Sunday, August 17, 1969
By the time we found the water, some chick name Joplin was wailing away at the microphone. But my mind was suddenly focused on the fact that we were alone here. Most folks were too busy doing other things—or afraid of creepy crawlies, like me—to hang out here too long. Which definitely worked in our favor.
Sully and I stashed our stuff in the bushes again and stripped naked. He left his flashlight on the ground and I followed him into the lake. It was cool, and felt damn good on my overheated skin.
“Want me to wash your back?” he asked in a low voice. There was very little ambient light, but I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Only if you let me wash yours,” I replied, just as softly.
“Deal.”
I reached out to touch Sully, and he grabbed my hand to pull me in
