HE WAS WASHING CLOTHES in a bucket, on a little patio between the hotel and the jungle. The sun was already high and she had stripped down to a pair of orange panties. She kneaded vigorously and let the water splash over her breasts and run off her tanned thighs. She glanced up at him and said, "I won't be long." "That's OK," he said, and began to string a line between the building and the nearest tree. He offered her the use of it and she began to wring and hang a load while he used the bucket. He watched her singing and stretching up to the line. They had nothing to say but they found a lot to smile about. In fifteen minutes, they were through with the laundry and making small talk about where they'd been and where they were going. She put her dress on and followed him to his room to check out the map. They sat on the bed and smoked cigarettes, while she told him about her dreams and he wondered what to do next. He fiddled with the ashtray and kept the conversation alive. She leaned over to touch his wrist and see the time. She had to go – someone was taking her out in a glass-bottomed boat to look at the fish on the reef. She stopped at the door with a quick smile. She came back and kissed him, gently and slowly, while her right hand brushed down his back, from shoulder to thigh and round to the front, where it lay for a moment on his sudden erection as she pulled away. "See you later, maybe," she giggled.