Rickhart had dimmed the lights, now. The
record on the phonograph was an LP that seemed to be made up entirely of slow,
erotically-stirring dance music. She and Longstreet moved slowly in rhythm. The
strip-poker game, Lenore saw clearly now, had been just a means of getting
everyone's clothes off in a spicy and yet somehow innocent way. This was the
real purpose of the party, though. A cozy little game of switching mates.
The record came to its end.
Rickhart glided over and changed it. The next one began with a wild rhumba. It
was a startling experience to do a rhumba in the nude. Four couples moving
rapidly on the dance floor. Breasts bouncing crazily, buttocks jiggling, bodies
colliding. Lenore caught sight of Joy Robbins undulating hectically, snapping
her fingers flamenco style, her big breasts bouncing and quivering like big
balls of loose jelly. The room took on a frenzied, feverish atmosphere. Lenore
felt her own inhibitions giving way completely in the pagan fervor of the dance.
Rivulets of sweat rolled down her breasts and belly. Her body began to gleam in
the dimness.
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