After devouring lunches big enough for dinners, and slaking their thirst with cold beers, they traveled incognito in Arnie’s car to Greg’s hotel, where they sank into the private spa off his room. Splendidly naked and unembarrassed, the four men relaxed in its wet heat as the faint smell of chlorine bubbled up around them.
Greg noticed that River was dipping his main golfing arm and shoulder into the jet stream nearest him. “Nothing like the massage of a jet on a body part that aches from being overworked, is there? In my case, it’s both my feet.”
River surprised him with a quick unobtrusive pass of one foot over his.
Greg turned his face away from the other men to whisper, “Down, boy. Down. We have company.”
After Jorge and Arnie had showered, dressed, and said their thanks and goodby
