which was what made this fellow really attractive.

He also had a certain sweetness about him. He wasn't at all like Glimp. Glimp was tart and pixie-like. This fellow had a baby-doll kind of innocence. Yet he wasn't entirely innocent. He had sexy legs and he knew it. But John was definitely more drawn to this fellow than to Glimp. What was it he had? Glimp had more personality. But also a definite insincerity. There was a part of Glimp that he kept jealously to himself. No one knew the real Glimp. But this fellow aroused a kind of sympathy in John. John felt more comfortable with him although he certainly knew him no better than he knew Glimp. But he felt a certain sense of peace around this boy as if he were quietly waiting for something. Yes, he preferred him to Glimp all right.

John fairly flew up the escalator, grabbed up all his books, said goodbye to Glimp (silently) and raced downstairs and over toward his new delight. He passed the boy from in front and noticed he was wearing a sign on his pocket. It was a name tag which read "Alan Aldrich." He must have come from some social affairmaybe a fraternity rush and forgotten to take it off.

"Hello, Alan," John said softly to himself. "I think you're kind of dreamy."

He sat down near Alan where he could admire his legs. God, but they were perfect. Long, slim, yet full, and covered with soft, blond hair, His feet were strong and high-arched and did the Bass Weejun company a very good credit.

Alan was aware of him. He had looked around and caught John looking at him. John had looked away. Of course this was routine. I look at you and you look at me. We both look away. The test would be if this boy Alan looked at him again when he

didn't have to, John would catch him in the act if he could.

He did. He felt Alan's eyes fixed on him, so he looked up suddenly. Alan looked away quickly, but not quickly enough. The tell-tale trick had worked. Alan was interested in him at least, a little . . .

Alan pressed his kness together twice, then spread his legs apart. He drummed on the table with his fingers and began to wiggle one foot nervously. He was "shook." John had cast a spell over him. He had not bargained for this. Twice, three times Alan looked at John. John looked back. Alan looked again. John's pulse was racing. He smiled. Alan looked away quickly, embarrassed. But not for long. He looked up again.

Now! Some action, maybe! John's heart was pounding. He looked again at the thick tangle of hair on Alan's legs. What would Alan think if John were to put his hand on one of his legs.

John's head was spinning and his breath was coming in funny short pants. Alan slid his feet back, one leg on either side of his chair. His calf muscles twitched and rippled under their covering of skin and hair and his left heel slipped impishly out of his shoe. This was too much! In another minute John would be over there. Something had to happen.

Alan got up from his seat and began to walk toward the door past him. He walked with an easy swing of his hips which accentuated the roundness of his behind. His shoes, slipping, made that sexy scuffing sound that always heralded an approaching college student.

"Okay you idiot," John said to himself. "Now you work fast. Alan has gone out for a cigarette. He wants you to follow him. You follow, and when you get out there fish around in your pocket, look annoyed, snap

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