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"
What
’
s
funny
,
honey
?
"
And
here
he
was
again
,
in
the
ballroom
.
The
chandelier
was
lit
and
couples
were
circling
all
around
them
,
some
in
costume
and
some
not
,
to
the
smooth
sounds
of
some
postwar
band
-
but
which
war
?
Can
you
be
certain
?
No
,
of
course
not
.
He
was
certain
of
only
one
thing
:
he
was
dancing
with
a
beautiful
woman
.
She
was
tall
and
auburn
-
haired
,
dressed
in
clinging
white
satin
,
and
she
was
dancing
close
to
him
,
her
breasts
pressed
softly
and
sweetly
against
his
chest
.
Her
white
hand
was
entwined
in
his
.
She
was
wearing
a
small
and
sparkly
cat
’
seye
mask
and
her
hair
had
been
brushed
over
to
one
side
in
a
soft
and
gleaming
fall
that
seemed
to
pool
in
the
valley
between
their
touching
shoulders
.
Her
dress
was
full
-
skirted
but
be
could
feel
her
thighs
against
his
legs
from
time
to
time
and
had
become
more
and
more
sure
that
she
was
smoothand
-
powdered
naked
under
her
dress
,
(
the
better
to
feet
your
erection
with
,
my
dear
)
and
he
was
sporting
a
regular
railspike
.
If
it
offended
her
she
concealed
it
well
;
she
snuggled
even
closer
to
him
.
"
Nothing
funny
,
honey
,
"
he
said
,
and
giggled
again
.
"
I
like
you
,
"
she
whispered
,
and
he
thought
that
her
scent
was
like
lilies
,
secret
and
hidden
in
cracks
furred
with
green
moss
-
places
where
sunshine
is
short
and
shadows
long
.
"
I
like
you
,
too
.
"
