The showers felt too bare, too cold. Water hissed from two running spigots, not loud enough to cover the sound of slapping flesh and moans from the couple in one corner. From the steam, Felipe got glimpses of body parts. The curve of a pumping buttock, a taut shoulder, one man’s clenched hand against the green tile. Felipe stood in the mist for a moment, waiting for arousal. It wasn’t enough.
The laundry room was still and dark. The folding tables were bare and smelled of the spray bleach, permeating the air near the washers. Felipe ambled to the huge commercial dryers, stepping behind the line of seven-foot-tall machines. A four-foot corridor between the machines and the concrete wall held dryer hoses, lying on the floor like huge pink snakes fitted into the wall. Warm air remained even
