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That afternoon she drove to the USC campus and met Charley Conrad who was waiting for her at the parking lot. As they walked towards the school he said, "Ali, you've already established a first: This is the first time since I've been here — and maybe the first time in history — a featured speaker arrived on time. In fact, precisely on time. Thank you for coming and for your courtesy to us by being so prompt."

When he took her to a large lecture hall in the law school, she was surprised to find it crowded with law students. After calling the meeting to order, he looked at his watch. "Ladies and gentlemen, I think this is a first. It is now four o'clock. We have a featured speaker with us and we're starting on time. I think it says something about our speaker today. Like many of you here — looking around, I see a number of older faces — I remember Allison McGrath from her screen roles in the 1970s. I can recall going to bed and dreaming about her. She was the most beautiful woman alive, but then she disappeared. There was a rumor going around about disagreements with the studio. You still see her on the Late Show, of course, but there was no sign of her until a few weeks ago.

"As some of you know, I work at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel in room service. Last week I delivered a breakfast order to the Trouble Suite." He turned toward Ali and put his finger in front of his lips, then turned back to the group. "Ali's not supposed to know this, of course, but the suite gets its name from the guests normally in it, not from the facilities. It's the finest suite in the hotel — normally filled with the most obnoxious SOBs in the world: traveling VIPs.

"At any rate I took an order up and met Ali and her husband, Bill Clifford. Now I'm going to say something that can get me thrown out of the union, if I'm still alive. The people who know guests best are the staff ... particularly if the guests are in the hotel for a while. Right now, there are near fistfights to see who gets to service their suite. It's not the tips, although they're very generous. The fact is, it's the smile.

"You see — and some of you may remember this from her films — Ali has a smile which, when she really turns it on, is like sunshine. The staff turns collective handsprings if they get that smile ... and they usually do. To show you how bad it is, one guy was walking around like he'd been hit by a truck. I guess he sort of had. He'd been hit by one of Ali's smiles. He was walking around like a zombie with a grin on his face. I asked him about his tip. He actually didn't know if she gave him one and he didn't seem to care.

"Now you're not waiters or waitresses, but I know many of you have been. When was the last time you didn't know if you got a tip, let alone how big it was? With Ali, it's not unusual. She could really save a lot of money. At any rate, I met her at the hotel. She is the most gracious person I can ever recall meeting. She thanked me for remembering her, and thanked me for inviting her to visit us today. I could go on and on.

"I would like to mention one thing more: Ali is a movie star. Some consider her a sex goddess. She also has her BA in History from the University of Kansas, and her MBA from UCLA, where she is now completing her law degree. She graduates this June. Some friends over there tell me she's at or near the top of her class. Would you join me in welcoming our professional colleague, Allison McGrath Clifford?"

He turned to Ali and she replaced him on the podium. She was warmed by the applause she heard.

"Thank you for the very warm welcome. Charley tried to make you believe waiters only work for tips. Well, there's also a point of view that actors only perform for the money. That's just not true, either. What we live on is applause ... and that's the first applause I've drawn in over ten years. Thank you so much.

"I suppose I should comment on my appearance this afternoon. I couldn't figure out whether Charley was inviting an actress — in which case I would do my movie-star imitation — or a lawyer. I kind of decided he had invited a lawyer, but I don't even have my basic grey-flannel lawyer suit yet. Then I remembered the real attraction this afternoon: free beer."

She smiled her very warm smile and was amazed when it evoked a spontaneous cheer. "Anyway, I came dressed for a beer party. I hope there are no serious women's libbers here who'll chew me out for the rest of the afternoon. Anyway, we've now agreed why we're all here.

"However, particularly these days when everyone takes himself so seriously, we couldn't just blow off the talk and start pouring the beer. Appearances must be preserved, so I have to say something. Unfortunately, Charley never told me what I was supposed to talk about, and I've been too busy getting ready for my own finals to sweat it. This bothered me for a while. Then I remembered that Charley originally offered me five thousand dollars to appear today. I now realize the smartest thing I ever did was to refuse the money and ask him to use some of it for beer.

"Although I didn't realize it at the time, I now know it took me off the hook. Since I'm not doing this for money, I didn't have to write a speech, so I didn't. I propose to answer your questions if there are any. Then we can get to the serious business of the afternoon. However, there is one more word of preamble: I am truly pleased to be here at the University of Southern California. I would have loved to be a student here myself, but frankly, I couldn't afford it. Thank you for inviting me and does anyone have any questions?"

Ali walked out from behind the podium and sat on the edge of the stage with her legs dangling. She realized that the acoustics of the hall were good enough that the PA system wasn't necessary.

A student rose from the back of the room. "Miss McGrath, like Charley, I'm a Vietnam veteran. I think I heard that Charley saw you over there in 1974. I didn't have the privilege. He referred to a rumor that I've heard, too: that your career was cut short because of the war. Would you care to comment?"

Ali grimaced. "Yes, I will. I guess the 'in' thing is to tell you where I'm coming from, although I detest the phrase. First, I think we went over there with very honorable motives. The phrase at the time was the domino theory which, as a concept, obviously had merit. We lost Vietnam ... Excuse me, the Vietnamese lost their freedom, as did the Laotians and the Cambodians. The dead in Cambodia are now numbered in the millions. So much for the question of why.

"Once there, though, we managed the war abominably. Our leaders couldn't make up their collective minds what we were there for. But one thing was clear: We weren't there to win the war in any historically recognizable sense. That's the tragedy. Our people — some of them are you people — did absolutely everything they were asked to do. They performed effectively, often under extremely adverse conditions. But we left with our tail between our legs. We weren't beaten. We were never beaten. We walked.

"I bitterly resented seeing our boys fighting, bleeding and dying, and then being spit on by draft-dodgers at home. Sure, there were some committed pacifists who are against all wars as a matter of principle. There were some very thoughtful people who had some of the same doubts I had: about the way we were fighting, not why we were there. However, there were also a substantial number of committed cowards. These were people who took cover in the antiwar movement.

"I guess you could say they were in the forefront of what is now a major effort to make us safe from any accident or misfortune. In fact, I'm waiting for OSHA to cite the U.S. Armed Forces on the grounds that war can be hazardous to one's health. But I digress. I guess I got fed up with seeing us — our GIs — being portrayed as the bad guys. In some influential quarters in Hollywood, they were all for free speech ... as long as you were saying the right things. Jane Fonda was. I wasn't. She worked. I didn't. I guess it's that simple."

The reaction to her short speech was astonishing. Suddenly, the whole group was on its feet applauding. Charley came up to her and shook her hand. "Ali, that was absolutely magnificent! I've never heard it summed up so accurately and clearly in so few words."

Slowly the applause died down and a girl raised her hand. Ali recognized her. "Miss McGrath, what you just described sounds like a boycott. Specifically, it sounds like an organized effort to deprive you of the ability to earn a livelihood. Did I understand you correctly?"

Ali noted she was a very earnest-appearing young lady who seemed to be far too young to have been involved in any way during the Vietnam confrontations. "First, you would all do me a great favor if you called me Ali. As a matter of fact, my life was saved by Bill Clifford. I still don't really know why, but he married me and changed my life. Technically, it's Mrs. Clifford, which is a name I've come to like very much. However, since we're all law students — even if there are some of us who are over the hill..."

At that instant, there was a loud chorus of boos and shouts disagreeing with her 'over-the-hill' assessment of herself. She grinned and continued, "Thank you so much. But as I was saying, since we're all law students and I came for the beer, please call me Ali.

"Miss, to address your question, I think the answer is yes, and I'm working on it. You see, after I stopped getting work I still had a fair amount of money. Unfortunately, my parents were critically injured in an automobile accident and subsequently died. Their expenses took a great deal of my money. While I was with them, though, my agent was getting blank stares as he tried to sell me into various parts. After I buried my parents in Kansas, I came back here to be available for casting. I was also realistic enough to know I had to do something to support myself, too.

"I went to UCLA and got my MBA. When I graduated, I received no job offers. Not one. I don't mean to brag, but I graduated first in my class. I suppose I could have gone home to Kansas and gotten a job, but I didn't want to let them run me out of Southern California.

"The last of my money went on lawyers. I don't think mine were very good, or else they didn't care very much or try very hard. Anyway, it's what got me to law school. And I say this in full knowledge of the axiom, 'a lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client'. Until a short time ago I was flat, stony broke. Let me just say that on the morning of my wedding I had a bank balance of $7.64, I was two months behind in my rent and I was being hounded by every bill collector in Southern California.

"Finally, I would like to comment on Charley's introductory remarks about the attitude of the hotel staff towards us. There's an Indian saying to the effect, 'To understand a man, you must walk a mile in his moccasins.' Well, I think I know what it's like to struggle and scrimp. I appreciate people who have to work hard to earn a living. I really appreciated what he said about Bill and me and only hope he's not exaggerating too much." She smiled and was rewarded with another burst of applause. "Are there any more questions before we have the beer? I'm planning on staying, by the way. It's a condition of my appearance. Charley promised to save a beer for me, so I would love to talk more with you while I'm here."

A young man sitting close to the front said, "Ali, can we help you? We all get involved in these legal-aid things. I guess it helps when you take care of a tough landlord situation, but many of us would like to do something bigger. At the same time, I can't stand these 'constitutional issues' cases where we get a few poor souls to sign some complaint papers and use them — and I mean the people, not the papers — to fry some fish of our own.

"Anyway, is there something we can do? It sounds to me that you were raped! Like most of the people here, I was very young when Vietnam was a hot item. But I think we've been sensitized enough on civil rights and civil liberties to see some application here. Ali, have you given any thought to going after those bastards on a Federal rap of conspiring to deny you your civil rights? I sure don't know you like some of the others here, but I have seen many of your films on TV. I wondered what happened to such a great actress.

"Actually, though, having listened to you this afternoon, I'm coming to the point of view that maybe you aren't such a great actress. After all, how great do you have to be to play yourself? I think that is what you were doing: playing Ali McGrath. And I think Ali McGrath is a pretty wonderful person!"

Again, everyone in the room rose and gave Ali a standing ovation. She could feel tears rolling down her cheeks as the applause got louder and cheers and whistles mixed in. Then she jumped to her feet again, stood on the stage and just listened to the applause. Moments later she was joined by Charley who stood by her side with his arm around her waist. While he remained standing, she waved to the crowd and then sat down in the chair positioned for her.

Charley waited for the cheering to die down, and finally it did. He said, "This is the end of my third year here at USC Law School. In that time I've seen many distinguished speakers come to address the students. Frankly, this is a first for me. I have never seen such a reception accorded a speaker since I have been here. I've been thinking about that comment John Jacobs made, and I think he's probably right. I guess Ali isn't such a great actress. She's a great person, playing herself. Anyway, I want to thank her for coming. I would also be very interested in organizing and participating in any effort to assist her in seeing justice done."

Then he held up his arms and yelled, "The beer tap is now open! Thank you all for coming."

He turned to Ali and said, "You were great. By the way, you look great, too." He studied her and then slowly shook his head. "That's all you, isn't it? You're wearing no makeup at all, are you?"

Ali looked chagrined. "I'm sorry, Charley. I just took a shower at my health club and came on over. I didn't think it showed that much."

He shook his head and looked at her as he might look at an amusing child. "You really don't understand, do you? Ali, how many girls can step out of a shower and look like a gorgeous movie star without putting on a shred of makeup? And I most particularly include the movie stars? Damn! If only I'd met you an hour earlier!"

She looked up at him and turned on her smile. "Why Charley Conrad! I'm overwhelmed!" She stood on tiptoe and kissed him softly on the lips. "Thank you," she said softly.

Charley just looked dazed as he lightly rubbed the back of his wrist on his lips. With an effort of will he regained control. "Come on!" he said, "The beer will be all gone, and then you'll kill me!"

She grinned at him and said, "I'm glad to see you understand the seriousness of the situation."

He led her to the side of the room and left her with a group of students who were crowding around. A number wanted autographs which she cheerfully provided. She asked them where they intended to practice and asked their names. Then she wrote a couple of lines using the person's name and referring to each as a colleague at the bar.

Just then, Charley came up wearing his white waiter's jacket and carrying a silver tray high over his head to clear the crowd. When he rejoined Ali, he lowered it with a flourish. On it was a bottle of Sam Adams and a tall frosted pilsner glass. He carefully poured the beer and presented it on the tray to her, along with a paper napkin. He grinned at Ali and the group and said, "I happen to know Ali is spoiled by the quality of service she gets at the hotel. Also, USC has its honor to uphold against UCLA."

She grinned back and said, "Charley also knows I love Sam Adams. Charley, thank you so much! But where are the pretzels, for heaven's sake? Who ever heard of beer without pretzels?" Just then a friend of Charley's, also wearing a waiter's jacket, offered her a basket of fat beer pretzels. Ali pretended to faint. Although she let her knees go limp, she was careful not to spill a drop of her beer. She then jumped up and grinned. "I've died and gone to heaven! Ice-cold Sam Adams and jumbo pretzels! Yum!"

A quiet girl had been standing close to Ali without saying anything. Finally, Ali looked directly at her. She reddened slightly and then said quietly, "Miss McGrath, could I speak to you alone for a moment?"

Ali looked at the girl and thought it had taken an effort of will for her to speak at all. Charley had seen the exchange, so Ali winked at him while moving off with the girl towards the stage. "Don't you have a beer?" Ali asked.

"I don't drink, Miss McGrath. My name is Virginia Jamison. I'm a third-year student here. I wanted to speak to you personally. How do you handle men the way you do? You're so relaxed and natural. I should tell you I came here to boo. I thought that a big-time stuck-up movie star was going to grace us with her presence. Then I heard you and saw you. You're real, aren't you?"

Ali could see the girl was deeply troubled about something and she knew it was no time for a joke. "Yes, I guess I am," she replied. "What you see is what you get."

Virginia went on. "You're so ... so free with the guys. How do you do it? How do you maintain your dignity, your sense of personal worth? How do you keep men from dominating you?"

Ali looked at the girl carefully. She suddenly realized that even she — with her trained eye — couldn't discern what Virginia really looked like. There wasn't the least hint of a figure under her clothes. She appeared formless and it puzzled her. Then Ali said something totally removed from her thoughts. "First, what do people call you? Virginia is ... kind of formal. Second, I don't care if you drink or not, I want you to get yourself a beer and get us a basket of those pretzels. Then I'm yours for as long as the pretzels hold out. Okay?"

"Well, some people call me Ginny, but I don't think that's appropriate for a woman lawyer. It's not serious enough." Ali slowly nodded as the girl went off. A few minutes later she was back with a glass of beer for herself and a bottle of Sam Adams stuck in a basket of pretzels for Ali. Ali grinned and relieved her of the basket. She refilled her own glass and gracefully pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the stage.

"Won't you join me, Ginny? You can get up here, can't you?"

The girl gave Ali a strange look, then gracefully turned and lifted herself effortlessly up on the stage. Ali smiled and said, "Have a pretzel."

Ginny looked at them and said, "But they have so much salt. All that sodium..."

Ali looked concerned and said, "I'm so sorry. You don't look like you have a heart problem."

Ginny looked startled. "I don't! Why would you say a thing like that?"

"Because people with a tendency towards high blood pressure need to watch their sodium. Personally, I don't have the problem and I love pretzels and beer. In fact, I think I'll have a couple more and ask someone else to drive me home. This is furthering a plan of my own."

"What plan is that?" Virginia asked.

"I need to gain some more weight. I've been working out a lot, particularly exercises that are supposed to increase the size of my boobs. I've promised myself I'll be in perfect shape — or as good as I can ever get — within sixty days — or die in the attempt. Right now I'm still too damned thin, and as flat as a board. Why do you hide your figure, Ginny? May I call you Ginny?"

Ginny smiled a very warm smile. "Of course. But Ali, isn't it ... unprofessional?"

Ali gave the girl her sunshine smile and said, "Names are names. They're neither professional nor unprofessional." She looked at the girl very carefully and then slowly shook her head. "Ginny, you are a first. Look, I'm a pro. I've done nude scenes. I've faked lovemaking with a full film crew watching. Where people are concerned, I see things most people don't. But you baffle me. I think you're a beautiful — and very sexy — girl. But I'm not sure. You do the best job — in fact, a nearly perfect job — of hiding it. Why?"

"Because I want to be respected for my brain, not for my tight little buns. Is that so wrong?" she replied.

Suddenly, Ali had an idea — and it seemed to fit what little she knew and had observed. "How old are you, Ginny?"

"I'm twenty-four," she replied. "Why?"

Ali ignored the question. "How old is Charley Conrad?"

"He's thirty-one or thirty-two. I've never been able to find out for sure," she replied. Suddenly, the girl turned bright red.

"Why are you blushing?" Ali asked. "Are you in love with Charley Conrad?" The girl nodded slowly. She looked miserable. "Well, what are you doing about it?"

Ginny looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean, 'What am I doing about it?' What can I do about it?"

Ali just looked at the girl steadily. "First, you could look like a woman. Ginny, I would be willing to bet you have a great figure, don't you?" The girl gave the smallest possible nod. "Your face I can see. You have to work hard to conceal its beauty. As far as your hair is concerned, I have a friend who's a hair stylist. In fact he's won a couple of Oscars. I don't think he could do a better job of 'uglifying' you than you did yourself. Why do you do it?"

Ali could see the girl's face start to crumble. She was very close to tears as she said, "That's all very well for you to say. You're a movie star. You're not supposed to have a brain. Just a body. I'm a lawyer! Lawyers use their brains, not their bods, for Christ's sake."

Ali just slowly shook her head as the girl was speaking. "Ginny, let me tell you something. I just got an investment management contract. It's paying me $2 million a year. Guess what? They don't give a shit if I'm green with purple polka dots. They care about investment performance, and I'm giving it to them."

She glared at the girl with blue fire coming from her eyes and continued. "I don't know why, but I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone. My marriage isn't consummated. My husband hasn't taken me ... yet. And believe me, it's not a question of physical capability, either. God, is he capable! Do you know what's the greatest time in my day? It's going to bed. I snuggle next to him as close as I can. With my head on his shoulder, he puts his arm around me and cups his hand over my right breast — what little there is of it. I put my hand over his to keep it in place and I go to sleep. I feel so warm and snugly and loved!

"You could take the investment management contract and shove it. I'm a woman! I think I have a very hot cunt. I long for his cock to be in it. I told you earlier I'm working hard to build up my boobs so he'll have something more to hold. I don't go around selling it or preaching it. Nevertheless, I think a girl needs a man to love her. And I'm using the word, needs, advisedly.

"Now, Ginny, let's get back to you. Are you afraid Charley won't talk to you if you fix yourself up? How do you really feel about him? You said you loved him. What have you done about it?"

She had been studying the younger girl carefully. Something had been bothering her — it was the hair color which was odd. It was like no hair color Ali had ever seen. And her eyes. There was something strange about them, too, when studied at close range. My God, she thought, This kid is wearing colored contact lenses! Then aloud she said, "Ginny, your natural hair color is auburn, isn't it?"

The girl's eyes widened in momentary astonishment. Then she reluctantly nodded.

"What color are your eyes? Green?"

This time the girl just ogled Ali. "Who are you, anyway? How could you possibly know that?"

Ali smiled. Things were starting to fall into place. "Ginny, where are you from? Did you have a bad sexual experience with a guy?"

Ginny shook her head.

This was going to be tougher than Ali thought. She asked, "Can I buy you dinner? I would like to continue this a bit longer ... and at a place where we could have more privacy? Are you interested?"

Ginny nodded reluctantly, and Ali went off to find Charley. She found him with a group of students who were discussing her legal problems with great animation. Charley told her the bull session was going to go on for a while and asked if he could get together with her later. They agreed to meet in her suite when he got off work on Friday afternoon.

For reasons she didn't fully understand Ali felt exhilarated as she went to rejoin Ginny. When she asked the girl if she had a car at school, Ginny said she did. Then Ali asked, "You live alone, don't you?" Again, Ginny's surprise showed in her eyes, but she nodded. "Nearby?" Ali asked. Again there was an affirmative nod. "Great! Get your car and I'll follow you to your apartment. We'll drop your car and use mine. Now let's go."

They went out to the parking lot. Ali was getting a picture of what was going on. Ginny's car — a nondescript Volkswagen — supported the picture. She got into her convertible and followed the girl to an equally nondescript apartment house and waited. Ginny walked up from the garage and got into the passenger seat. Ali smiled to herself as the girl luxuriated in the leather bucket seats. All is not yet lost, Ali thought. She drove to a nice restaurant she knew of and left the car with the valet. She asked the maître d'hôtel for a table for two in a quiet corner, giving him a twenty dollar bill as she did.

He looked at her and bowed deeply. "You're Ali McGrath, aren't you?" Ali nodded, and the maître d' beamed. "It is a great honor, Miss McGrath," he said as he ushered them to the table in the far corner of the room. "Is this satisfactory, Miss McGrath?" She smiled her assent and the two women were seated.

Ali excused herself and went to the phone to call Bill to tell him she would be late. She could hear the grin in his voice as he said, "Free at last!" Then he chuckled and said, "Have a good time, Sweetheart."

She told him where they were and quickly explained the situation. "Darling, would it be terribly inconvenient to have Fred pick us up later in the limo? Is that possible?"

She heard Bill's quiet chuckle again and his comment, "You're learning. You're slow, but you're learning. Darling, chauffeurs are for times when you feel like drinking a little more than you can safely drive on. How about if I have him there at nine-thirty. He'll just wait for you out front." She agreed and smiled fondly at the phone as she hung it up and went back to the corner booth.

She sat down and ordered two very dry Beefeater martinis, on the rocks. She was amused as Ginny's eyes widened as she placed the order. She looked at the younger girl and asked, "Ginny, are those contacts corrective? They're not, are they?" Ginny shook her head. "Then please do me a big favor? For God's sake, go to the ladies' room and take the damn things off. And while you're at it, see if you can remove some of that camouflage you're wearing?"

For reasons she didn't fully understand, Ginny did as she was asked and went to the ladies room. In a stall she removed waist padding and stuffed it into her capacious purse. Then she took off her blouse, removed her constricting bra, and put the blouse back on again. At the basin she carefully removed her contact lenses.

She smiled remembering the battle she had with the optician when she had insisted on the particular shade of brown. "Ginny," he had said, "That color is hideous! My God, girl, it's the worst color possible for you!"

He was right, of course, which was why she had insisted on it. She looked at herself in the mirror and felt strangely relieved to see her emerald-green eyes looking back at her. She rejoined Ali.

"You really did work at it, didn't you?" Ali said when Ginny returned to the booth.

Feigning ignorance, Ginny said, "Worked at what?"

Ali just shook her head. "You know, Ginny, it's a remarkable achievement. It's worthy of some of the best makeup people in Hollywood. Better, in fact. They only fool the camera which isn't really so hard to do. You fooled people who saw you up close. I still only see a vague hint of why, though. I think you read too much women's lib literature. You have read a lot of it, haven't you?"

Ginny nodded. Then her head came up and her eyes flashed with green fire. Ali thought her eyes were very beautiful. "What if I do? Men just want to put their cocks inside us. We're cavities for them to use to fill up with their fluids. We're not people, Ali, we're just cunts! I don't want to be just a cunt! I have a brain," she wailed. Ali could see she was close to breaking down into tears.

The waiter had brought their drinks and Ali offered a toast "to the practice of law." She then asked Virginia, "Just how experienced with men are you, anyway? You talk about being 'just a cunt for men to fill up with their fluids'. Is that the way you've been treated?"

"Well, no," Virginia replied reluctantly. "But that's only because I don't give them the chance. They always want to get in my pants." She glared at Ali with the last words.