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Again, the image of little Marilyn on her knees in front of big Johnny Winston leapt into my mind. During the school year, Johnny was a defensive back for Southern Cal. Supposedly, pro teams were already calling him as well as every girl who ever saw him. Marilyn sure knew how to shoot for the stars. I wasn't sure about any "plans" I might make for the summer, but right now, I was dusty from the road and needed a shower. The screen door slammed behind me as I entered the old wooden bathroom in the center of camp. A line of sinks and mirrors lined the left side of the room. The floor was covered in wooden slats over a concrete foundation, sloping to a big drain in the center. I pulled open one of the big shower doors and turned on the hot water. Yep, there it was. The water was skin peeling hot in seconds. I quickly balanced the temperature with the cold, hung my towel on the hook next to the door and stripped off my clothes.
The water felt great. The pressure in these old stalls was more like a car wash, blasting down on you and steaming up the air in seconds. In the center of the spray, it felt almost like you were getting beaten. Little needles of spray pounding your skin by the thousands. I wondered about standing still too long, if I'd get a bruise. I put my hair under the spray getting it wet. Then I pulled out my scented soap and started lathering my body.