that golden flesh.

And in a twinkling the moment was swept into eternity, for Oakie jumped up and with a, "Cripes, It's dead in here!" began to spin the radio's dial in a frantic search for some livelier music.

The rhythms and raucous reed tones of a jazz band pounded into the barracks. and wrested the attentions of the card players from the games toward Oakie, who, with eyes closed and clutching an imaginary partner in his arms, danced around the space between the tables.

Someone shouted, "Hey, Muzzo! C'mere and show him how they do it in Gary!"

And while the scrappy little Italian from Gary jitterbugged around the prancing Oakie, the others moved the tables and benches back and then gathered round the edge of the clearing to urge the two dancers on with their finger snapping and hand clapping.

The jazzy music came to an abrupt and throbbing close and was followed by a slow and sinuous rhumba.

"Hey, Pancho! Pancho Villa! Now it's your turn-this is your kind of music!"

Eager hands clapped him on the shoulders and shoved him toward the center of the floor.

"You show 'em, Pancho! Now we're really gonna see something!"

And he moved into the circle of snapping fingers and bright eyes, dancing to the lazy music of the rhumba, as the rhythm undulated up from the floor, through his feet and upward to his thighs and hips.

The rhumba melted away and was followed by a bright fox trot, and Krowalsky, who had stepped into a pair of shorts, came forward. With a mock bow to Tim, he pantomimed, "May I have this dance?" and to the delight of the spectators they danced round and round to the music.

The others became caught up in the spirit of the game, and soon the room was filled with couples clad in tee shirts and shorts, gravely and self consciously trying to follow each others' leads.

Krowalsky and Tim were cut-in on by Monk; he in turn was cut-in, and after four or five changes, Tim found himself once again following Krowalsky's lead.

Oakie bore down on them, but was brusquely dismissed by the blond who tightened his grip on Tim and muttered, "Go find your own damn' partner!"

As they danced on, Tim became aware of the short hairs on Krowalsky's thighs brushing against his own bare legs. They dipped and turned around the room, close together so close that Tim could smell the soapy warmth of Krowalsky's body. He was also aware of the pleasure with which he felt Krowalsky's hot palm against the small of his back, and feel the prickle of the copper hairs on the other's chest against his own bare torso.

The warmth, the scent and the sensations proved his undoing, for he felt his own reaction betray him.

With a mumbled, "I'm dizzy . . . I'm dizzy . . ." Tim broke away from Krowalsky, and bent over in order to hide his shame, stumbled over and fell face down on his bunk.

Someone stuck his head in the door and bellowed, "Ah-RIGHT, you guys! I hate to break up such a lovely party, but lights go out in fifteen minutes and it's your ass in a sling if this place ain't squared away and you're all in the sack by then!"

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