Paul woke to the sound of a car’s horn. Had he slept for an hour, or two? Of course, he had no way of knowing for how long, or what the time was now. He got up and unzipped the tent flap.

Outside was Howard at the wheel of an old, orange-colored, Jeep. Of course, the Jeep was naked, that is to say the top was off (topless), and the doors had been removed (bottomless), so it was truly naked.

“Get in, we’re going to dinner.” Howard was wearing an old style Hawaiian shirt, short pants with cargo pockets and a pair of slip-on deck shoes.

Paul looked down on his nude body, “Um, I’m not exactly dressed for an outing.”

Howard laughed out loud. “We’ll stop by your car on the way out; get yourself something to throw on.”

Paul slipped on his shoes, and thought a moment as he got into the Jeep. “I don’t have much in the way of cash, either,” he told Howard.

“That’s okay,” Howard said. “I have enough for both of us. Besides, dress for being physically active, because you just may earn yourself some cash.”

Howard drove to the outer lot, pulling into the space next to Paul’s car. Paul put on a non-descript tee-shirt, a pair of light blue running shorts, still wearing his Docksiders. “Is this alright for where we’re going?” he asked.

Howard replied, “Yeah!! You ever been to O’Morley’s? It’s a sports bar in the casino near that big mall off Route One-Fifteen.”

Paul shook his head no, got back into the Jeep, and made sure his wallet was stuffed down into a front pocket.

“Now, how am I going to earn myself some cash there?” Paul asked, as Howard drove out toward the main gate. Howard waved an electronic pass card at the gate opener to get out to the main road.

“Monday night is amateur night. Patrick O’Morley has all kinds of gym equipment set up in an area near the main bar and gambling areas.” He patted his chest pocket. “I have a few hundred dollars set aside to bet on us. I figure we can get on a rowing machine, and take on a few of the rubes. They’ll think I’m just an old man without much in me, and they won’t know that you’ve been to state, regionals, and nationals, either.”

When they got to O’Morley’s, Howard was sure to get a table near the “play” area. They ordered and ate dinner, and enjoyed watching an afternoon baseball game from the west coast. After a while, several of the monitors that were tuned to sports channels began converting over to the gym equipment. One large monitor was hooked up to four treadmill/running machines. It showed views one would expect to see while running the Boston Marathon. Up to four runners could try their luck against the computer avatar runner, and each other. The same set-up was used on several bicycle machines, only they went uphill at Pike’s Peak. And of course, there was the betting to be done on the participants, or the ‘house’.

The rowing shells were old-style machines with a modern-day twist. Instead of using standard rowing machines, where the rower pulls a handle hooked to a chain that feeds into an adjustable flywheel, the rowers had oar handles (no blades) connected to outrigger oarlocks. The oarlocks, in turn, were plugged into a biomechanical feedback device, giving the rower the ‘feel’ of actually rowing in water. A computer connection transmitted the rower’s efforts through to another big screen, only this one gave viewers a bird’s-eye view of the race.

Howard signed them up as a team, predictably Team M&M. They kept it easy for the first few 1000 meter round robin events, only winning each by a boat length or two. Together they worked well as a team, keeping their strokes in synch, never getting their oars, or their bodies, fouled with each other. They changed positions after each round, to see who was better in the bow or stern. It didn’t matter, they worked well together; they had ‘swing’.

Between events, Howard noticed a slightly different competition going on. He anticipated a team switch on him and Paul at the last minute. He also noticed that several other event winners’ drinks seemed to have a bit more added, before they were spirited off by a well-endowed, scantily-clad, very friendly, waitress. He told this to Paul, but also confided that he was beginning to get tired.

“Paul, I think there might be some shenanigans going on around here. Have you seen any of the winners from some of the other sporting events? I’m not sure, they may be getting rolled while taking a tumble with a waitress. Also, I’m getting a bit tired. Not sure if I’m biting off more than I can chew.”

Paul showed concern, but took it in stride. “Well, I think I’ve discovered a computer glitch, too, but one that we can work in our favor. It’s probably because they don’t run many races more than the standard two thousand meters. When that last team passed the two thousand meter mark, and kept going, did you see how the screen widened out to accommodate the extra length? It only shows the race from the start to the two-K point, not beyond, until you get passed another point. As for being tired, I can see that. We’ve got two more races to get to the final round. And if they do change up with a different team, just go for broke for as long as you can. Remember, I’m better at the longer distances, so all of this has been a warm up for me. If nobody notices when I type in the distance, I’ll try to catch up and pass them. If they can’t get their stroke back, it’s over. If you do get tired and want to stop, do this!” He borrowed a pen from a waitress, and wrote down some numbers and commands on a napkin. He handed the pen back to another waitress, and handed the napkin to Howard. “It works for me!”

Howard looked at the napkin. “Just like in Ben Hur?” he said, referring to the classic 1959 movie, often shown on television during Easter weekend.

Paul nodded. “Yeah, just like in Ben Hur. That should take everybody by surprise…if it works! By the way, how much did you plan on betting on us?”

Howard smiled. “I got five hundred for this one. The way we’ve been going, the powers that be have got to be thinking I’m getting tired, which I am. So they’re likely to jack it up, maybe as much as five or six-to-one odds, for us.”

They won the next two events, but it took a toll on Howard. He gave it his all, and it showed. He and Paul were allowed 15 minutes to rest before the final ‘winners’ round. Several waitresses stopped by their table every few minutes, encouraging them to order drinks, and trying to distract them from watching the teams that were currently competing toward the final round.

Sure enough, as they were setting up for the winner’s round, the team they expected to row against were suddenly bumped by a team of two much younger and stronger men. Howard wasn’t sure if they were old enough to be of legal drinking age. One thing in their favor was that as the ‘challenged team’, they could set the parameters for the final round. Seeing the new challengers, almost nobody expected Howard and Paul to win, regardless of the setting they made. While Howard conducted business with the cashier, betting his $500 dollars, and getting his voucher, the odds-makers gave Team M&M 10-to-1 to win over their new challengers; and Paul quickly typed “6K – Enter” in to the computer, and sat in the aft seat of the shell.

As Howard was settling in behind Paul, he pulled the crumpled napkin out of his pocket. “You sure this is going to work?” he asked.

Paul snorted. “No! Not at all. A lot of it will depend on them,” he said, pointing to the other team just 10 feet away. “It looks like we have another on our side, though,” this time pointing just beyond to the cashier’s window, where a short Hispanic man in a white button-down shirt, and a thin black tie, was pushing a large wad of cash across the counter, receiving a colored voucher representing Team M&M in return.

The Hispanic man, named Luis, had been with the Casino for four years now, starting out in the cleaning and maintenance staff. He was recruited to join Casino Security three years ago, but maintained his C&M job as cover. Management had long suspected Patrick O’Morley, owner and operator of O’Morley’s Sports Bar, of stacking the odds; racketeering; graft; pimping and prostitution of his waitresses; theft, by having big winners thinking they were getting lucky with a waitress, ‘rolled’ out of their winnings by a pretty smile, a fast hand, and a spiked drink; and serving over-priced food, and watered-down drinks. Luis nodded to his back-up, Donnie, who sat near the entrance. He, in turn, nodded to the Casino’s Security Chief, another Irishman, Patrick O’Hearn, who stood amongst the one-arm bandits on the casino’s main promenade outside the sports bar. It was safe to say that neither Patrick liked the other, in any way, shape, or form. Tonight was just an opportunity to catch O’Morley at something, the best chance in weeks.

The other team started the race as any sprinter team would, fast and strong. They maintained that for nearly the entire race, confident of their victory, their pay-off, and their pick of the available waitress staff for the evening. Paul and Howard started the race strongly, too, but it was evident that Howard’s strength was coming up short here at the end of the evening.

By 500 meters, Howard lost his grip on the left oar, but he was able to get it back, and get back into his rhythm with Paul. By the 1200 meter mark, his strokes weren’t as solid or consistent as at the beginning.

At 1600 meters, Howard just couldn’t do it anymore. He said as much to Paul, who simply said, “Okay. Up Oars!” Howard pulled the handles in, so that the computer wouldn’t register the blades as ‘dragging in the water’.

The crowd started cheering and jeering louder as Howard indicated that he was finished. But Paul kept at his stroke, consistent, showing good form. Nobody was going to fault him for a good performance. A few people were going to win, but the most they would make was double their money; the ‘House’ was confident of its take. The other team was clearly going to get to 2000 meters first, by 25 boat lengths, or over 125 meters.

When they got to 2000 meters, the other team raised their hands in victory, allowing their ‘oars’ to drag in the ‘water’. The computer accepted the new signals, and showed their boat slowing down, as Paul predicted. But he kept at it, and everyone thought that he just wanted to show a good finish. However, once the other boat’s ‘momentum’ carried it past the 2025 meter point, the monitor re-adjusted to show the full extent of the course, now showing 6000 meters. The crowd, some of whom were already on their way to the cashier’s window, stopped in their tracks, with a collective “What??”

The other team, noticing that the race wasn’t over yet, quickly grabbed at their oars, and tried getting their rhythm back. Paul maintained his steady and consistent form, his legs pushing him out, his arms pulling the oars.

At 2250 meters, Howard, looking at the napkin, yelled “Battle Speed!” Paul closed his eyes, and tried his best to blot out the noise of the crowd. He concentrated on what his Coach had told him. It was he who showed him the galley scene from Ben Hur. The ‘Hortator’, a Latin term meaning Chief of the Rowers, kept the beat on a drum, giving the galley slaves a rhythm to work with. Paul thought of that scene, imagined his own ‘inner Hortator’, and rowed faster.

At 3400 meters Howard yelled “Attack Speed!” They were gaining on the other shell, their bow about six boat lengths from their opponent’s stern. Paul yelled back to Howard to rip off his shirt. Howard waited for Paul to pull back, grabbed his collar, and ripped along the sleeve seams as Paul returned in the stroke. Whatever part of his shirt was left on Paul’s chest dropped down between his legs. The crowd, a good number of whom didn’t actually bet on anything, where starting to go nuts with the turn of events. ‘Can this guy actually be rowing faster?’ they thought.

O’Morley didn’t like the looks of what was happening. This wasn’t the way it should be happening. His ‘ringers’ were supposed to be better than that. He quickly tallied what was bet, the odds, and realized that he might lose so much that he wouldn’t be able to pay off everyone, let alone make payroll, payments on inventory, overhead, and, more importantly, his crime bosses.

He looked around; he had to do something. Finally he spotted what he was looking for…the power cord. If he could pull it, the power would cut out, the monitor would go dark, and more importantly, the computer would crash. Since he was behind the bar, nobody was looking in his direction. He eased over to the end of the bar, and began to stoop down. His fingers had just wrapped around the cord when a large foot stepped down onto his hand.

“You wouldn’t be thinking of pulling the plug on the biggest come-back race your fine establishment has ever seen, would you, O’Moron?”

O’Morley’s blood ran cold. ‘O’Hearn!’ He looked up into the eyes of his instigator, Chief of Casino Security Patrick O’Hearn. Tears were beginning to stream down his face due to the pain of O’Hearn’s size 13 shoe on his hand.

Worst of all, a patroness at the bar heard them. “Pull the plug? Pull the plug? Did he just say that Mister O’Morley was going to pull the plug?” Her gentleman friend turned around, and they both looked down to see. It was obvious to them, and the young couple next to them, that O’Morley’s hand was clearly on the power cord. The crowd closer to the action roared again.

The other team had gotten their act together, sort of, but they were sprinters, not long distance operators. They had clearly run their race in the first 2000 meters. They took most of the second 2000 meters to get back into their ‘swing’, but they were showing fatigue, not quite as fast as they were earlier, and prone to errors. They seemed to get something back, catching a second wind, when the crowd jeered and cheered again.

One of O’Morley’s odds-makers, not realizing his boss’ predicament, opened up a new gamble: by how many boat lengths would the winner win? O’Hearn, seeing the new board, watching the monitor, but knowing far more than he would let on, used hand signals to tell Luis to bet another $5000 on Team M&M, at 4+ boat lengths. This should break O’Morley financially, even if they couldn’t find anything on him, or get someone to talk. For O’Hearn, so many things were finally coming together tonight. ‘It’s time to send for the cavalry.’ He made a hand gesture to Donnie at the door.

Now at 4800 meters Howard wasn’t sure he could hear himself, let alone make Paul hear him. The roar of the crowd was deafening, and they were going crazy. Paul had pulled even back at 4500 meters, was half a length ahead by 4650, but the other team was fighting back. He waited for Paul to pull back toward him, holding the napkin in his hand, shaking from the excitement, and with all the force he could muster, yelled “Ramming”, he waited for Paul to return in his stroke, and pull back again, “Speed!”

Howard could not believe it. Paul nearly lifted himself out of his seat; the human body rowing in front of him became a blur on the sliding seat. He leaned back, far enough away from Paul, so as not to be in his way. He made sure his oar handles were ‘up’, no unneeded drag. He marveled at the light sheen of perspiration he saw on Paul’s shoulders and back, not dripping like the other team. He stole a glance over at them. They were doing their best, they were continuing to drag and flag, but they were also two. Both were equal in size to Paul, but Paul had something, a quality about him, that Howard was only beginning to realize. Paul had heart. ‘And it must be beating double in every chamber and valve, too!!’ he thought.

O’Hearn bodily lifted O’Morley up off the floor, making sure the plug would absolutely not be pulled out of the socket. The word had spread amongst the patrons at the bar, and they were glaring dagger eyes at O’Morley. The word, however, could not penetrate to the patrons who were lining the ‘play area, cheering and jeering for the teams.

O’Hearn had seen this before, plenty of times, at the lake course for boating sports near State University. He didn’t even look at the screen as Donnie led ten uniformed security men into the bar. He held onto O’Morley, pointed to the patrons at the bar, and a number of ‘older’ patrons seated around the dining area. The officers made sure they knew to stay out of the way. O’Hearn was more concerned about the working staff, and the ‘players’ in the crowd near the play area. Some were in cahoots with O’Morley, while some were just innocents, caught up in the excitement of the races.

Looking over at the blur that was Paul, the near perfect form, the length and strength of Paul’s strokes, it wore down the spirit of the other team. They realized that they might not win, and they realized that they were the target of the jeers, not the cheers. Still, they continued to row, hoping that they might, somehow, snatch victory from impending defeat. They saw Howard, looking at them, remembering that he stopped rowing over 3000 meters ago, and that they had been losing to a one-man crew.

The end came soon after that. The computer, programmed to announce the winner, changed what was projected on the monitor to fireworks, final time (24 minutes), boat lengths (4.6), and the winning side, Team M&M. Paul finished his pull just as they crossed the finish line, and began to lie back. Howard let him lay back against his chest, holding him tenderly, allowing Paul’s chest to expand as he gulped air. A waitress appeared, tossing a shot-glass full of sweet liquid at Paul’s face, some of it landing in his open mouth. He swallowed it involuntarily, even as Howard was helping him to his feet, walking to their table. He sat Paul down, seeing more drinks already waiting for them. Howard took a coaster, placed it tightly on top of a shot glass, turned it over on the table, and slid the coaster out from under it. Anyone picking up the glass would release the liquid all over the table. ‘Leave that as a parting tip.’ He headed to the cashier. ‘Get the money, now, and get out.’

Luis was already at the cashier’s window. Part of the sting involved seeing if O’Morley’s staff would cheat a winner. He handed over his vouchers, and watched the cashier count out his ‘take’ in assorted 50 and 100 dollar bills. The cashier knew Luis was with Casino Security, ‘how would a sweeping Spic have that kind of cash, anyhow?’ he thought. He made sure to pay the right amount of money, both the winning pick, and the boat lengths guess.

O’Hearn passed O’Morley to another officer; taking the money from Luis. He needed to control the situation before it got completely out of hand, too many people milling about. He saw the old man plant his young charge in a chair, and head toward the cashier’s window. He made his way to the center of the room, when O’Morley screamed out “Raid” to his staff, stomping on the officer’s foot, and planting a fist squarely in his face, knocking him across the room in O’Hearn’s direction.

Howard made his way to the cashier. He hated leaving Paul on his own, especially in his current exhausted condition. He handed in his voucher, and watched the cashier counting assorted bills. He heard O’Morley’s scream, and let it distract him for a second. That’s all that the cashier needed, slamming his metal screen down, and missing Howard’s hand by millimeters. Howard grabbed the pile of bills, and started to run back toward Paul, as the room erupted in a brawl between Security, O’Morley’s staff, bouncers, and innocent patrons and bystanders.

O’Hearn stopped Howard midway across the room. “Where are you parked? Never mind, give me your keys! LUIS!! LUIS!!”

Luis appeared from out of the crowd none the worse for wear.

O’Hearn was looking to see where O’Morley was getting off to, when he saw Luis. “Take our Olympic Rowing team home. Drive the Charger. Make sure you aren’t followed. Get Donnie to drive their car. What are you driving?” taking the keys from Howard, handing them to Luis.

Howard was holding his money, but maintaining his view on Paul. “Hmmm? Oh, uh, old orange jeep, no top, no doors, top level of the parking garage.” But Howard wasn’t going for a ride anywhere until a question was answered. “Why should we trust you?” he asked.

O’Hearn decided to let Howard in on his secret. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt one of State U’s finest. My little brother was his coach, and he would pummel me until my ears bled if he knew I did something to hurt ‘Long Lance’. When he comes to tomorrow, ask him who ran security for the matches at the lake?” He turned to Luis. “Now!! Get them outta here!!

Luis grabbed Howard’s arm, heading back to retrieve Paul.

O’Hearn finally saw O’Morley, running for a back door. From behind the bar, the lady who was there earlier swung her purse, catching O’Morley square in the face, knocking him to the floor. ‘Screw the application,’ he thought, ‘just offer that lady a job.’

His eyes darted around, seeing the other crew who lost running toward the front door. They were on a beeline going right past him. He stuck his arms out, cash held tightly in both fists and clothes-lined them both to the floor.

Both men were stunned, one less so. O’Hearn glared down and yelled, “Did O’Morley put you up to this? Promises of cash, drinks, perhaps women for the night?” When the man nodded, still trying to catch his breath, O’Hearn continued. “Where are you from? A local school?”

The man swallowed hard. “Regal University!! We’re both from Regal.”

O’Hearn laughed. “Regalians,” using the term like an epithet. “Don’t you boys know that you’ll never beat a State U. man, even outnumbering him two to one? If you know what’s good for you, boy, you’ll spill the beans on everything O’Morley set you up with.”

A uniformed officer appeared. O’Hearn pointed down at both men. “Cuff’em. Cuff’em both, and keep them separated from the other employees.” The man bent down, and slid zip-ties around their wrists.

Luis handed Donnie Howard’s keys, yelled in his ear, then bent down and lifted Paul from one side. Howard did the same on the other. Paul’s eyes were glassy, and he was very lethargic, almost out cold.

“What’s happening to him?” Howard asked, concerned.

Luis shouted in a heavy accent. “Viagra shooter, Señor! He’ll be okay. They crush Viagra into a drink, with the Mickey Finn. Takes effect quicker. In the time a waitress can get a winner to the casino hotel, they’re almost out. They wake up hours later, in a stairwell landing, no clothes, no money, no ID, and no idea how they got there. They’re too embarrassed to admit they were going to a room with a young waitress, so we can only mark it down as a robbery. They feel lucky to be alive, but…,” he shook his head.

O’Hearn watched as the three men worked their way out of the club. A waitress ran at him, trying to bite his hand. He pushed her away, careful not to hit a lady, even one being unladylike. She bumped against the table that Howard and Paul were just at, sitting down hard on the floor. Her head bent back from the pain, her mouth involuntarily opening as she did. The contents of the shot glass that Howard had upended spilled across the table, and splashed down onto her face. She wiped her face with her hand, determined to get away. She took about ten steps, stumbled once, set her hand down on another table, and then crumpled to the floor. ‘I didn’t give that old man nearly enough credit,’ he thought. ‘Wow, what a night!’

Luis, Howard and Paul exited out of the casino, making their way over to the casino’s motor pool. The Charger was parked in a front row, and by the time they got Paul into the backseat, and settled themselves, Donnie was already waiting by the main road in Howard’s Jeep.

After Howard gave directions to Luis to get back to Magnolia and Moss, he counted his money. His quick count confirmed that he was cheated.

“I bet five hundred dollars at ten-to-one odds. That should get me five thousand, right?”

Luis, keeping his eyes on the road, said “Sí, Señor! Did you not get all of your money?”

Howard counted again. “I still keep coming up with forty-five hundred. Now was I supposed to get my five hundred back, and forty-five hundred, or my five hundred, and another five thousand?” He shook his head.

Luis and Donnie played tag team, passing each other, both turning this way and that, sometimes paralleling each other a block or two apart, to make sure they weren’t being followed by anyone on O’Morley’s payroll. When they were satisfied that nobody was following, Luis followed Howard’s directions back to M&M. Donnie pulled in behind Luis, keeping a wary eye out for anyone that might have been able to follow their confusing pattern.

At the main gate, Howard handed Luis his electronic pass card. Luis waved it in front of the callbox, and the gate opened up. Luis read the sign on the fence as they went in.

“Is a Naturist what I think it is? We won’t have to get undressed, will we?” he asked, his voice clearly indicating that he wasn’t ready for this.

Howard laughed. “No, you won’t have to get undressed. At this time of night, it’s not likely you’ll see anyone, either. Here, turn here, and go through that gate. Then down this road. Do a u-turn at the intersection, and stop at that second tent.”

Donnie followed in the Jeep, pulled in behind the Charger, and handed Howard his keys. He sounded anxious, too. “Don’t think I’ve ever been to a naturist camp before,” he said, looking around, as if looking for nude people.

Howard pulled Paul out of the back seat. “Use the electronic pass card to get back out. Just leave it on top of the box when the gate opens. I’ll get it tomorrow morning. Thanks, guys.” He watched as they went out through the parking lots, and listened for the gate to open and close.

“Been here long?” he asked, in no direction in particular.

Doris could have been an Army instructor, teaching the fine art of camouflage. She reached out and touched Howard’s leg, having been within arm’s reach of all of the men, except for Luis, who didn’t get out of his car.

“Help me get him inside, and ready for bed,” Howard said.

She unzipped the tent flap, and helped him in with Paul. She lit the propane lantern, and as Howard held Paul from behind, his arms under Paul’s and holding him around his bare chest, Doris pulled down Paul’s shorts.

“He’d be truly embarrassed if he knew about his Viagra-induced erection”, Howard quietly said, looking over Paul’s shoulder, thinking it’s a good thing Paul was out cold.

“What did you say, dear?” asked Doris, clearly hearing what he said.

“Must be that Viagra shooter.” He explained to Doris what Luis had told him while he laid Paul out on the mattress. “We still have about three hours before we need to call a doctor, though,” he said, now chuckling quietly.

As they watched Paul’s breathing, Doris asked Howard about their evening.

Howard beamed. “You should have seen him, Dor. This boy was amazing. And he showed it tonight. He rowed like nobody I ever saw. He certainly earned himself my respect and admiration.”

“And some of that money, too,” she said, pointing at the bulge in his Hawaiian shirt pocket. “A small retainer for doing most of the work, and suffering through most of the pain he is sure to have tomorrow.”

Howard looked at the wad of cash he held. He looked at Paul, and looked at Doris. “You’re right, of course! Stick out your hand!”

Doris held out her right hand, and Howard started counting 50 and 100 dollar bills until he got to $500.

“That’s what I started out with. Stick out your other hand.”

Doris closed her right hand around the money, and held out her left hand. Howard again counted out 50s and 100s, until he got to $1000. Then he turned, and started counting the rest of it, dropping it on Paul’s nude body as he did.

“…two-thousand eight hundred fifty, two-thousand nine hundred fifty, three thousand. And he earned every bill, too.” He looked at Paul, with all that money all over him. “He looks like that scene in…what was that movie called?”

Doris remembered the movie. “Indecent Proposal, except that was Demi Moore. He’s no Demi Moore.” She laughed. “And you’re no Robert Redford.” They both laughed, again.

He unbuttoned his Hawaiian shirt and his shorts and let them fall to the tent floor next to the air-mattress. “Wait here!”

He ducked out of the tent, and, after a splash of water, was back in again. He set the now empty fire bucket from outside next to where Paul’s face was.

“Just in case he gets sick through the night.” He knelt down next to him, and moved some hair out of Paul’s face.

He looked up at Doris, who was looking at them both. She realized that she was going to have a new friend in her life. She decided she had enough room.

Howard saw a twinkle in her eye. “I know that look.” He was feeling good about everything, and was in a playful mood.

Doris was equally playful. “You look almost as young at heart right now as he does! Almost!”

There were times like this when Howard couldn’t tell when she was pulling his leg, or if she were serious.

She bent down, counting out five hundred dollars from the pile on Paul. “I did say most of the work, and most of the pain, not all of the work and all of the pain. I’m sure you’re going to feel something tomorrow morning, too.”

He laughed. “I think I’m going to feel something even better in a few minutes.”

They both laughed as they went out thru the tent flap, and zipped it behind them. Howard tossed the keys over the windshield, landing in the front seat of his Jeep, holding his money in one hand, and Doris’ in the other, they walked across a toe path, and over to his camper. An hour later, all he could think was ‘Wow, what a night!’

Paul’s head throbbed. He sort of remembered what happened the night before. He pushed himself up, realizing he was sleeping on an air-mattress. He felt paper all over him, and remembered that he was at a sports bar.

He sat there, trying to concentrate as he counted the money: $2500. He straightened his back, and rolled his shoulders. He hadn’t rowed like that since last year’s regionals. He stood up, knocking his head into the hanging lantern. What came out of his mouth would have better been left unspoken. He sat down, holding his head in his hands.

‘I’m naked!’ he thought. ‘Why am I naked?’ Slowly, the rest of yesterday returned to him. ‘Oh, yeah! I work in a nudist camp now.’

‘Wow, what a day! But what have I gotten myself into?’

Pastor Linda closed the notebook.

“Wow is right, Mister Jacobsen, you’ve certainly written an interesting story. I hope there’s more to it then this one chapter,” she said out loud.

She stood up too quickly, and got light-headed! She caught herself at the end of the bed, and then lurched over to the table where Mr. Jacobsen’s things were. She put the 3-ring binder back into the large bag. She stood there until she regained her balance.

She was just about to pull the curtain back to let herself out, when another hand grabbed it and pulled it back for her.

“Who are you?” she asked, looking at a handsome man about her age, wearing mismatched scrubs.

“Oh, hi, uh, Pastor. My name is Tom Elliott. I stopped by to see how the man I brought in last night is doing.”

* * *

The END of Paul's New Job

But the series continues...

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