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afternoon, Senator Langtree, good to see you, sir.” Samson greeted Harry like an old friend with a big smile and hearty handshake. The black valet was dressed in a stiffly starched white shirt, black bow tie, black slacks with a razor-sharp crease, and spit-shined shoes.
    “Will your guests be swimming this afternoon?”
    Harry nodded.
    “Very well, sir, please follow me to the dressing room and I will issue your swim attire. This way please.” Samson extended his arm in the direction of the dressing room and led them away. In the dressing room, Samson issued them navy-blue swim trunks. They were also given thick white towels with the White House monogram, washcloths, bars of soap, and a locker.
    “The pool temperature is a constant ninety-eight degrees,” Sampson said after assigning the lockers. “That’s a little warmer than most folks like their water, but most folks didn’t get a PT boat shot out from under them.” Without taking a breath, Samson continued. “The water is recycled every forty-five minutes and the pool is attended by a Red Cross certified lifeguard. That’s her sitting in the chair on top of the pole. She is a good swimmer, good looking, and holds a Black Belt in karate. She is also a member of the Whitehouse Secret Service team and fully armed,” he concluded with a smile. “Gentlemen, enjoy your swim.”
    The low ceiling of the warm pool provided no relief from the humidity of Washington. It made Rod sympathetic for those crawdads he and Junior caught by the bucketful that Mrs. Jefferson steamed for supper. The warm water loosened Harry’s back up, and Jack said his sinuses were clear for the first time in days.
    The hectic pace of the trip, the super-warm water, and the lack of lunch began to wear on Rod. He was getting hungry and hadn’t seen a single Mexican restaurant on their way to the White House. At this point, he would even settle for one of those awful Yankee hamburgers, a paper-thin patty drowned in mustard, pickle relish, and ketchup.
    After half an hour, without warning, Harry pulled himself out of the pool and announced, “I don’t know about you two, but I have had about all I can stand for one day.”
    “Yes, sir, me, too,” Rod said and climbed out of the pool.
    Jack followed them toward the dressing room.
    The stinging hot water steamed up the shower room. It took Jack and Harry back to their old football days at A&M. Harry snapped a towel on Jack’s rear, raising a red welt.
    “Okay, you asked for it,” Jack said and returned the favor as the two jumped around, popping each other like a couple of kids. Rod had never seen Jack so spry but stayed clear of the towel fight and enjoyed the camaraderie between old friends.
    “Mr. President, welcome back.” Samson’s greeting echoed through the locker room and stopped the horseplay in its tracks. The dark-haired young man entered the locker room after hearing the snapping of towels and howling by the two over-the-hill jocks.
    “Harry, if you moved like that in the Senate we would already have my Civil Rights legislation passed by now,” the President joked.
    “M-Mr. President . . .” Harry stammered, wrapping his naked body in his towel. “I thought you were up in Cape Cod. I hope you don’t mind me bringing my guests from Texas for a swim,” and added with no hesitation, “I’d like you to meet an old friend and A&M teammate of mine, Jack Workman.”
    Jack also wrapped his towel around, covering the red welts. He quickly extended his right hand to meet the firm grip of the ex-Navy officer. “It’s an honor, sir.” Then Jack turned to Rod. “Mr. President, I have a young man here who wants to meet you. He’s going to be an All-American at A&M in a couple of years.”
    Rod stepped out from behind Jack and sheepishly stuck out his right hand, holding his towel with his other hand, and said, “Glad to meet you, sir.”
    “Congratulations, Rod. I played a little football myself. Nothing like the caliber