The steam rolled, but began to dissipate with the opening of the door. Four male eyes looked up at us, then quickly down at their laps. Up, then down again. They seemed twitchy and nervous. Good.
“Well,” I said with some amusement, and returning confidence, “so this is the infamous steamer”. I took my towel and gestured at the three long benches (looking like mini bleachers) and asked, “So where’s the best seat in the house?”
Enrico jumped up. I noticed that both men were in boxer shorts, thank God. “Uh..” he managed.
His friend stood up and said, “I’m Bill. It depends on what you like. The top one is the hottest.” He had rather depraved, degenerate eyes and a big, toothy farm boy grin that was at odds with those eyes. He offered me an unnecessary hand up, which I accepted.
I turned to him and smiled sweetly, “Married, aren’t you?” The grin faltered slightly and his eyes hardened, but he didn’t deny my question.
I lay a towel on the top bench and stretched out to look around. Everyone seemed to be on-hold. Jaimie was still standing and fidgeting, looking like the nervous eighteen year-old that she was.
“Jaimie, what’s it going to be? Do you want to come up here by me?”
“Sure,” she said gratefully and scrambled up beside me, so I sat up. She looked down at herself and pulled up her knees, crossing her arms to cover her chest.
I leaned over and whispered, “Unnecessary.”
Enrico and Bill sprang into action. “What we need is more steam!” Enrico boomed. He made a production of filling the bucket with cold water from the spigot beneath the shower. Enrico had a habit of wiggling his eyebrows around and looking like Groucho Marx. Jaimie giggled at him so he did it again. I stared with intensity at Jaimie until she turned to look at me then I did my Groucho/ Enrico impersonation. It earned me a scowl and a kick.
“I think what we need,” Bill suggested, “are some cocktails. What’s your pleasure, ladies?”
Jaimie giggled again, I rolled my eyes, and Enrico let out a big whoop and threw the entire bucket of water on the hot rock bed. It sounded like ten dozen eggs frying and steam filled the room, again reminding me of a gas chamber.
“Thanks, Enrico!” Bill said sarcastically. “Man! Couldn’t you have waited a minute? I can’t see a damned thing. I’m going to have to take all the drinking supplies into the dressing room.”
“Don’t do that, man. You’ll let out all my steam!”
“Yeah, thanks! I can’t see a fucking thing!”
I was going to allow them to bicker for about another thirty seconds, but Jaimie, feeling bold in the blindness of the thick steam, made her move.
“Shit, dude! It’s hot up here!” and she moved down a notch to sit beside Enrico.
“Indeed,” I replied and stretched out full length again.
“I’ll take anything,” Jaimie held out her hand, ready for any kind of alcohol at 10:30 in the morning.
“Do you have any ice down there somewhere?” I asked.
“What, sugar? You getting hot?” Bill asked me with heavy innuendo.
I gritted my teeth at the “sugar” and decided to play dumb.
“Yeah. So how about it?”
“How about it?” Bill almost stuttered, forgetting the subject of this exchange.
“Ice,” I reminded him softly.
“Oh! Oh, yeah, ice. Hey, you can’t just have a glass of ice at my party! No way, not allowed.”
“Hey, baby,” Enrico piped in, “let’s flavor your ice with some peppermint schnapps.”
It was weird listening to all these disembodied voices. I acquiesced. Enrico and Bill seemed to think that peppermint schnapps was top-notch, classy alcohol, perfect for a lady’s breakfast. Having no idea what to say on the matter nor wishing to be completely boorish, I just shut up and accepted the glass. I listened to their small talk, occasionally contributing, but I was more focused on how wonderful the hot, steamy air felt on my poor, working-class body.
“You know what we really need?” Enrico asked gleefully. “Got to have good, stinky, stinky bud with our drinks!”
“Oh, good!” Jaimie said. Naturally.
Oh, no! I thought, but couldn’t think how to get out of it gracefully. My powers of speech deserted me even before I took that first inhalation. Good-bye, brain. I hadn’t done this in years. God, I hate myself sometimes, was my last coherent thought before I took that first toke.
Jaimie became giggly. Enrico became manically animated.
“More steam!” he bellowed and threw another bucket on.
“Hey! Take it easy, Enrico!” Bill sounded irritated. He’d moved up to sit at my feet. He picked them up and placed them in his lap. He rubbed my feet gently, which felt like heaven after the eternity I’d spent standing in rubber boots on a concrete floor. Then he started to slide his hand up and down my calf, caressing and massaging. My flesh mentally shrank as my aching muscles involuntarily responded. My powers of speech had completely deserted me, so I just shook my finger at him ( and still smiled—I didn’t want to completely piss him off, not with those cold, soulless eyes) and moved to sit up.
“Watch this,” Enrico laughed. He threw yet another bucket of cold water on the rocks. They hissed in response. Then he grabbed his towel and began fanning up and down. Unbelievably, the hot room became even hotter as the steam was more evenly dispersed.
“Ooh,” Jaimie squealed.
“You son of a bitch!” Bill was not happy and he moved to the bottom bench. Even in the dense fog I could see the rage in his eyes directed at his good buddy.
Thank you, Enrico, I said in my head. Thank you, obnoxious buddy. I stretched out and rested, trying to unscramble my brain.
Time seemed to slow down. But as it turns out, we had been in the steamer for more than an hour when the old man knocked on the door.
“Time to wind it up, Enrico!”
Bill hopped up and went to the dressing room. He came back a minute later. “We’ve got another hour.”
“Oh, how did you manage that?” Jaimie asked.
“I paid the man, honey,” he replied. Jaimie looked impressed.
I cleared my throat and took another sip of schnapps. Hey, all gone. “Hey,” I said, “do you have any more of that schnapps?” Good-bye, good judgment.
“Sure, sure.” Enrico and Bill both scrambled to the bottle. Enrico poured. Bill shot him a cold look but added the ice cubes to my drink and came up to the top bench again. I sat up.
Huh! I drank that drink in nothing flat and held my glass out for more. I knew I was asking for trouble, but my drinking arm seemed possessed with a life of its own.
“So, Petra,” Bill said softly beside me. “What brings you to Pelican?” And he gave me a toothy, trying-to-be seductive grin.
Oh, no. I giggled, then giggled more. Those teeth coupled with the question that I’d already been asked and had avoided answering at least 82 times was too much for me. No words; I shook my head and smiled at him, then giggled helplessly.
It was the most friendly I’d been all morning. He smiled hesitantly back, unsure if I was just giddy or if I was laughing at him.
“More steam!” Enrico bellowed. He threw the water and began flapping his towel.
“You—you worthless bastard!” Bill growled. “We are going to talk—real soon.” The words alone weren’t much, but the threat was definitely there. Bill scrambled down to the bottom bench, ears beet red.
Enough was enough. Grateful for Enrico’s unwitting assistance, I didn’t want to push my luck much further.
Under cover of the thick steam, I gathered my shower stuff and crawled down to floor level. When I turned on the shower, Enrico groaned, “Not yet, don’t get ready to leave yet.”
“Just getting clean,” I said.
It was a slightly unnerving shower experience.
My audience of three watched my every move; Enrico’s eyes were hungry, Bill’s hungry and sullen, Jaimie’s wistful. Alcohol and marijuana played havoc with my senses and I was feeling very physical, but aware of those watchful eyes.
When finished I said, “Hey, guys, I’m feeling kind of like a prune. I think I’m going to go ahead and get dressed.”
“Ok, but wait for us on the bench outside. Ok?”
“Sure,” I said.
“I mean it,” Enrico used his serious voice, “please don’t leave.”
“All right,” I tried to reassure him, “I’ll wait on the bench outside.”
“Wait for me,” Jaimie sprang up.
“Don’t you want to shower?” I asked her.
“I’m clean enough,” she responded.
“I’ll wait in here for you, if you want,” I said to her under my breath.
“That’s ok,” she said. “Let’s get dressed.” And she breezed through the door.
I pulled off my teddy and rang it out on the floor, then used a towel to wipe up the mess.
“So what do you think, Petra? Do you think I have a chance with him?”
I whipped around to face her, finger at my lips. “Ssshhh,” I said and pointed to the door. Very, very softly I whispered, “Don’t let him hear you, but yes, yes, you probably do. Wait until we’re at the bunkhouse.”
Jaimie nodded at me with big eyes that got even bigger as we could hear the two guys arguing.
“Just what the hell were you thinking, Enrico?” Bill’s enraged whisper drifted through the door. Tell me, ‘cause I want to know just what you were thinking.”
“What’s the matter with you, man? What are you talking about?”
“Every time I got near her, you just had to throw on more goddamned water and then flapping your towel…”
Jaimie and I quit dressing and stood listening.
“What? Man, you’re married!”
“Ssshhh, you little shit, shut up! They’ll hear you.” Then there was silence.
Jaimie and I were looking at each other open-mouthed. “Let’s hurry,” I whispered, “and act like you didn’t hear a thing.”
Then loudly, for the benefit of our audience, I said, “Jaimie, do you see my comb? Yuk. I hate not having any underclothes. Good thing I brought a sweatshirt or you’d have been out of luck.”
She smiled at me and we skedaddled outside to sit on the bench. We sat and watched the heavy, late spring rain as we put on our shoes and waited.
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