“I was fascinated to find that, even as an involuntary act, it required effort and concentration to do it right. It was a couple of minutes, perhaps longer, before I realized that Bobbi was standing in the bathroom doorway watching me with a critical eye. I moved my head from over the toilet bowl to the sink and grabbed a couple of towels to clean myself up. “Sorry,” I mumbled. I was desperately trying to remember whether I had closed the door to the darkroom before stumbling into the bathroom. ...“Here,” she said. “Let me do that. I’ve had a lot of practice.” She soaked a towel in hot water and briskly rubbed my face with it with the professionalism of a mother cleaning up a three-year-old. “You didn’t eat anything since you got here,” she commented. “Been drinking? You faked me out.” “No,” I said. She turned me around. “Here’s a comb. What the hell happened?” “You do this a lot?” I asked, waving my hand vaguely at the sink. “Sure,” she said. “The johns at the clubs I work.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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