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I’m always there with my little niece, and he’s always there all by himself. Every Sunday morning at 8:30. All by himself with the paper. He’s older than me by far, silver-haired and well-worn in his jeans and his turquoise corduroy shirt. But he’s good-looking in that tough cowboy sort of way, and he’s strong and straight-backed, and I watch him drink his coffee and read the paper, and I think about him.I dress better than I need to on Sunday morning’s at 8:30, putting a little extra effort into my outfit. I make an effort, and I think he notices. I think he knows I’m dressing for him. When we walk into the cafe, he always looks my way, and I see him memorizing the way I look, as if storing up my image for later use. At least, I hope that’s what he’s doing.Sometimes, I imagine what I might say if we were to find each other all alone together. Maybe back by the payphones near the two tiny restrooms. I try to picture our conversation, try to hear it in my head. Could I tell him I have. This You do while I am washing up the dishes from dinner and putting the rest of the provisions in the walk-in pantry. You come out of the bathroom wearing a robe and fur booties (to keep Your feet warm in the cabin) and order me to pick up the locked suitcase and carry it into the smaller of the two bedrooms, containing one single bed. I place the suitcase on a wooden chair by the side of the bed and you open it with a key, located on a chain round Your neck. The first item You remove is a black rubber sheet that You order me to place over the bed. The next item removed is a large industrial-size roll of cling wrap and I immediately know what it is for. You order me to remove all my clothes and stand to attention. Starting at the neck You wrap me fairly tightly with the cling wrap, doubling and tripling the layers, until You have reached my knees. You then order me to lay on my back on the bed and finish the cling wrapping from my knees down to my ankles. Once You have me.
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