Chapter Ten
By the time I left Sailo’s apartment and made it back to Ethan and Rhett’s, it was nearly four in the morning. Which meant I needed to get up and get ready for work, like, now. That might’ve been doable in my college days, but not anymore.
I left a little white lie in my boss’s voice mail, claiming to have come down with some upper respiratory thing that I didn’t want to share with the office. I assured him it was a mild one, that I’d most likely be back to work tomorrow. As it happened, my voice was probably pretty convincing too—for some strange reason, my throat was pretty raw.
Then I collapsed into bed, and that was it.
It was almost eleven when I crawled out of bed. Ethan and Rhett were long gone to work, so I had the house to myself. Sailo and I texted throughout the day, but he had his son for the afternoon and was working this evening, so I wouldn’t see him until tomorrow night.
As long as I was playing hooky from work, I indulged completely. I took full advantage of the guys’ Netflix password, which they’d given me the day I’d moved in, and lounged in their living room in a pair of sweats. I even ordered from one of the local sandwich shops that did home delivery. As my youngest son would put it—laziness level: expert.
Half an hour or so before Rhett was supposed to get home, I finally made myself presentable, texted him and Ethan to let them know I was making dinner tonight, and went to the supermarket a few blocks away. By the time they’d both arrived at home, I had some chicken cooking and a fresh six-pack in the fridge.
So, maybe it wasn’t the best use of the company’s paid time off, but it felt pretty fucking good to enjoy a day of doing absolutely nothing besides cooking for my friends. It was, I realized, the first time I’d done that since Becky kicked me out. Every day had been consumed with attorneys, moving, breaking the news to people, trying to go on as normal at work, and generally getting my feet under me. For the last twenty-four hours, though, it had been sex, sleep, and sloth.
I really need to do this more often.
* * * * *
By the time I returned to work the next day, I was well rested but still not terribly focused, because tonight I was meeting up with Sailo again. In between working and enduring meetings, we texted back and forth, and by the end of the day, we’d scrapped our plans to meet for drinks.
Screw it, he said. Just come by my place. ;)
Twist my arm.
The clock struck three, and I couldn’t get out of the building fast enough.
And finally, God finally, I was back in Sailo’s bed. Exhausted. Sweaty. Trembling. Wondering how the hell there’d ever been a time in my life when I wasn’t experiencing sex like this.
We didn’t say much for a while. As the dust settled and we caught our breath, my body was still achy, every muscle wrung out and completely spent, but I felt great. Especially since my tired body was pressed up against Sailo’s, his skin warming mine.
“Man.” Sailo scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m gonna fall asleep if we stay like this.”
I yawned. “You too?”
“After the way you wore me out? Definitely.” He turned to me, grinning. “I still can’t believe I’m your first. First guy, I mean.”
“You are.”
“Well.” He curved his hand over my thigh and slid a little closer. “You’re a fast learner.”
I laughed. “Isn’t like I’ve never had sex before.”
“Very true.”
We shifted a bit, facing each other on our sides. As he moved, the intricate lines on his arm caught my attention.
“I didn’t mention this before.” I ran my fingers along the edge of the tattoo on his pec. “But your ink is gorgeous.”
“Thanks.” He smiled. “It’s traditional pe’a.”
“Pe’a?”
He nodded. “Samoan tattooing.” He paused. “Well, I took a few liberties with this one.” He ran his hand over his arm. “It’s the traditional style, but there are some elements that aren’t. But this one…” He gestured down at his legs. “Completely traditional. The design and the technique.”
“How is the technique different?”
“The one on my arm was done with a modern tattoo needle. The traditional one was done by a master tattooist on Samoa with a thing that’s like a little comb, and he taps it with a mallet.” He pantomimed the technique on my arm, putting his fingertips on my skin and tapping the back of his wrist. “Like this.”
“For…for the whole thing?” I craned my neck, peering at the tiny dots and fine lines.
“The whole thing.”
“That must have been painful.”
Sailo whistled. “Very. Some men in my family had theirs finished in a few months. Mine took three years.” He laughed. “I doubt my brother will ever let me live that down.”
“He had it done too?”
“Yeah. And his only took six months, the bastard.”
I shuddered.
“To be fair,” he went on, “I was in college and couldn’t really fly to Samoa for weeks at a time like he could. Especially since, believe me, you don’t want to fly home three days after getting this done.” He patted his inked thigh emphatically.
“So you had it done in Samoa?”
He nodded. “The same artist who did it for my brothers, father, grandfather, and all my uncles. There are a handful of master tattooists in the States now, but the tradition for us means going back to him.”
“Do you think your son will ever…” I waved a hand at Sailo’s tattoos.
He shrugged. “Maybe. It’s really up to him. His mothers know it’s a tradition, and they know there might come a time where he decides to do it. But I won’t make him if he doesn’t want to. It was important to me, and I know my father was hoping for a long time that my brothers and I would do it. But after going through it—knowing how much it hurts—and also with something this big and permanent…it has to be his decision and nobody else’s.”
“That makes perfect sense. What does he think now? At this age?”
“He’s seen my tattoos, and I’ve told him why I have them. Right now, he says he wants to have it. But he’s six.” Sailo shook his head. “It isn’t something he needs to decide on right now, and I’m not going to let him make the decision until he’s at least a teenager.”
“How old were you?”
“When I decided? Or when I go it?”
“Both.”
“I was fifteen when I told my father I wanted it done, and nineteen when we actually started the work.”
“That young?”
“It’s not unusual.”
“Wow. You’re a better man than me,” I said. “My daughter got a small tattoo that took like half an hour, and the thought of even that…” I made a face. “No thank you.”
He laughed. “They’re not for the faint of heart.” He gestured at the ink on his thigh. “Especially not something like this. If it hadn’t been such a big tradition in my family, there’s no way in hell I would have gone through that.”
“I’m not even sure I could if it was a tradition.”
“You’d be surprised.” He draped his arm over me and smiled. “It isn’t fun, but you just tell yourself it’ll be worth it when it’s over. And that it will be over. Eventually.”
I shuddered. “I’ll pass, thanks.” I glanced at the tattoos. “But the result certainly is amazing.”
“Thanks.”
Our eyes met, and we both smiled.
Silence settled in. Slowly, I made the connection that we weren’t just making idle conversation. We were making idle conversation in his bed. Naked. With sweat still on our skin and my body still tingling from the orgasm he’d given me.
Sailo’s thumb traced a soft arc on my ribs. “You okay? You got kind of quiet.”
“Yeah, I’m…” I hesitated. “I guess I was just thinking about what we’re doing.”
“Which part?” A cautious grin pulled at his full lips. “Talking about tattoos? Or sleeping together?”
“Both?” I rested my arm on top of his, curving my fingers over his elbow. “A month ago, I was still sharing a bed with my ex-wife. Then I was going to dip my toes in and see if I’m really into men. And now, we’re together every chance we get.”
His brow furrowed. “Is that a bad thing?”
“I don’t know. I’m enjoying the hell out of it.” I paused, trying to gather my thoughts. “So this isn’t, um, weird, is it? Meeting up again just to, well, hook up again?”
“Weird?” Amusement curled his lips. “Why would it be weird? We enjoy it, so why not enjoy it twice? Or more than twice?”
“So it’s not…moving too fast?”
“In what direction?” Sailo touched my face, then lifted his head and kissed me softly. “We’re doing exactly what I think we should be. We enjoy what we’re doing, so we do it again. If we stop enjoying it, we stop doing it.” He shrugged, settling back onto the pillow. “Doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.”
“Fair point.” I laughed self-consciously. “I guess this is all just kind of new. I mean, I told you I’ve never been with a man before. I haven’t even dated anyone in almost thirty years.” I winced. “Christ, I just made myself sound old.”
He chuckled. “Well, you did marry young.”
“I did.” Too young? Starting to think so. “So, with all of that being said, I just want to put it out there that I have no idea what I want out of this.”
“Neither do I.” He traced my cheekbone with this thumb. “Let’s just take it a day at a time, and we’ll see what happens. For now, you seem to be enjoying the sex.”
“Oh yes. Very much.”
Sailo smiled. “Me too. So it doesn’t have to be more than that. If it is, well, we’ll deal with that when we get there. But this is good for now.” He slid his hand into my hair. “You’ve got a divorce to deal with. I’m juggling a lot of unpredictable gigs in between taking care of my son.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“And since neither of us has to be anywhere tonight…” He lifted his head again and kissed me lightly. “You’re welcome to stay here if you want to.”
“I would.” I sighed. “But I have to be on the road to work way too early.” I drew him down into another kiss, loving the way his thin goatee felt brushing against my chin. “Maybe this weekend, though.”
He pushed himself up a bit, scowling. “My schedule’s kind of a pain to work around, especially on the weekends. I’m at Wilde’s on Friday night, and I’ve got a wedding on Saturday afternoon, but if you don’t mind a late night on Friday and me rushing out by noon…”
“Sounds great to me.”
“Good.”
“And you’re…” I hesitated, struggling to hold his gaze. “You’re really sure about this?”
“Yeah, of course. Everybody has rebounds.”
“But I feel like I’m…” I wrinkled my nose. “Using you.”
“I know what this is, Greg.” He trailed the backs of his fingers down the middle of my chest. “You’re coming back into the game after a divorce. It’s your first time with a guy. I don’t have any illusions that this is—”
“But you’re okay with it? With me using you to figure out if I’m into men?”
He laughed softly. “I think we’ve established that you’re into men.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
“And as for the rest of it…” He shrugged. “I’m enjoying the sex. You seem like a cool guy to talk to. So, what’s not to like?” Before I could suggest anything, he kissed me softly. “If I decide I’m not okay with it anymore,” he whispered, sliding closer to me, “you’ll be the first to know. Deal?”
“Deal.” I wrapped my arms around him. He pressed his lips to mine again. Holding him close, I coaxed his lips apart, and he opened to my kiss. I slid the tip of my tongue beneath his.
I wasn’t sure who was in the lead, and I didn’t care. His arms were around me, his tongue gently teasing mine, and it didn’t matter who was in control as long as we didn’t stop.
The exhaustion of a late night after a long work day couldn’t compete with the way his touch brought my entire body back to life. I was going to regret this tomorrow, but I didn’t care. I’d been waiting my whole damn life for this—a drowsy day at the office would be a small price to pay for the way I felt right now.
Sailo’s hand followed my spine downward, and when he reached the small of my back, he pressed gently, drawing our hips together. His thickening erection brushed mine, and I held him tighter, kissed him harder.
He broke the kiss, and he was a little out of breath as he said, “You don’t have to leave right now, do you?”
“No.” I drew him closer. “I definitely don’t have to leave right now.”