"We can probably find places -- buildings -- where we could shower more often... Cold water, no doubt, but, still..." Yes. That would be good," she agreed. "Or outdoors, at swimming pools. Lots of running water still seems available." But, once a week," I promised her, "on Saturday night," we'll fire up the generator, and take a hot shower, right here in the RV." Saturday night," she said. "Just like the olden days, back on the farm." Were you raised on a farm?" No," she laughed. "Not really. But I heard stories -- from my parents."That night, lying in bed in the back bedroom -- the big one that I still kept for my own use -- there was a knock on the door. "Are you awake?" Bridgett asked."Yeah. Come in."She opened the door. She had on the terrycloth robe, and was the picture of modesty. She looked good. Maybe she was older than my mother, but she looked awfully good."I was wondering," she said."Yeah?" About us: About us living together, like this... The last people on earth, maybe.". Icould still taste him. Like a toddler I waddled up the stairs, my soakeddiaper sagging between my legs.I wanted to forget what I had done and planned on packing and movingout. Unfortunately, Glenn had other plans. After showering and puttingon jeans and a shirt, I went downstairs to tell him I was leaving. "What the hell are you wearing?" he shouted at me. He wore sweatpantsand a tank top, showing all his muscles. Those and his voice scared thehell out of me. "No one told you to put on men's clothes. You're not aman. A man doesn't wear diapers and suck a dick as good as you did lastnight." All my plans on telling him that last night was a mistake, that it wouldbe best if I left, flew out the window. Like a sissy, I cowered. "Youwant me to be wearing diapers still," I said, my voice sounding so tinyand weak compared to his. His eyes flared and he grabbed my arm, dragging me up the stairs andinto my room. "Take off your clothes and throw them in the trash." I didn't hesitate knowing.
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