My full name is Jerome Douglas Marshal but everyone calls me J.D. Several years ago Carla and I and Walt Truman and a Barbra Milton went dancing. An orchestra provided the music. It was the kind of music to dress up for and to dance close. The place was crowded and most of the women wore evening gowns. Carla and Barbra’s gowns had slits up the left side which gave constant thigh-high glimpses of their nylon covered legs while the neckline of Carla’s gown was cut so low it seemed any movement would pop her breasts free; but it never did happen. She and I had been through some tough times together but I was hoping the worst of the tough times were behind us and on that particular night she was happy and confident and she looked radiant. Life had given me a second chance. I hadn’t had a drink in over two years. She and I were looking for a place to rent together in the city. The four of us danced on the crowded dance floor.

“Who is she?” Carla asked.

“Beats me,” I told her. “He said she enrolled in one of his night classes.”

I looked over at Walt and Barbra. Walt was a big man but moved lightly on his feet. He and Barbra twirled smoothly across the floor while looking into each other’s eyes.

“Oh, my goodness.”

“Carla, don’t stare.”

rent apartment in kiev “Is she married? Divorced? Have any children?”

“I don’t know anything about her.”

Carla looked up at me and smiled as we moved across the floor. Not once that night did I step on her feet.

“Yes you smug bastard you’re getting better.” She straightened my bow tie.

I said, “I have a good teacher.”

She sighed.

“Happy?” I asked.

“Why can’t we always be like this?” she said.

I leaned back and looked her over. “Yes that is certainly a very lovely dress.”

“Do you really, really like it?”

“Tonight I’m going to rip it off of you.”

“J.D. you do and you’ll be paying for a whole new outfit. Handbag, shoes, undies, the works.”

“How much did you pay for it?”

“More than you can afford.”

As the evening went on we found out Barbra Milton was three years divorced with a six year old daughter and she taught high school math while taking a graduate course in the evening to further her ambition of some day being a high school principal. She enjoyed swimming and dancing and bike riding and watching silent films.

When we sat back down the waiter came over and the others ordered another round of drinks.

“Sir,” the waiter said to me, “you’re entitled to as many refills as you like.”

“Thank you.”