by G W Thomas
Janet Schomburg rang hands with the Cynadian delegate one last time. The Cynadians had come to Earth in a huge spaceship. Six hundred of them, all female, like a nest of bees. And now Janet Schomburg was the envy of all her friends.
"Thank-you -Janet," the Cynadian said in her best English. "You-are-the-perfect-host."
Janet wondered later why the Cynadian had said "host" instead of "hostess". The Cynadians had faultless translators. Still, what did it matter? She wondered as she scratched her hand for the fifth time. So itchy...
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