They fled their way into a brownstone house. It was one of those brownstones that are completely gutted inside and re-done in modern taste. It was also obvious that a large noisy party was going on inside. Speakers carried the sound of a jazz combo playing somewhere in the depths of the house. Nancy hesitated at the crowd around the door, but found herself propelled forward from all sides as they waded into the din of laughter and conversation and people standing elbow to elbow.

The whole house was packed with people as they inched their way deeper into the party. The air was thick with cigarette smoke, and everyone seemed to be drinking. Nancy, still shaken from her lewd daydreaming, tried hard to get her bearings. A drink was shoved in her hand, and Rita was shouting in her ear.

"Hey, this is Tom. My Tom. Tom, baby, I want you to meet Nancy Dodge. Remember the Nancy I talked about? This is her."

Nancy looked into the sweating face of a handsome man who was just beginning to get a little fat. He looked at her face, and then looked up and down her body, un-nerving Nancy, for it was almost as if he had guessed what she had been thinking in the cab. He almost made her feel naked the brash way he looked at her breasts and the brazen way he looked at the fertile and velvety "vee" where her vagina nestled behind her dress. She felt she really didn't like him as he let out a low long wolf-whistle and said, "Hi, Nancy, welcome aboard."

Her instinct was to distrust and avoid him, yet she was feeling absolutely no pain and was completely swept up in the excitement and fun of the night: this was going to be something she would remember for a long while. She giggled, realizing there were already things that she didn't dare tell Allan about. She felt a little wicked when she thought about telling Allan about the obscene stranger. She could never tell him about the foul-mouthed man.