The Brier Patch #10 Hot Tub Rules Strictly Enforced

Sue Ahn of Vancouver, Washington was chosen last week’s $25 winner with the correct answer to the question: When doesn’t Bill get high? Ans: IN THE DAYTIME.

Terry and I wheeled into the Seaside Hot Springs Resort around dusk.

Our dinner coupon included a free bottle of wine that we enjoyed with our meal, while watching the sun disappear behind the mountains.

Back in our room, we rolled around on the waterbed before dressing for our next activity. Terry slipped a robe on over her one-piece bathing suit. I opted for robe only.

We wandered along dimly lit gravel paths among sycamores and oaks in search of a hot tub with a clear view of the sky. The wooden tubs were of varying sizes.

“Here’s a nice mid-size one,” I said and dropped my robe.

“Look,” Terry said, pointing to a sign and wriggling out of her bathing suit.

We don’t soak in your toilet, so please don’t pee in our hot tub. If everyone enters naked, make others feel comfortable—disrobe as well. No sex without the consent of everyone present. Don’t stare!

We slid into the bubbly hot water. It’s from underground and leaves you smelling like sulfur.

I lit Terry’s pipe, and we played footsie under water. I identified Venus and began naming constellations.

“Shh!” Terry said. “Listen.”

The Other Couple

“Ahoy, there,” I called out.

A couple came bouncing up the path. The man had his arm around the woman’s waist and carried a picnic basket.

“Oh,” the woman chirped. “I didn’t see you people.”

“Come on in,” I said merrily. “Room for everyone.” I floated over to Terry.

“We’d love to,” the woman said. “Harry, pop the champagne and we’ll join this nice couple.”

Harry got busy, and the woman kicked off her sandals.

“Where are you from?” I asked her, eager to see the bathrobe go next.

“Minnesota,” she said, slipping off her robe.

Damn! A bathing suit. At least it was two-piece.

She sat on the deck and dunked her feet in the water. “Ooh,” she cooed and splashed. “It’s hot.”

“Mineral water,” I declared. “Extremely healthy.”

The weed from Terry’s pipe had kicked in. “Great for boosting circulation. We’re Bill and Terry.”

“I’m Sandra and this is my new husband, Harry.”

“Ah, newlyweds,” I said and gave a frog kick over to Harry, now in his bathing suit and handing his new wife a glass.

“Glad to meet you, Harry.” I threw out a wet hand.

He took it, and having glimpsed Terry’s boobs bobbing on the water, said, “California’s some state. Should have visited here ages ago.”

He laughed and shot a furtive glance at his wife, who seemed oblivious to his drift.

“A wonderful state,” I said. “People pretty much do as they please. Of course, there are rules we all must adhere to.”

I pointed. “Take that sign, for example. Would you believe the management has the right to enforce such rules?”

Sandra squinted. “I don’t have my glasses. Harry, what’s it say?”

Harry’s gaze followed along the words on the sign. Then he sipped his champagne and smacked his lips. “Well, honey,” he put down his drink and slipped off his bathing suit. “It appears we’re overdressed.”

Welcome to California, folks.

Next Week: Big Sur, Hot Tubbing, Massaging, And …