The ballroom was crowded when I stepped into the room. The music was loud and the beer was flowing. I worked my way through the gyrating bodies to the bar, and asked for a Fosters. Leaning back, my elbows on the bar, I scanned the room.

‘Humm,’ I thought as I spied a circle of sailors across the room, ‘What have we here.’
I ordered another Fosters, to save myself and trip, and worked my way across the room.

Six American sailors surrounded a beautiful young girl, her eyes wide, like a deers in the headlights. She sat, cross legged on the edge of a pool table. She had short, white blonde hair, and pale blue eyes. She filled out a white blouse, and wore her navy blue skirt short. Her legs were tanned and, with her toe, she toyed with one of her high heels.

The sailors were bombarding her with stupid questions. I straightened up my Marine blouse, reached a hand through the circle of men and asked her to dance. And so it was, we danced all night.