Play in the water

After work as she waited for her ride they sat talking in his car, sharing a love for literature at dusk in the shadow of Camelback Mountain, Arizona. She was a young tough beautiful woman from Alaska.

“I haven’t even had one,” she said.
“What’s the problem?”

“I don’t know, it’s just that I think too much, you know, about if I’m doing the right thing.”
“What do your partners say?”

“Oh, they always say it’s ok but still, I get pretty frustrated.”
“Maybe you need a lover who is more patient, kind and understanding. Someone gentle.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”
“You know,” she said, “I even get embarrassed at the thought of taking a shower with someone else.”

“Why’s that?” He was smiling, remembering lovers and hot showers - the heat, soap, vapor, bodies, laughter.

“I don’t know,” she replied sarcastically, “there’s nothing to do. It seems boring - I can’t stand to even have someone touch me.”

“Oh it’s great fun! Think of it as two kids playing in water.”

“Yeah. That’s a new way to see it.”

Daylight faded west past a praying monk rock formation. Her ride came.

“Enjoy your book,” he said as they laughed.

She got out and slammed the door.