rapidly around the room. "Why... why..." He swallowed. "Good Lord! Someone must be planning on drugging and kidnapping Mimi!"

"Nah. They'd just use the tranquilizing darts, like always. Besides, she was tagged and released only eight months ago, she isn't due for a check till June." Drew dropped the incriminating items in the wastebasket. "Sir, I think I need to examine those beef sticks you're planning on giving to Oswald."

Wick cupped a hand to his ear. "Carey! Is that a Frosty Freezie truck I hear outside?"

Drew started quickly out the door, then paused, turning back. "Very clever, sir, but we all know that the Frosty Freezie trucks don't start making their rounds till March 10th, and it's only the 2nd."

Wick gasped in pleased surprise. "They must have started early!"

Drew beamed. "Yeah!" and started toward the door. He stopped again, frowning. "Wait a minute! I don't believe you."

Wick pouted. "Why not?"

"Because my life doesn't get that good." He snatched a beef stick out of the bundle before Wick could stop him and examined it. "Aha! Just as I suspected! A teeny, tiny hole, cleverly hidden in the dot of the i in Slim." He glared at Wick. "For shame."

Wick looked at him blandly. "Stuff it, Carey. I've already told you: I don't do shame."

"No, but you could do about five to ten for this, and I have a sneaking suspicion that 'Inside' you'd be a girlfriend instead of a boyfriend." Drew grabbed the beef sticks. "I'm disposing of these. You get this one break, but if you try anything again, I'll... I'll... I'll tell Mimi that you have secret fantasies about her."

"But I do."

"I don't mean the one's involving the runaway semi and her fixing her stocking in the middle of a crosswalk."

"I usually favor a garbage truck. Much more symbolic." Wick sighed. "All right, I'll do this the hard way." He smiled suddenly. "The 'hard way'. Doesn't that sound absolutely lovely? I'm going to do things the 'hard way' with Oswald," he drawled.

"You're a lecher, sir."

"Yes. Would you like to see my official permit?"

"They issue permits for that?"

"Only in our club." He flipped his lapel and showed Drew a button.

"Ill? I can believe that."

"No, no. I--L--L. International League of Lechery."

"Shouldn't that be ILOL?"

"Shall we discuss the corrolation between when you want your next vaction and the approximate time Beelzebub goes ice skating on the pits of Hell?"

"Nice button. Better than a smiley face."

"Look, Carey. I'll..." He shuddered, making a face. "behave myself. Just don't tell Oswald about the little date aid."

"Date aid? Rohypnol in the Slim Jims, and he calls it a date aid. And I suppose there's Spanish fly in the brie."

"Of course not."

"Aha, then it's in the champagne."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Drew reached into the hamper. "Suppose I was to feed these oysters to Mimi?"

"She'd need to brush her teeth. Other than that..."

"Of course, oysters just aren't right without..." He whipped out a bottle, to another suspenseful sting of music.

This time Wick looked around, too. "How do you do that, Carey?"

"I dunno. I wish I could train it to happen whenever I'm playing strip poker with Kate. I can see it now. 'Well, Kate, I either have nothing or... a straight flush!" Instead of the dramatic sting there was a muted-trumpet 'Whah-hah-hah' sound. "Figures. Any way, if I gave her the oysters..."

"Oh, go ahead. See if I care."

"I'd have to give her the.--chili sauce."

"No!" shrieked Wick.

"Just as I thought... the old 'aphrodisiac-in-the-condiment' ploy! I'll take this, too."

Wick's shoulders slumped in defeat as Drew left the office, and he muttered to himself. "Well, that's it. Plan C: I drop an asperin in his coke."

"The nerve of that guy!" Drew dropped the bottle and Slim Jims in the wastebasket in the outer office. "Why can't he just get Oswald decently drunk, like any other horny dog?" Oswald came into the office. "And here's the Great Obsession himself. Hey, Oswald."

"Hey, Drew."

Drew looked Oswald up and down. "Oswald, you're dripping!"

"Yeah." He squeezed a few drips out of his sleeve. "It was the funniest thing. The weather was absolutely beautiful. Then a little plane flew overhead and boom! Downpour. So, any idea where Wick's planning on taking me?"

"With this freak weather change? I'd say to the moon and back. Look, before you eat anything, make Wick taste it, okay?"

"If you say so, Drew."

Wick came out of his office. When he saw Oswald he clapped his hands joyously. "Oh, my! Wet T-shirt contest! You win, Oswald."

"It's raining outside."

Wick's eyes opened wide in astonishment. "No? Really? Well, you really should get out of those wet things right away."

"Uh... no."

Wick shrugged. "It was worth a try. Come along, beautiful."

"Aren't we going to lunch?"

"I have a lovely picnic basket."

"But it's raining."

"Yes, I kno-ow. We'll have to stay inside."

"In your office?" Oswald rubbed his rump, obviously remembering the last time he'd been in Wick's office. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Suit yourself. I'll just go check if the beer in the mini-fridge is properly chilled."

Oswald didn't quite tailgate, though Wick would have hardly objected. Mimi came in just in time to witness the departure. She snorted, shaking her head. "Crap. Well, I ain't kickin' in for another shower present for him, not after that two bucks I donated for his wedding present with the bimbo went down the drain."

"It's just a festive lunch, Mimi."

"Festive, huh? Then I guess Wick is gonna blow up those condoms I saw him buying for balloons."

Drew tried to settle back down to work, but it wasn't easy. He kept an ear cocked toward Wick's office, ready to spring into action, or at least grab a camera, at the least sound of distress. Nothing happened. A half hour later Oswald came out of the office, saying, "Okay. I'll see you then."

"Oswald, c'mere." Oswald went to Drew's desk. "What happened?"

Oswald shrugged. "We had lunch. He was a perfect gentleman. Well, unless you count that thing he did with the cherry stem and his tongue, and the look he gave me while he was doing it."

"And what was that 'see you then' bit?"

"He's gonna come watch me bowl on league night."

Drew sat back. "Nigel Wick is going to go into a bowling alley without someone holding a gun to his head? I may have been wrong, Oswald. This might be love."

"No, I think he's just interested in sports. He kept muttering 'Take an interest in his leisure pursuits.' Any way, you and Lewis, and Kate will be there, too."

"Yeah, but he ain't gonna be looking at our butts when we bend over to throw the ball."

Oswald left, and Drew got back to work. He heard a strange rustling sound. He tried to ignore it, but it came again and again. He looked all around his desk, but couldn't find any source. Finally he turned around. "Say, Mimi, do you hear..." He froze.

Mimi was peeling the wrapper off a Slim Jim. The rustling noise was explained by the dozen or so empty plastic wrappers littering her desk. She took a bite and said, "Hear what, pig?"

Drew grinned. "Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. Say, Mimi, how long has it been since you took a nap in the middle of the day?"

She chewed and swallowed. "Not since kiddiegarden. Why?"

"No particular reason."

"Ya might as well quit starin' at the beef sticks, pal. I found 'em, and they're all mine. You ain't gettin' any."

"I wouldn't dream of asking."

To Drew's horror, Mimi shook chili sauce on the Slim Jim before she took the next bite. "Mimi! That... uh, that stuff'll give you ulcers."

"Crap. I need it. These are the plain kind, and I like my meat sticks hot and spicy. I'm just glad these are the long kind."

Drew winced. "Eat enough of that sauce and those last two sentnaces will take on a whole new meaning, and I don't want to be here to witness it, much less participate."

Mimi started to fan herself. "Damn. Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

"Oh, man. This is gonna be a race to see which kicks in first: the Slim Jims, or the chili sauce."

Mimi peered at Drew. "Ya know somethin', pig? You're not quite as nauseating as I always thought."

Drew stood up quickly. "I'm taking an early day." He stuck his head in Wick's office. "Sir? If you value your life and sanity, lock your door until you hear snores."

It was a narrow escape. Mimi pinched Drew's butt as he hurried past her, but he remember that he had the Lava soap at home, so he didn't let it bother him too much. As he got out of the elevator of the ground floor, he met Larry, Mrs. Lauder's pet gigolo. "Carey, have you schedualed that long weekend for me yet?"

"Look, Larry, I told ya. One more long weekend and I have to declare you a government institution."

"Mrs. Lauder is going to be VERY disappointed if I can't get that time off. I promised to show her some of the yoga moves I've been practising, and I've already rented the videocam."

Drew scowled. He was pretty sick of the way Larry took advantage of being the boss lady's lap dog, but wasn't ready to risk his own job by slapping him down. Then his expression smoothed out, and he said, "Okay, Lar. Just go on up and tell Mimi to write it in on the schedule for me."

"She'll do it?"

"Oh, yeah, believe me, she'll do it."

Drew watched Larry enter the elevator, and left muttering to himself. "Good thing he's been taking yoga. I have a feeling that the only way he's gonna survive this is by being flexible."