Painless (45 page)

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We pounded up the stairs of our home together.

I knew Spiridon was out, so I wasn’t worried about the noise bothering him.

I stumbled into the bedroom and crashed onto the bed. We stripped our clothes off while giggling at each other and dove onto the bed, heedless of the dirt from the trail.

We knelt on the bed together, facing each other. I was brimming over with confidence because I was thrilled that I hadn’t tripped on the trail. I had navigated the rugged terrain in the darkness like a master. My success fueled my throbbing excitement.

I traced the script of the Fearless tattoo on Christos’ chest with my fingertip. “Maybe I should get a tattoo across my chest that says Fearless,” I grinned.

“What, and mar those perfect breasts? Nothing made by the hand of man could ever compare to your breasts,
agápi mou
. To tell you the truth, I’m a bit worried about capturing their perfection when I paint them.”

“You can totally do it,” I said dismissively. When I’d first met Christos, I would’ve cringed at his words and asked for reassurance he wasn’t lying. Now I took it in stride. But the truth was, I wasn’t really into tattoos for myself. I joked, “Okay, how about I get a tramp stamp that says Fearless instead?”
 

He chuckled, “Definitely go with the tramp stamp. That way, when I’m taking you from behind, I’ll be reminded how badass you are.”

“Because we both know I have a bad ass,” I quipped, “in a good way.”

“The best way. You have an ass that launched a thousand ships.”

I frowned, “Wait, that sounds like something having to do with farts. Like my ass shoots cannon ball farts or rocket fart blasts that blow the sails that power the ships.”

“All thousand of them,” Christos grinned and shook his head. “Your imagination knows no bounds,
agápi mou
. Neither of limits nor of propriety.”

“And you love it,” I laughed.

“I do,” he smiled.

We began kissing, naked on our knees, chest to chest on our bed. The passion from the mountain top erupted once again, having never completely cooled. But this time it was sweetly, silkily different. Our love making was quiet and intimate in contrast to the savage intensity and wild abandon before. This time, not just our bodies, but our hearts beat together in that timeless, ancient rhythm of man and woman in perfect union.
 

The bonding of our hearts brought a powerful immediacy. I was intimately aware of Christos as he thrust tenderly into me over and over again. His heat, his scent, his weight. But also his compassion, his tenderness, and his love. I felt our souls joining as our bodies came together. I could tell he felt it too. Our eyes were locked as pleasure swept through us in a shower of orgasmic release.

We lay in each other’s arms on our bed as the embers of our fire cooled and the bond between our hearts strengthened, much like bedrock after the erupted volcano finally comes to rest. Our ritual of love was complete, body and soul.
 

Together, Christos and I had laid the foundation for our renewal and rebirth. Like Adam and Eve, we were Man and Woman.

We were Creation.

We were Love.

Love.

Chapter 20

SAMANTHA

“Do you think pirates ever used their peg legs as dildos?” Romeo asked thoughtfully.

I gawked at him.

An old guy with grizzled white stubble who was dressed in a pirate costume stood on the dais in the center of the room. He struck a classic pirate pose: hands on hips, one pirate boot up on a box, like he was at the front of a pirate ship. A cutlass hung in a scabbard from his belt and he had one of those black pirate hats and a fancy captain’s coat with hundreds of buttons.

The students were all circled around the dais, drawing the pirate, sitting on these cute little benches called drawing horses, which you straddled long-ways like a horse, hence the name. A vertical plank stuck up on the front end, much like the neck of a horse, and you leaned your drawing clipboard on it. I didn’t think they were big enough to be called horses, so I dubbed them drawing ponies. I would need to get a saddle for mine and properly bedazzle it with glitter and silver buckles in my spare time.

The class was Drawing The Costumed Figure. Professor Walt Childress, who had taught Life Drawing last fall, was our professor once again.

“I totally think pirates used their peg legs as dildos,” Romeo whispered as he sketched on the big drawing pad in his lap with his charcoal stick.

“He doesn’t have a peg leg!” Kamiko hiss-whispered while she sketched her own pirate drawing.

“But if he did,” Romeo muttered thoughtfully, “he would use it as a dildo.”

The old guy in the pirate costume suddenly coughed. Or was it a laugh? I wasn’t sure. But I did know that he was facing us and stood close enough to overhear Romeo.

 
Kamiko dropped her charcoal dusted hands in her lap, confused, and gaped at Romeo. “What?”

“I mean, seriously,” Romeo whispered, “pirates are gay. All of them.”

This time, the old pirate made a pfft! noise like he was trying to get Romeo’s attention, like maybe he wanted Romeo to stop talking. I couldn’t blame him. It was hard to concentrate once Romeo got going on a tangent.

Romeo was, of course, oblivious. He was totally going to get busted at the rate he was going.

I glanced around the classroom, trying to determine if we were bothering the other students or not, or if the professor had noticed we were talking when we were supposed to be drawing. Luckily, the professor was sitting at a drawing horse on the far side of the room with two students leaning over his shoulder while he explained how to draw the wrinkles of the captain’s coat just right.

Kamiko whispered, “That makes zero sense, Romeo. Pirates aren’t all gay.”

Romeo rolled his eyes, “Oh yeah? Why would any straight man lock himself away on a ship for months at a time with nothing but guys? Sounds gay to me.”

“What does that have to do with dildos?” Kamiko whispered, frustrated. “With all those dicks around, why would a bunch of gay pirates need any dildos? Duh!”

Romeo titter whispered, “When it comes to an orgy, you can never have too many dicks, darling. Wooden or otherwise.”

Kamiko grimaced and shook her head. “I’ve found that one is usually plenty.”

“I concur,” I grinned.

Our old pirate model cleared his throat. His face was turning red. He was totally listening and I think embarrassed. He probably thought our immature banter was offensive.

The young guy sitting and drawing next to me smirked and shook his head at Romeo and Kamiko’s running pirate commentary.

Yes, their commentary was slightly embarrassing. For now. But I trusted Romeo to take it from slightly to extremely in no time. He was the embarrassment express train, and once he got up to speed, there was no stopping him until everybody arrived at the humiliation station. Picture a giant steam train barreling along the tracks with Romeo’s face filling up the big circle on the front of the locomotive, his monocle in place while he smiled maniacally with his mouth wide open. His tongue would be dangling out the side and whipping in the wind while drool droplets flicked off. Smoke would be blurting from his smokestack in clouds shaped like letters that spelled out offensive comments.

Yes.

Romeo, The Loco Locomotive.
 

“TOOT! TOOT!” blows his whistle.

And we all knew how much Romeo liked to blow things.

I did my best to repress my snicker at the thought. I just hoped Romeo didn’t go off the tracks and kill everybody onboard his shame train.

“Wait,” Romeo said to Kamiko, “I thought your only dick experience was with cartoon penises. Have you finally taken the plunge? Walked a man’s fleshy gang plank?”

The young guy beside me snickered, but did his best to repress it and keep drawing.

“Fleshy gang plank?” Kamiko scoffed. “Only a man could draw a connection between a pirate ship gang plank and a penis.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Romeo frowned. “Gang planks are long, stiff and they stick straight out from the hull of the ship. How is that in any way unlike a dick?”

“But gang planks are made of wood,” Kamiko protested.

“Where do you think the term ‘woody’ came from?” Romeo whispered. “Or ‘morning wood’?”

“Not from gang planks,” she scoffed.
 

The pirate model blurted out a grunty, “Ahem!” He sounded like he could be clearing his throat or trying to get Romeo to shut up.

“Are you okay, Mr. Underwood?” Professor Childress asked the model from the other side of the room. “Do you need a glass of water? Or perhaps a break?” The professor sounded sincere. The model was an old guy, after all, and he could be overheating from embarrassment in that big pirate coat of his.

“I’m fine,” Mr. Underwood, the pirate model, said.

The professor returned his focus to the students beside him.

Romeo whispered, “See? The pirate’s name is Underwood! That proves my theory! Every man keeps wood under his pants!”

I repressed a titter as I glanced at Mr. Underwood to see if he was offended by Romeo’s comment. I couldn’t tell. He stared straight ahead, eyes locked in the distance. He was probably doing his best to block out Romeo. Poor Mr. Underwood. This was his job after all. He was paid to hold still and pose. He shouldn’t have to endure Romeo’s shenanigans.

“We were talking about gang planks,” Kamiko hissed at Romeo. “Gang planks have nothing to do with sex. People are forced onto them at sword point and ordered to jump to a watery death in shark infested waters.”

“Sounds like my last blind date,” Romeo grinned casually while he continued to draw his costumed pirate on his drawing pad. “But I wasn’t forced. And it wasn’t sharks. It was crabs. Good thing they aren’t fatal. But hey, I’m always looking for a good reason to shave my pubes.”

Kamiko gagged. “OMG! TMI! I think I’m going to be sick.”

The model held in one of those clicking laughs that people do when they want to explode with laughter but are forced to sneeze it out instead.

“Do you need a tissue, Mr. Underwood?” Professor Childress asked.

“I’m—” Mr. Underwood said, red faced and doing his best not to laugh, “—fine. I’m fine.” He shook his head, smiling big, like he was trying to shake away his remaining laughter. He screwed his face into a serious look. But his cheeks still quivered with repressed laughter.

The professor nodded, then went back to helping the students.

Well, at least Mr. Underwood wasn’t offended. I felt a little better, but I tossed Romeo a shocked look over Kamiko, who was folded over, clutching her stomach. If Romeo didn’t stop, we were going to get busted.

Romeo winked at me and whispered, “I’m kidding, Kamiko. It wasn’t crabs. It was barnacles. I had no idea that barnacles were a sexually transmittable disease. Lesson learned. Don’t have sex with crusty old pirate ship captains. Butt barnacles are the worst. Do you have any idea how hard it is to wipe when your butt is covered with barnacles? Barnacles shred toilet paper like nobody’s business.”

“HA!” the model shouted. Then he started coughing elaborately. But I could tell he was just trying to maintain a professional demeanor by hiding his laughter.

Romeo was going to get poor Mr. Underwood fired at this rate.

The professor stood up from his drawing horse and said to Mr. Underwood, “Let me get you some water.” He walked to the corner sink and filled a clean styrofoam cup from the tap.

Kamiko suddenly sat up, her face red, looking like she had diarrhea or was ready to barf after hearing Romeo’s barnacle comments. She turned to Romeo and mimed projectile vomiting in his lap with her hands, cupping them and moving them up and down in front of her mouth repeatedly. She made a choked sound, “Gack!”

“Are you sucking off a giant dick?” Romeo whisper tittered. “Or is it a giant wooden dildo?”

The young guy next to me blurted a restrained, whispery laugh.

The professor walked past us and handed the cup of water to Mr. Underwood, who thanked him and drank the water down in several swallows before resuming his pose.

Kamiko dropped her hands in her lap and looked at me, shocked with embarrassment. She was even redder than before.

“Ahem,” Professor Childress said as he turned around, standing right in front of us with a frown on his face and holding his arms behind his back in a teacherly pose. “Would it be possible for the three of you to focus your energies on your drawings rather than socializing during class? You’re distracting the model. And your classmates.”

“Geez, Sam!” Romeo growled, “I’m trying to draw! Stop distracting me!” He hunched over his pad and frantically shaded in his drawing of the pirate’s jacket with his charcoal stick like he was innocent.

“Me?” I squeaked. “You were the one who—!”

Professor Childress stared at me and arched his eyebrows expectantly.
 

I winced and smiled back at him. I’m sure I looked like a guilty idiot. I wanted to explain it was the Loco Locomotive’s fault, not mine.

The professor flicked his gaze from me to my drawing pad, hinting I should get back to work. I nodded and started sketching out the lines of my pirate’s hat like a good girl. My face broiled with embarrassment. I think I was now redder than Kamiko.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Kamiko was biting her lip, looking terribly frightened, like she was going to get detention, or maybe even expelled. She was drawing so furiously she was tearing holes in her paper. She folded back the torn sheet with shaky hands and started a new drawing. She whimpered while she worked.

The professor stepped around behind us. For the next two minutes, he loomed over us, making sure we were working diligently.
 

I was pretty sure his glare was burning holes in our backs.

After another minute, the professor leaned forward so that his face was right beside Romeo’s ear. In a low voice, he muttered, “Next time, young man,” he said to Romeo ominously, “I suggest you choose your pirate lovers more carefully.”
 

Romeo’s eyes goggled.