“Good ol’ Tony,” Marty said happily to himself, and poured out a second drink. He had downed that and was working on his third when Margie reappeared.

“Thought you’d never get through in there,” he said.

He looked at her.

“How do you like?” she said.

She was wearing a filmy pink dressing-gown which revealed a lot of what was underneath. She wasn’t wearing anything under the gown. Marty could see the hint of firm, full breasts, long creamy legs, a supple body. Maybe Margie was getting along in years, but she still had plenty of body left, he thought.

“I like,” he said.

“Have another drink.”

He poured one for her and another for him. His head was starting to swim. He reached out to grab her, but she ducked away.

“Naughty, naughty! Have another drink first.”

The level in the bottle was diminishing rapidly. Marty realized vaguely that he was drinking about two and a half shots for every one of hers, but he didn’t care. He was perfectly sober. Hadn’t Tony told him he could hold his liquor? He had another drink. And another.

His head rocked deliriously. Margie seemed to be circling in orbit around him, like a lovely sputnik. She put some music on and pulled him up to dance with her, and he wobbled around the floor, full of liquor and dizzied by her nearness and warmth.

“Margie—Margie—” he mumbled.

After a while the bottle was empty and the radio was silent. He was holding her tight in his arms and his head felt ready to explode.

“Come on with me,” she said.

She led him into the adjoining bedroom and dropped him down on the bed. He felt her unbuttoning his uniform and then felt her warmth against him. It was all very nice, though he hardly knew what was going on.

“Margie—”

Darkness welled up around him. He felt very tired, very drunk, very happy.

He wanted to sleep.

To sleep.

After a while, he slept.

* * *

He didn’t know what happened next. He was out cold on the bed, so he didn’t see the girl pick up his bell-bottoms and pull out his wallet. Didn’t see her take the remnants of the thick bankroll from it.

Marty didn’t hear the knock on the door either. He didn’t see Margie go over to answer it, nor did he see the lean, thin man in sailor’s uniform come in.

Margie said. “He’s asleep. Like a little baby, out cold.”

“Let me see him.”

The lean man looked down on the sleeping figure. He chuckled. “Like a little baby,” he said.