"Excuse m-me—" Lennox stammered. "You're in the—"
"Hello Beulah," she said in a shrill fag's falsetto.
"My God!" Lennox was appalled. "You're in drag? I never—"
The fag blocked the door and regarded him seductively.
"You're such a fast one," he said. "Miss Track Meet making her appointed rounds. Who were you looking for? Pretty me?"
"Listen," Lennox said, trying to be patient. "You're cruising the wrong number, girl. Would you mind getting out of the way?"
"Mary! She's in such a hurry," the fag giggled without moving. Lennox took his elbow and shoved politely. Suddenly he lost control and slammed the blonde violently against the wall. He let out a piercing, falsetto shriek. Lennox yanked open the door and ran.
As he crossed the dance floor to his table, a large ebony hand reached out and stopped him. He turned and there was Gabby dancing with a powerful bald-headed gentleman whose skin was stretched so tightly across the big bones of his head that his face looked skeletal.
"Cool, Clarence," he said in a foggy voice. "Here's yuh chick. No, honey, yuh haven't got it right. It's a one and a tuh and a zig-zag-zig!"
"Mr. Norman?"