Mrs. Martin was as quiet and shy as Gail. Her father was a different story. Bob Martin was a plumber, as the sign on the side of the van in the drivew...y advertised. He was about 5’9” but his demeanor made him appear taller. He had muscular arms and a firm handshake. He wore a wife beater tee-shirt that showed his tattoo of paratrooper wings on his bicep. Jake asked him which division. Bob replied he had jumped into Normandy with the 82nd.Over the women’s protests, Bob dragged Jake to the garage. Then I saw the hot tub with Harry, Joe, and a new face. I was introduced to Gary, who was smiling ear to ear. I hopped in the tub and was greeted with hugs, kisses, and of course, a pat on the ass. I submerged my body in the water; it made my body feel great. “Welcome to the nude hot tub patriots game,” Joe said. I said, “Yeh.” Joe said, “You be a good girl and do as you are told.” I promised I would. So it began. Joe lifted my ass up out of the water and said, “Gary, look at this perfect. I pulled my skirt hem down as if in a bid to cover my legs and moved on. In the next two aisles he was notable by his absence, perhaps he'd gone...but no by the milk section I saw him, his eyes steadfastly fixed on me as I approached. I averted my gaze, my mouth was feeling dry. Was I being stupid, I was a 53yo woman , I'd seen men of every conceivable age, been intimate with them, why was this one man bothering me so much?Hurrying on I finished my shop, the mystery man stood and watched as I. ”“And your locker numbers?”We had to pull them out of our new binders. In my backpack I had a brand-new padlock.“213 is right next to 214. Go inside and up the stairs and to the right. They’re about halfway down the hall.” He pointed us inside. “Your lockers are in the hallway outside them.”“Thank you,” we both said, but by then he had turned away to help somebody else.Bo and I went inside and up the stairs. The halls and stairs were packed with people, some of whom, the shorter ones, anyway,.
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