...and then Joy is leading Don into their room. I'm no fan of hers, but if a trip to bed is what it's going to take to get us the hell out of Palm Springs, so be it. After she takes off her dress, he steps forward and asks how old she is, and the answer is twenty-one. He tells her he's thirty-six, and then asks with some wonder who she is, but she simply tells him she's Joy. She takes off her bra, lies on top of him, and then we rather chastely cut to a commercial. Considering they teased us with the prospect of nudity, it seems like a gyp that he didn't even take his shirt off.
Finally, back to New York! In the break room, massive quantities of doughnuts have appeared. Harry wonders if Ken brought the account in, and Joan says she hasn't seen contracts yet, but the doughnuts are a good sign. Well, maybe for the bottom line, but not for the waist line. (Sorry, being around these particular Euros makes me head for the Catskills.) Ken and Sal enter (Smith and Smeeth are already there) and Ken announces that they'll be getting a delivery like this every week. Peggy pops in, and Smeeth reminds her about their Bob Dylan date that's apparently happening that evening. Peggy hunches over the coffee as everyone gives them some good-natured ribbing, but Smeeth drops this bomb: "I am homosexual." Referring to Smeeth's ESL status, Ken replies, "I don't think that means what you think it means," which, aside from a coffee-and-doughnut spit-take, is about the best thing that could have happened. Smith tries to caution Smeeth from going further, but Smeeth, with a hilariously stern "no" Smith's way, declares he's uninterested in American closets as he explains that he makes love with men, not women. The reactions around the room are so good that they have to be itemized: Joan, probably having memories of Carol, simply side-eyes deliciously; Peggy, learning she's a fag hag before the term even exists, turns back to the coffee pot in horror; Ken's face manages to collapse and freeze at the same time; Harry, after an eternal pause, raises his eyebrows and asks, "What?"; Sal hopes no one sees him clearly as he hangs on to his doughnut for dear life. So well-acted and directed and just all-around awesome, and Smeeth just jumped so far in my estimation that I think I have to start calling him "Kurt" purely out of respect. So Kurt, completely unfazed by the fact that everyone's catching flies, confirms that he and Peggy are on for eight ("Of course! Absolutely!"), and leaves, right behind his date. Harry asks Smith if he knew about this, and Smith, by way of admitting it, answers, "He's from Europe. It's different there," and then adds, "More for me," with a leer at Joan. Harry, while referring to Kurt as a "pervert," still seems pretty chill about the whole thing, as, of course, does Joan, but Ken opines that he doesn't want to work with "queers." Smith asks if Kurt is really the first "homo" he's ever met in advertising before walking out, and Ken and Harry make further comments while Sal wonders if he's going to have to keep up appearances further by actually having intercourse with his wife.