Electric Blue. Nancy Bush
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There were several other naked women already in the pool, their heads turbaned to keep their hair safe from moisture. I found my inhibitions had left me. I sipped my tea and tried to think good thoughts. The surrounding mist and ferns fed a seventies feel-good revival.
It took Miriam another half hour before she appeared. By that time I was seriously pruned and ready to get the hell out. But I waited. She looked flushed and blotchy. If she and Trevin hadn’t massaged a few parts not recommended in the Complete Me handbook, I was a monkey’s uncle.
My other pool buddies had left by the time Miriam headed straight toward me. As she dropped her robe I started thinking about her having sex with Trevin and sharing water with me, and I was instantly sure this was a bad, bad idea. Now, I know you could say the same thing about a community swimming pool. You don’t know what the other pool-ees have been up to before joining in the water. And I’d just been with several other women who hadn’t flipped me out at all.
But Miriam reeked of sex.
I moved to the far end of the tub and reminded myself that chlorine is a germ killer. This was no time to let my phobias overtake me. Not with a God-sent opportunity to interrogate the woman.
I smiled at her. She flicked me a look. I realized then that her suffused skin was from a different emotion entirely: anger. She was infuriated. Rage pulsed through her like an electrical charge.
Uh-oh.
I said, “How was your massage with Trevin?”
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