"Let's have a couple more drinks, Harry, darling—you know, I believe I'm going to enjoy this after all."
"I know I am," as he put his huge arms around her cool, pink body.
"Well—so help me—what the Hell is coming off here?" said Evelyn, as she came into the bathroom, her face blank in wonderment.
"Oh, Jees—this is great—let's have a drink," said Henry, as he came in behind Evelyn. "You know, Ev, we might as well join the merry, mad gang—what do you say?"
"I dare you, Henry," answered Evelyn, as she started to strip with speed.
Pearl, in Harry's arms, leaped into the milling, singing, drinking, wrestling mob, in the semi-dark room, held tight in each others' arms, naked bodies rubbed against each other, strangers kissed passionately, lovers kissed more passionately, enemies kissed less passionately, but kissed—in their drunken orgy they had forgotten what they were enemies about—couples who had been dancing longer than the others fell on the floor, locked in each others' arms, their legs stuck grotesquely in the air above them, while their burning wet lips were pressed tightly against each others' mouths, stopping only long enough to take a drink.
A shriek from the bathroom—Evelyn and Henry leaped into the mob, naked as the rest—"Shake it up, baby," screamed Evelyn, as she and Henry in a tight embrace started singing and dancing with the rest; as the other couples fell to the floor newer and fresher couples joined the throng—only to fall later on the floor, to continue the party with mad, wet kisses, and—?
"My snow-white darling, I have love you so veer long, I weel never love but you—I have never love no one but you—only you—my darling—my darling—" came a soft voice near Pearl's ear, and as she looked closely, she saw it was the tall, handsome Moros, with the blonde Irene in his arms.
"Get your Goddam foot out of my face," yelled a drunken voice.
"My humble pardon, Senor—I am looking for some one," answered the deep, sober voice of a Mexican woman.