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Turning, my face covered, my clothes soaked, I grin, obviously chagrined, dripping. You scramble to find towels, apologizing effusively, rambling on about how you weren't paying attention.... and I try to make it easier by quipping, “I promise, I did shower this morning…” You try to hand me a third towel, not sure if you should dab at me, as you decide to throw the 3rd on to the floor for me to step out onto. I step back out of the shower, laughing, saying that I always have a spare set of socks for such events, that it is easier than drying out shoes, but that this only happens once in a great while, and I laugh, telling you that I knew I should have left the faucet handle on, and you note I quickly put it back on. Still mortified, despite my attempts to mollify you, telling you that it is a hot, dry day outside, you feel awful. The only thing you can think of to do to ameliorate the situation is to equalize things, and impulsively, you step past me, into the shower, and turn it on,. They, too, enjoyed the fine dinners and floor-shows. A few of these even stayed to dance for a while. But if one were to look about him in the later hours of the evening, they would see that a few guests were escorted personally by the owner, or his hulking bodyguard, Monroe, through a thick black curtained door and no one ever came out from behind the curtain before two o'clock, the regular closing hour.An especially observant person might have thought that Peter was running a gaming club through the large, locked door behind it. But it would take a long stretch of the imagination to figure out exactly what kind of gaming was taking place. But there was enough partying going on in the main clubroom to deter anyone from furthering his curiosity by trying to enter through the door. The psychedelic lights and topless dancers kept most of the guests quite happy.Darleen was among the selected clique who were allowed entrance to the door. She also had her own key to the club. She and her.
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