That evening we went to the public baths. The lady at the cash register threw me into a lather when she asked, "Do you want to shower separately or together?" Or perhaps it was the way Philip deferred the question to me. We showered separately. The shower head was about 15 feet up on the wall and the water fell heavily onto me as I showered and cleaned myself in the way you clean yourself when you hope that later...
Later I lay on the floor of Philip's room and he lay in his bed and we talked and we talked. And he lay on his back and I lay on my back and the talk died down but... but... Somehow the bridge from here to there seemed a bridge too far. And he rolled over and peeked bright eyed over the bed and he asked in his gentle American way:-
"Well, I'm not sure how to say this. But I've been in this kinda situation before when, you know, you go on talking but really um, what you really want is to sleep together, so I wondered..."
It wasn't the most graceful or romantic of bridges, but any bridge is a bridge when it gets you next to a gleaming, golden torso.
Other memories jogged by this photo. Further memories. This Photo. All the Photos
and Irritating
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