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eyes roamed approvingly over the parts of her boobs visible above her low-cut dress. He tried to penetrate the darkness between them, but was unable, and so he simply used his imagination, and experience, to mentally construct the roundness and fullness of her boobs and the purplish-brown nipple in the middle. Twenty years, or so, ago, she was real cunty Italian—his open hand pressed against the bareness of her back and his cheek was brushed by her black hair—and still had that look in her eyes and ass—and krist, her box was hot as it rubbed against his crotch while passing from one thigh to the other. He could feel the cold, metallic security of her wedding ring on his neck—he knew that somewhere between those luscious tits were a couple of short, black hairs, and he would love to jerk them out with his teeth—youre a good dancer, looking up at him with half-closed eyes and half-open mouth, I like the way you move your body—he could open her zipper just a little and slide his hand down her back and under her pants to that nice round ass and just lay his hand between her cheeks, feeling the small beads of sweat, and feel her ass grind his hand as he kept her tight against him—you make it easy. I fit right in. My husband doesnt dance. Used to a little bit, but no more. Says hes too tired. Well, I guess he works hard, (not as hard as my dick). But you need a little fun once in a while too, looking up at him again with the same open invitation, if you know what I mean? Yeah, smiling and nodding, I do. And anyway, who knows what hes doing right now in Poughkeepsie? (POUGHKEEPS1E! Holy shit!) Whats he doing there? really and truly wondering. Business. Always business.
    The music suddenly stopped, and Harry became conscious
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    of his hard-on. It did not embarrass him, but this was not the kind of party where he could walk her into a closet or the cellar and throw a quick hump into her, not that he was particularly fond of quickies, having given them up with his teens, but he was feeling the drinks and the urgency of his stiffened dick, and the image of the back yard and the huge shade tree quickly flashed through his mind. He disengaged his arm from her hands and excused himself. I/ll be back in a minute. He went to the bathroom and closed the door, then splashed some cold water on his face. Maybe I should take a cold hip bath, hahahaha. He dried his face, looked in the mirror, then at his crotch, then back in the mirror. Well, I guess everythings under control. Krist, I/d like to fuck that broad.
      He left the bathroom and stood for a moment looking around the room until he saw Gina with a couple of people in a corner. She was profiled toward him and the light seemed to shimmer on the roundness of her ass. He leaned in that direction—a stiff dick has no conscience—then suddenly turned and walked back in the direction of his grandmother, and sat down beside her.
    How you doing, ol girl?
      O, just fine, son. Having a grand old time. Its so good to see so many old friends, and to watch the young folks have so much fun.
      You mean teenie-bobbers like you? smiling and looking out of the corner of his eye toward Gina, wondering if he should at least try to get her phone number for future reference. Wondering, too, exactly what Ginas relationship was with the rest of the people and who might find out if he copped her drawers and what would happen. His folks would probably die from humiliation and—
      Come on May, this is my dance. An old friend, of many long and friendly years, stood in front of Harrys grandmother with his hand extended.
      Well, allright Otto, if you insist, but youre going to have to help me get out of this chair. Otto tugged, Harry pushed, and they all laughed.
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      Harry watched them dance, a bit of an eye still in the direction of Gina. He smiled, and glowed inwardly, as he watched them move around the floor, their movements slightly stiff from age, yet projecting a