re, we're in the groove now, but you never
can tell! I'll buy you an orchid, honey! Not roses, just one
orchid--black like your hair! Ever see a black orchid, hon? They're rare
and they're expensive!_

_Oh, darl, darl, hold me closer! The music goes round and round! It will
always be like that with us, honey! Don't ever be a square! That's all I
ask! Don't ever be a square! Cuddle up to me, let yourself go! When
you're dancing with one girl you should never look at another! Don't you
know that, Johnny!_

_Sure I know it, Doll! But did I ever claim I wasn't human?_

_Darl, doll, doll baby! Look all you want to! But if you ever dare--_

Moonson found himself relaxing a little. Dancing in all ages was closely
allied to love-making, but it was pursued here with a careless rapture
which he found creatively stimulating. People came here not only to
dance but to eat, and the thoughts of the dancers implied that there was
nothing stylized about a tavern. The ritual was a completely natural
one.

In Egyptian bas-reliefs you saw the opposite in dancing. Every movement
rigidly prescribed, arms held rigid and sharply bent at the elbows. Slow
movements rather than lively ones, a bowing and a scraping with bowls of
fruit extended in gift offerings at every turn.

There was obviously no enthroned authority here, no bejeweled king to
pacify when emotions ran wild, but complete freedom to embrace joy with
corybantic abandonment.

A tall man in ill-fitting black clothes approached Moonson's table,
interrupting his reflections with thoughts that seemed designed to
disturb and distract him out of sheer perversity. So even here there
were flies in every ointment, and no dream of perfection could remain
unchallenged.

He sat unmoving, absorbing the man's thoughts.

_What does he think this is, a bath house? Mike says it's okay to serve
them if they come in from the beach just as they are. But just one quick
beer, no more. This late in the season you'd think they'd have the
decency to get dressed!_

The sepulchrally-dressed man gave the table a brush with a cloth he
carried, then thrust his head forward like an ill-tempered scavenger
bird.

"Can't serve you anything but beer. Boss's orders. Okay?"

Moonson nodded and the man went away.

Then he turned to watching the girl. She was frightened. She sat all
alone, plucking nervously at the red-and-white checkered tablecloth. She
sat with her back to the light, bunching the cloth