Ginger went to Gilligan's hut with the radio a couple minutes before eight. She'd thought it over and decided it would be less awkward if he didn't pick her up for their date at her hut. Even though Mary Ann was still acting like this all had nothing to do with her, Ginger did feel funny that her roommate knew the truth. The Skipper still thought these were dance lessons, and even if he had known the truth, he probably would've approved. Gilligan was 23 now and the Skipper likely would've been pleased that Ginger was finally going to "make a man out of Gilligan." The Skipper was obviously attracted to Ginger himself, which he'd never made any secret of, as with the beauty pageant, but he wouldn't have begrudged Gilligan this. Still, she wasn't in any hurry to tell the Skipper, and Gilligan clearly wasn't either.

When she arrived, the Skipper was helping Gilligan tie his tie. She was a little surprised that Gilligan was dressing up, in what looked like a hand-me-down suit from Mr. Howell. But she supposed if he were going to Arthur Murray's dance studio, he would dress up for that. She was wearing her favorite gown, a little worse for wear, but then it wasn't like she could go shopping. Every once in awhile, clothes would wash ashore, or fashion magazines that would allow her and Mary Ann to update their outfits. Mary Ann had embraced the miniskirt as soon as she heard of it, but Ginger still preferred long, clingy dresses. Her dress made out of Gilligan's old duffel bag was usually the shortest she wore.

"Oh, you're early," Gilligan said as he spotted her.

"Sorry."

"That's OK."

"Gilligan," the Skipper nudged his little buddy, "tell Ginger how nice she looks."

"You do. Look nice."

"What, this old thing? You look very dapper."

Gilligan shrugged. "Thanks."

The Skipper shook his head and handed Gilligan two cane chairs. "Here, take these."

Gilligan looked puzzled. "She's not giving me sitting lessons."

"No, but part of dancing is asking a lady to dance. And you're not going to be on your feet for four hours, are you?"

"Uh, I guess not."

Ginger tried not to smile too much. "Thank you, Skipper. Gilligan, we should be running along."

"OK."

They both said goodbye to the Skipper, who told them to have fun. Ginger was starting to wonder if the Skipper had figured out what these lessons really were, but if he was going to keep pretending they were about dancing, she would, too.

As they walked along, she said, "You did a nice job on the chairs."

"Thanks, but I just did one of them. The Skipper did the other one, but he said they were for our hut. I didn't know he wanted them for the 'dance lessons,' too."

Ginger again wondered how much the Skipper had guessed, but she decided to not say anything to Gilligan, even if she got proof that the Skipper was clued in. The poor boy was self-conscious enough as it was, and he didn't need to know that Mary Ann knew and the Skipper might know. Especially since the Skipper and Mary Ann were unlikely to say anything to Gilligan about it.

"Where are we going?" Gilligan asked when they had cleared the clearing and were presumably out of earshot of the other castaways.

"This way," she said, pointing to the left path. She hadn't thought to bring chairs but she had scoped out a location that was secluded and romantic enough for her purposes and yet could plausibly be a makeshift dance studio

He followed slightly behind, not slowed down much by the chairs. She realized suddenly that he wasn't always clumsy, even though she suspected he was nervous that night.

She had decided this morning that she should make the major decisions for this relationship, because Gilligan was so shy and uncertain. He could certainly speak up if he disagreed, but she felt like she had to move things forward and let him him follow her lead. Announcing, to the Professor of all people, that she would be claiming Gilligan's attention four hours every night had been a bold move, but she wanted Gilligan to know her plan. He wouldn't be able to argue with it then, but he could question it later in privacy if he wanted. And then she'd just tell the Professor later that Gilligan was a better dancer than she expected and he didn't need as much teaching as she thought.

She'd been surprised, amused, and intrigued by the Professor's offer to crank the record player for them. Obviously, she couldn't take him up on it, but she had to wonder why he'd offered. Yes, he usually took care of the music when they did a play or something requiring music, but four hours a night? Was he suspicious of her lessons and trying to protect Gilligan's innocence? Maybe he thought of her as the wicked, (slightly) older seductress. Or could he have actually been jealous of Gilligan's lessons and trying to interfere with them? Or maybe he did really think they were dance lessons and was just trying to be helpful.

This path ended in a small clearing. The full moon was just visible through a gap in the trees, and the sweet scent of orchids filled the air.

Gilligan set down the chairs and said, "Too bad we don't have a table."

"What do we need a table for?"

"So I can practice pulling out your chair."

He seemed to think that she was going to teach him etiquette, but she knew that the Howells had covered that when they temporarily adopted him.

"Well, we're going to stand for awhile." She set the radio on a chair and turned it on.

"Oh, so we are dancing." He sounded disappointed.

"Among other things." She found a slow song and then waited.

Gilligan took his hat off and held it in both hands. "Uh, may I have this dance?"

"You may."

He put his hat back on his head and took her in his arms. She thought of how he must lead, as the man, yet she must guide him. It would be a delicate balance.

She did murmur some instructions, but mostly they moved just a little and got used to holding each other close. This was an important step, and it felt very nice anyway. She had missed this.

When the radio went to a commercial, she said, "Let's sit down."

"OK."

They sat and she took his hand, which was warm. "How do you like it so far?" she asked with a smile.

"I like it, but I don't really know what to expect."

"I don't either," she admitted. "I've never taught anyone like this and you're an unusual pupil."

"Um, thank you."

She laughed and was going to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head and soon his mouth was enthusiastically kissing hers.