Just four more days until The One You Can’t Keep hits bookshelves on all the online bookstores!
Today I’m sharing a favorite scene. But first, a little background.
In Germany, public saunas and steam rooms are a wonderful bonus in winter, but you’re not allowed to wear anything inside! You sit on a towel, of course, and can wrap up in another towel if you’re shy, but you’ll probably feel like an odd duck among the relaxed, casually naked people.
When I was stationed in Bitburg (as a high school teacher for the Department of Defense Dependents Schools), a female friend and I took advantage of the public pool’s wonderful sauna complex, complete with wood-fired outdoor saunas and outdoor spaces to cool off in the buff. There’s nothing like watching the steam rise off your rosy skin while snow falls all around–simply magical!
Usually, M and I would attend during Damensauna (women only) hours, but sometimes we’d brave the co-ed times. Kind of weird, seeing all those willies bouncing around, but I quickly got used to it.
Anyway, here’s our heroine Klara and her teacher friend Janice, enjoying Damensauna.
***
Nothing like an early morning swim followed by a steam. Our community pool complex offers five different dry sauna rooms, but the steam room is my absolute favorite, and Sunday morning is women only, so there’s no worry of men intruding on our relaxation. Good thing, too, because when I packed my swim gear, I found my big sauna towel at the bottom of the laundry hamper smelling extremely funky. All I have is a regular bath towel, inadequate coverage for my five-foot ten-inch frame. And swimsuits are verboten in the sauna and steam room—it’s birthday suits only.
Surrounded by a bunch of female strangers, who cares? It took a while to get used to the Germans’ casual attitude toward nudity, but now I enjoy the freedom. Janice and I even tried co-ed sauna night a few times. Kind of weird, seeing all those willies bouncing around, but no one seemed bothered.
Beside me, Janice gathers her long black hair into a knot and grunts with pleasure. “My muscles feel like melted butter.”
I sigh in agreement. “This is perfect.”
“Aren’t you glad you stayed for Christmas, kiddo?” Ten years my senior, though you’d never guess it from her appearance, Janice credits regular sauna visits for her smooth, glowing skin.
“Absolutely. If I were in Wisconsin, I’d probably be at the mall right now, fighting obnoxious crowds. This is so much better for my mental health.”
“And your physical health. Ready for the plunge pool?”
“Five more minutes,” I groan. Though I know the traditional icy dip is good for the skin and circulation, I hate that part of the sauna ritual. I’m not a polar bear, for God’s sake.
Procrastinating, I close my eyes and let my mind drift, floating on eucalyptus-scented steam and the soft murmur of conversation around us, until one word snaps me back to reality.
“Männer.” Men.
The door opens, and several shadowy figures enter. Crap on toast, we forgot to watch the clock, and now it’s co-ed time. I clutch my too-small towel.
“Relax, enjoy,” Janice urges. “Just a bunch of strangers. So listen, Rolf has the cutest friend. I was thinking we could ask him to join us at lunch Monday.”
“Still not looking for a boyfriend,” I whisper, glancing nervously at the men filing in. Thank goodness the air is too foggy to see anyone clearly. Forcing myself to unclench, I scoot closer to Janice, stretch my legs out, and let my lids drift shut.
Baritone voices murmur in German. I relax as this new layer of sound washes over me—until a familiar voice cuts through my blissed-out haze.
“Jeez, it’s too hot to breathe in here.”
My eyes fly open. Before me stands Logan, long, lean, tightly muscled, and gloriously naked, a towel draped over his shoulder.
A second guy gives him a little nudge. “Go on, Hendriks. No one’s gonna bite you.” Perfect. It’s Oscar Reyes, my neighbor.
With a squeak of alarm, I double over and try to cover up with the undersize towel I’m sitting on—an exercise in futility. Why’d I have to be a big Midwestern farm girl? My boobs are spilling out like canned biscuit dough. I pray he won’t notice me in all this steam.
Logan mutters, “Guten Tag” as he spreads his towel on the stone bench and sits beside me, then does a double take, makes a choking sound, and flings his towel over his lap.
I can’t help myself—I look. How could I not? And he sees me looking! And he looks back! This is awful. I want to crawl into a hole. Should I bolt for the door? Play it cool? As if that were possible in a freakin’ steam bath.
Oscar giggles. Logan smacks him.
“Ow, man!”
German patrons shush them.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I can be a grown-up about this. I nudge Logan’s shoulder and whisper, “Fancy meeting you here.”
He groans and slumps over. “Reyes promised me we wouldn’t run into anyone we know.”
“Funny, my friend said the same thing.”
“Must be kismet,” Oscar inserts, snickering.
This kind of coincidence just doesn’t happen to me—first, the gorgeous, fascinating, off-limits man I lust after turns out to be my neighbor. Now, he shows up naked. It’s like the universe is throwing him into my path.
Very mean, universe.
With annoying poise, Janice leans across me, her hand extended, and whispers, “Hi there. I’m Janice. Klara and I work together.”
“Jan, for God’s sake,” I hiss.
Eyes wide, clutching his towel in a not-very-successful effort to cover his crotch and ass, Logan mutters, “We were just leaving.”
“No, we were.” I get to my feet as gracefully as I can manage in the crowded space, hunched over to minimize my exposure.
Logan stands at the same moment, and I bonk into firm muscle slicked with sweat.
A titter arises from the other steamers. Someone comments, “Ist wie im Fernsehen.”
Not any TV show I’ve ever seen, buddy.
I back toward the door. “Enjoy your day.”
An older man on his way in gives a little yip as I back into him. Humiliation complete.
***
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