Turning quickly, almost forgetting the olives. With everything at the bar set and between orders, I check the thermostat for the tub. Taking a casual...stroll out, across the room, bringing a tubber or two something to ease away the days’ stress. I find myself at the closet. Pulling clean towels and robes out… leaving them out on the bench. Returning to my station, taking a moment to rest, maybe enjoy a cold O. J… watching the crowd… waiting. Then the door opens, and the room cries out for my. He sat on the only wooden bench, and his newspaper would bounce on his lap, as we went round and round, fearful of being pulled off by the centripetal forces, so we sat down and forced our backs against the central spoke, our bums on the wooden planks, our legs apart and our skirts riding high on our thighs, the faster we spun, the more exposed we became, and the more violent his paper bounced.We knew, even at that age what he was doing, and we giggled and accommodated, by proudly displaying. More

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