I met up with Charlie again just outside the big Polynesian-decorated school bus that, stationary, served as the central point of the arts-and-fire campout that we come to every year. An hour ago she'd been scolding me for blinking as she put my eyeliner on; now, she was walking away from the bar with a big fruity drink in her hand.

"Hi there, gorgeous," I said to her.

"Hello again, handsome," she said back to me.

I didn't really know Charlie all that well - we were members of the same crowd that went to the same parties and all that - and every time I talked to her I wondered if she was flirting with me or just being the way she was: nice. She's a big girl around the hips and shoulders with doe-like brown eyes, and her posture alternates between nervous self-consciousness and party-girl abandon, depending on what music's playing and which of her friends are around.

I'd wanted Charlie since our 3rd party together and I still didn't know precisely why. She wasn't exactly good-looking but she projected a mixture of shy, smart-girl timidity and animal sensuality that I found subtly appealing.

Or not-so-subtly. Like right then outside the bus.

Part of the what I felt looking at her was her own appeal, and part of it was the night. There was a lot of sex in the air.

She reached up to brush something away from my eyes and I told her I'd been getting a lot of compliments on my make-up, thanks to her.

"Good," she said. "You look great tonight. I love this shirt," she added, and moved her hand down to finger the velour of the v-neck I was wearing. Her eyes darted away from mine nervously and pretended to be absorbed in the shirt's patterns.

This wasn't just flirting, or being nice. This was something else. I liked it.

"Nice night out tonight," I said. Inanely.

"It's beautiful," she concurred. The stars were out and it was very warm and there was just a hint of rain.

"Whatcha drinkin'?" I asked her.

"Something with rum in it," she said, laughed, and offered me a sip. It was very sweet, and very strong.

"Nice," I said. "Johnny must be bartending again."

"Johnny said that tonight's the night for dancing and drinking," she said, and gyrated in place briefly. "And for being bad."

"I'm going over to the dome to dance," I told her. "Meet you there, bad girl?"

"In a while," she answered. "I'm going to find Heidi first."

Heidi was her best friend, a slim woman with a big mane of thick, prematurely-graying hair and, as she'd once unabashedly announced over dinner, perfect 36C breasts. She was a first-class babe and I sometimes I was totally mystified as to why I wanted Charlie more than Heidi.

No I wasn't. I've always preferred zaftig women. That, and Heidi felt to me a little like more of a sister than a potential lover.

Not that I'd turn her down if it came to that. I am a guy, after all.

"Go get her, then," I said to Charlie, "and come dancing." And smiled broadly. It was going to be a good night.

She walked one way and I walked the other, and just as we had almost passed each other I grabbed her hand for a quick squeeze. She held on for a brief second, stretching our arms out as we moved away. I looked back over my shoulder at her and she was looking back at me, not so nervous now, holding my eyes for just that brief, not-necessary-but-so-delightful extra second.

I thought, Someone's sure gonna be bad tonight, and set out for the dome.