As the daycomes to a close, I wonder what it would be like to be one of the girls,knowing that that would never happen anyway. I roll over in my bunk ...osteal a glance at the cabin clock after I finish this thought to noticethat the digital readout says 11:11PM. There's something significantabout that readout, but my tired brain will never remember it.I roll out of my bunk in the morning, and get ready to go through theday. There's one thing missing though. I dont have my usual morningsalute. I. I couldn't count the number of times I'd had the urge put my hands on a stranger in the shower. I'd settle just for washing a back here or there, massaging cheap blue soap into the channels between ridged muscles, but what I really wanted was the freedom to admire with my hands all the hard and soft and hidden things men revealed as they washed away the smell of their exertions. I wanted to run my hand down a lean stomach as the guy next to me washed his hair. I wanted to dig my fingers into. More

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