Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/220

 "Put Gaite on, Gene," Claude said, looking at Gene who was changing the records on the radio combination.

"Honey, your mother knows your number. I've already got it," Gene cried, holding up the twelve inch disc …

Everyone giggled and clapped their hands.

As the music began, Claude, standing in a posed position, kicked off his shoes.

"Take off your clothes, Claude …" a shout rang out.

"Show those beautiful muscles," screamed another.

"Okay …" he grinned … "you asked for it."

Claude walked gracefully to the middle of the room, his hands held high above his head. Bringing them down, he began to unbutton the thin sport shirt he was wearing.

"Lovely!" someone yelled with exultation as the shirt opened, showing a smooth and masculine chest, covered with a layer of curly black hair.

Someone blew out a candle after he had requested it … another went out … then another … and another until the room was quite dark.

With willowy movements he pulled his shirt from his shoulders, held it a moment and then let it fall. He ran his hands over his spasmodic chest, circling the upper body with restless gestures, a hand flying up as if to reach the smoke covered ceiling, then coming down quickly it rested for a second on the buckle of his belt. The other moving arm slid slowly down, helping the other unfasten the narrow strip of leather that circled his slender waist. With a swift jerk he yanked out the belt, throwing it wildly in the air.

He danced around the center of the room, shaking his body, trying to rid it of the heavy burden that shadowed it. Then, he stopped; his hands went down quickly to his trousers; unfastening them, they fell to his feet. With two steps he was out of them.

Now, he moved like a ballet dancer. Tenderly, he held out his hands as if he were waving a last goodbye to a lover he would never see again. His swaying figure looked beautiful in the soft candlelight. The muscles of his long legs were tense and quivering as he glided on his toes over the soft carpet.

"Mazie, look at that!" whispered Cleo, watching the front of the