Once back atthe apartment, the clothes were hung up in the closet or put away inthe dresser.That night we went out to a neighborhood restaurant and ba... and had agreat meal and I got to know more about Fabiola and her Haitianculture. My background story was that I was born in the States andhad never been to Haiti so I would have an explanation for not knowingthe language or details of Haiti but I still needed to know something.In the days that followed I learned a lot more than I ever thought. The towel around my waist propped up by my hard-on, I busied myself turning on the Jacuzzi jets and lighting candles as Donna followed me, just a little reluctantly as she peered into Sylvie’s room to reassure herself that she was in fact not there.As she approached, I loosened my towel and tossed it on a chair. I felt the chill evening air cup my balls and my hard-on faded. I watched through the steam from the tub as Donna let her bathrobe fall from her shoulders. The candlelight played. More

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