folded green towels on a stool in a sauna
Photo by Denny Müller on Unsplash

Sauna night at Olivin

I’m not certain, but I think the last time that I was at the sauna may have been with my blind date.  He was very tall, lean, dark haired and handsome.  A basketball coach. He was beautiful naked but strangely shy.  I liked him for that and had to resist staring.

But that was then.  Tonight, Eleni and I are in the showers when she says, hey, this is where we first met.

Of course.  I had forgotten.  We two lovers then of the same man, meeting for the first time.  And here we are two years later, or nearly so as Eleni points out.  Speaking of the lover is, by my decision, verboten.  Eleni is bursting at the seams though, wanting to whisper to me of their last encounter as we sweat it out in the sauna room.  I stop her, and we whisper instead of people sharing the evening with us here. 

One man, standing outside in the rear garden under the cold shower had turned our way, innocently enough, cooling off from the scented heat of the last Aufguss.  Eleni and I look at each other, our mouths fallen open.  Oh my, say her eyes.  Oh my, say mine.  And we share a low giggle.

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