Sailorboy

And it wouldn’t happen now. Chad was a one-time relationship. That had happened naturally, but I had no intention of making that choice for my life. It took too much out of me. I don’t know why Ron thought I was interested in this. Had he taken my offers of dinner and a ride and a tennis date as some sort of cruising him rather than just friendliness, albeit friendliness driven by loneliness, a loneliness and feeling of isolation I might have mentioned to him? Maybe I had been too forward. But I’d end it right here. I just wouldn’t show up to pick him up for tennis, and he’d get the message.

I stewed for days and days, always resolving my consternation with the declaration that it would go no further.

When Ron opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat beside me the next Saturday morning on the Naha pier, I turned my head and leaned my face into his, as he guided my lips to his with a hand behind my head. He pressed his tongue at my lips and I opened to him in a deep kiss. In addition to his racket, he’d brought a fairly hefty duffel bag, which he threw into the small space behind the seats of the Z4.

“I’ve got the whole weekend off,” is all he said as I started off, my hands trembling so badly that I wondered if I’d be able to keep the convertible on the road.