Electric Blue. Nancy Bush
hour is not up.”
“I’m okay with that.”
Drago gave me a long look. My smile was tremulous. I couldn’t help it. I felt tired all over. He took pity on me and nodded curtly. “You should take a sauna. Ease those muscles. You know where the sauna room is?”
“Yes,” I lied.
“Along this hall to the left.” His mind clearly wasn’t on my answer.
“Thanks.”
“I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
He left rather stiffly, as if I’d insulted him somehow. Quickly I climbed off the bed and grabbed the robe, which was deliciously warm. My muscles felt liquid. I had to concentrate on them to keep them moving. Tiptoeing hurriedly to the wall, I listened hard. The damn music was in the way. Carefully, I dialed it back down.
There was faint murmuring and laughter coming from the other room. Love talk. I could picture them enjoying a postcoital herbal tea or lemon water cocktail.
I headed out the door where Drago stood with a bottle of water. In truth, I was dying of thirst. I thanked him, unscrewed the cap and glugged half of it down as I headed for the sauna. Looking back down the hallway, I saw Drago watching me and I gave him a quick, parting wave.
Once through the door, I dropped my phone in my locker, then headed to the showers to rinse off the leftover oil. Then I returned to the relaxation pool, hanging my robe on a hook above my head. I groaned as I melted into its depths. All my muscles were protesting and I felt faintly headachy. An attendant asked if I would like more herbal tea and I eagerly accepted. I hoped to hell it was loaded with some escapist narcotic the FDA hadn’t figured out was harmful yet.
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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