Sometimes she wore a knit cap pulled down over her ears to ward off the cold. I always knew it was her, though. I knew every nuance of her walk, the...length of her stride, the motion of her hips, the way she carried herself.I was finding myself attracted to my “walking girl,” as I came to call her. I don't know exactly why. She was physically attractive, to my eye, but then, a number of women are. I work with some really good-looking women, and I have a few pretty female friends, but none. "Want to go to a party tonight?" I asked."Sure. Where?" At the pool after dark," I told her. "There will be lots of alcohol, and we'll all go swimming by moonlight." That sounds like fun," she said as we reached the Quonset hut that served as the camp laundry."What sounds like fun?" Abby asked. She was coming out as we walked in."A party," Patrice said."Uh, it's a secret, uh, from the administration," I hedged. I hadn't meant for Abby to hear about it."Why?" Patrice asked. "They know we drink. More

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