Lucinda said she was going to take a shower.
I said, “Do you mind if I watch?” She looked at me
as if i were crazy, or some kind of pervert. “We’ve
lived together for ten years and I’ve never seen you
take a shower,” I added. She scratched her head and
looked at her feet. “A shower is kind of a private
thing, don’t you think?” she said. “So is making love,
but we do it,” I said. She thought that over for a
minute. “Well, you’ll be disappointed, a shower is
just a shower,” she said. She made me wait outside
while she undressed. After the curtain was pulled
and the water was running, I was permitted to enter.
There were hundreds of native boys chanting in a
tongue I couldn’t comprehend, dancing in a circle
around her. She soaped her breasts and ignored them.
They worshipped her. She continued soaping her breasts.
They whooped and cried for joy. More soap for the
breasts. I was afraid for my life. Then the soap