Constant. Sartorial. Wonderment.

Everybody. Into the hot tub now.


She explained the rules, and they said that they respected rules. Then one of them laughed.  She could not be sure which.

Rocco was the one with the scar on his cheek. Vladimir wore rings on every finger. Stiva’s chest hair looked like disheveled macrame.  Felix had a portrait of Brezhnev tattooed on his back.  The one they called Wimpy had been an assassin in his youth.  The one they called The Generalissimo never spoke.

But, underwater, they were all the same.  They were all just hairy thighs.

Lycra one-piece with interlacing soutache. My, what a tangled web we weave.


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