I am sorry, Bonita, but I am not that way.

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec They were nearly drunk by that evening and Maria wanted to go for a swim. They walked down to the shore and stripped naked. Maria did not think the woman so old looking now. She was quite pretty naked and she felt the woman looking at her again and this flattered her. She looked up to the heavens and muttered something. The assistant asked her what she’d said.
Maria stepped into the water and turning over, floated on her back. The sea was so salty that she could do this effortlessly. She was drunk enough to tell the pretty assistant what she wanted to know. She grinned and said, “I was talking to God.”
“Oh?” The pretty assistant swam up to Maria and put her hand on her head, leaned over and kissed her passionately on the lips. It was the softest, most tender kiss Maria had ever felt and she looked at the woman, then stood upright and put her palm to the assistant’s cheek.
“I am sorry, Bonita, but I am not that way.” She watched the woman’s heart break and gave her a smile. “I wish I were that way, but I am not. I would like to make God angry by loving women, but it just is not my way. I am sorry.”
The woman smiled and walked back onto the beach and dropped down upon the sand and stared up at the moonlit sky. Maria joined her.
“Why do you want to anger God?”
“Because God’s a bastard and a pendejo and an alfeñique.”
The woman laughed and stretched out on her side, resting her pretty face on her hand. “I’ve never heard anyone say such a thing.” Maria's Trail