'Clothes off, darling,' she said. 'You won't learn much fully dressed!

When he was stripped, she looked at him critically.

'You're not exactly Douglas Fairbanks, are you? Don't worry about it, it doesn't matter what you look like once the lights al - e out; it only matters what you can do.'

Abel sat on the edge of the bed while she started telling him about how to treat a lady. She was surprised that Abel really did not want her and was even more surprised when he continued to turn up every day for the next two weeks.

'When will I know I've made it?'Abel inquired.

'You'll know, baby,' replied Joyce. 'If you can make me come, you can make an Egyptian mummy come!

She taught him first where the sensitive parts of a woman's body were, and then to be patient in his love - making and the signs by which he might know that what he was doing was pleasing. How to use his tongue and lips on every place other than a woman's mouth.

Abel listened carefully to all she said and followed her instructions scrupulously and to begin with, a little bit too mechanically. Despite her assurance that he was improving out of all recognition, he had no real idea if she was telling the truth, until about three weeks and one hundred and ten dollars later, when to his surprise and delight, Joyce suddenly - came alive in his arms for the first time. She held his head close to her as he gently licked her nipples. As he stroked her gently between the legs, he found she was wet - for the first time - and after he had entered her she moaned, a sound Abel had never heard before, and found intensely pleasing. She clawed at his back, commanding him not to stop. The moaning continued, sometimes loud, sometimes soft. Finally she cried out sharply, and the hands that had clutched him to her so fiercely relaxed.

When she had caught her breath, she said. 'Baby, you just graduated top of the class.'

Abel hadn't even come.

Abel celebrated the awarding of both his degrees by paying scalpers'

price for ringside seats and taking George, Monika and a reluctant Clara to watch Gene Tunney fight Jack Dempsey for the 'heavyweight championship of the world. That night after the fight, Clara felt it was nothing_ less than her duty to go to bed with Abel as he had spent so much money on her. By the morning, she was begging him not to leave her.

Abel never asked her out agaim After he had graduated from Columbia, Abel became dissatisfied with his life at the Plaza Hotel, but could not figure out how to secure further advancement. Although he was surrounded by some of the most wealthy and successful men in America, he was unable to approach any of the customers directly, knowing that if he did so, it might weU cost him his job and in any case, the customers could not take seriously the aspirations of a waiter. Abel had long ago decided that he wanted to be a head waiter.

One day, Mrw and Mrs. Ellsworth Statler came to lunch at the Plaza's Edwardian Room, where Abel had been on relief duty for a week. He thought his chance had come. He did everything he could think of to impress the famous hotelier, and the meal went splendidly. As he left, Statler thanked Abel warmly and gave him ten dollars, but that was the end of their association. Abel watched him disappear through the revolving doors of the Plaza, wondering if he was ever going to get a break.

Sammy, the head waiter tapped him on the shoulder: 'What did you get from Mr. Statler?'

'Nothing,' said Abel.

'He didn't tip you?' asked Sammy in a disbelieving tone.

'Oh, yes, sure,' said Abel. cTen dollars.' He handed the money over to Sammy.

'That's more like it,' said Sammy. 'I was beginning to think you was double - dealing me, Abel. Ten dollars, that's good even for Mr. Statler.

You must have impressed him~ 'No, I didn't.'

'What do you mean?'asked Sammy.

'It doesn't matter,' said Abel, as he started walking away.

'Wait a moment, Abel, I have a note here for you. The gentleman at table seventeen, a Mr. Leroy, wants to speak to you personally.'

'What about, Sammy?'

'How should I know? Probably Eked your blue eyes? Abel glanced over to number seventeen, strictly for the meek and the unknown, because the table was so badly placed near a swing door into the kitchen. Abel usually tried to avoid serving any of the tables at that end of the room.

'Who is he?' asked Abel. 'What does he want?'

'I don't know,' said Sammy, not bothering to look up. 'I'm not in touch with the life history of every customer the way you are. Give them a good meal, make sure you get yourself a big tip and hope they come again. You may feel it's a simple philosophy but ies sure good enough for me. Maybe they forgot to teach you the basics at Columbia. Now get your butt over there, Abel, and if its a tip be certain yod bring the money straight back to me.'