Radio romances (July-Dec 1945)

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intoxication. Next Saturday! — that meant he was taking it for granted that we would be seeing each other again! I knew then that I wanted to see him, to dance with him, to talk and argue with him, more than I had ever wanted anything in my life. And while we danced and his arms held me tight and close under the artificial blue moonlight of the muted spotlights above the dance floor, an exquisite, hurting sweetness welled up inside me until I thought I couldn't stand it. Until I had to move away from him, slightly, so that his strong body could not touch me. It was late and the house was dark when we came home. We lingered for a moment on the steps and Johnny's face was gloomy. "Do you mean I can't see you for a whole week except after you get through work at the theater? Can't you take a vacation, Mary Ellen?" He hesitated for a . moment, and then plunged on. "I — I hate to think of you working there. You look so darn cute in that uniform and it kills me to think of other men looking at you and trying to date you." I felt myself stiffening in anger. "TPHAT'S a horrible thing to say!— ■*• men looking at me! Girls are working in uniforms everywhere — in gas stations and running buses and in the Ar iy, too. Do you think it will be any dif rent when I'm a secretary and we ing dresses? It may not seem like mu 1 to you, but it's my job and I like it." ". ary Ellen!" He was so alarmed that he s ripped my shoulders, hard. "I'm sorj — I only wanted — I guess I'm just jeal as. I guess when any man falls in love he feels like shutting his girl up in a castle so that no one else can look at her." The silence that fell between us then was a hushed and waiting thing, alive. When a man falls in love! We looked at each other in startled, heart-caught awareness — the twinkle in his eyes changed to a kindling, burning glow — my own pulses had stopped beating. And then he was holding me, kissing me with a desperate hunger. This is it, I remember thinking as his mouth closed on mine. This — this glorious tide that trembled through my body — this is the purpose and the meaning of being alive. This was the meaning of those restless, Spring-drenched days that had sent my feet wandering, tramping the hills, until my body was tired and I could sleep. This was the Unknown that dragged me from my bed on nights of harvest-moon to sit with my forehead pressed against cool panes, my heart aching with the beauty of it — and with an unnameable longing. This was the end — and the beginning. Johnny was not just another boy I had met. His arms around me belonged there and my lips under his answered his love. Then there were no more thoughts — they were swept away in the wave of feeling. "Johnny — " I whispered, when I could finally get my breath — "I love you so much — and I'm so afraid our love will hurt us — " I couldn't go on. I couldn't put my fears into words. "Hurt us?" He was perplexed. His hands trembled in my hair. "How could anything so wonderful hurt us? It's all so plain now — no more wondering, no more searching. Just us, from now on. The path is so clear, all marked out for us by all the other people who have fallen in love and got married ARE Y OUR (j( (MAMlA CHARM-REVEALING or must they be CHARM-CONCEALING because of — Must you forego the joy of wearing glamour gowns because of ugly psoriasis lesions? Then try SIROIL. It may solve this problem for you. SIROIL tends to remove the crusts and scales of psoriasis which are external in character and located on the outer layer of the skin. If or when your psoriasis lesions recur, light applications of SIROIL will help keep them under control. Applied externally, SIROIL does not stain clothing or bed linens, nor does it interfere in any way with your daily routine. Try it. 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