Nary A Heart Forsaken

I was still conflicted about having sexual relations with another man even after my wife had stated rather matter-of-factly that I should fess up my trepidation to Jeff. The fact that Kat didn’t have any qualms about having sexual relations with another woman didn’t seem to put a dent in my confliction.

“Don’t forget Dear,” Kat began, “Today is the last day of the cruise. Tomorrow we disembark and head for home. I want to take Zola with us… at least for a week so that she can get a feel for what might be available opportunities in the metro area.”

“You know for a fact that she’ll be okay with that?”

“Not yet. That’s why I’m taking her to the spa today. I’m going to discuss it with her. And that’s where I need your help.”

“Oh? I was under the impression you two were getting along like two peas in a pod. You know, Sisterhood of the Scarlet Cheeks and all.”

“We are, but Jeff is so protective of her, I need you to convince him that it will be safe to let her come with us.”

“How the Hell am I supposed to do that Kat?” I complained as I replayed in my memory the conversation with him from the previous evening, the one where I explained that I wasn’t ready to get experimental in the bedroom… with him.

“Don’t ask me Sweetie. You’re the problem solver. Solve the problem.”

When Kat walked out of the cabin, the proverbial ball had been lobbed into my court. Presumably all I needed do was wait the scant few minutes until she and Zola were off to the spa. And then… well, and then… I should go have another nervous conversation with Jeff. I groaned.

Looking through the peephole in the cabin door for a few moments I decided it wouldn’t provide a good enough vantage to determine that they’d actually traveled back toward the spa. I opened the door. Glancing out into the corridor toward Jeff’s and Zola’s cabin, I waited to see them exit, hoping that I wouldn’t be caught looking but prepared for it just the same.

They did, then it was upon me. It seemed like it would be just as awkward to hurriedly shut the cabin door as to be seen as spying, but it wasn’t like our women weren’t at all familiar with my face, so I waited for them to pass with as pleasant a look on my face as I could muster.

Kat lead the way. She reached out her arm and brushed my cheek with her fingers and a “Love you babe. Good Luck!”

Zola trailed and beamed at me as she passed, “Heya Stud Muffin. We’re countin’ on ya!”

Oh My God, Zola appeared to already knew what Kat expected of me. I should have been prepared for that, but in truth, I wasn’t. Now if I’m unable to convince Jeff to let Zola accompany us back home, they will both feel let down. For some reason, that exacerbated the pressure I felt.

Remembering Jeff’s inclination toward spending hours in the casino on the ship, I didn’t wait long before heading to their cabin. He might not actually be intending to head out at the moment, but it sure seemed like it would be better to avoid that possibility.

Just as my hand raised to knock, their cabin door opened to the sight of Jeff about to exit. “Dale…”

I bit off my response that seemed to me a bit too trite, “Jeff…” and waited for him to continue.

“I was just going to see if you wanted to get a drink or something. Our conversation yesterday evening was a bit awkward. I thought, maybe I should apologize.”

I gulped and hastened to reply, “Ah, oh, um, that’s actually what I was about to do… apologize. I think I might have been a bit abrupt yesterday.”

“Hold that thought, okay? I know the privacy of our cabins might be the best place to have this conversation, but if you’ll excuse me, I think we could both benefit from a bit of lubrication, if you catch my drift.”

“Not really, no. I don’t think I want to even talk about this anywhere except…”

“Relax, fellow, I’m not wanting to either. All I’m proposing is that we go to the tequila bar and get a flight of shots, blanco, reposado, and anejo, then come back to either our cabin or yours to talk things out.”

“Oh.”

“My treat, okay?”

“I don’t see that’s necessary, but I don’t usually go for tequila. That old joke keeps playing in my mind when I think about tequila shots.”

“What joke is that?”

“One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor…” I detailed in my best dad joke intonation.

Jeff laughed, “I’ll have to remember that one! Seriously though, I think we’re both kind of apprehensive about this, so I don’t think the shots are going to be too much. But if you want to stop after the first couple I don’t think that will be a big deal. Please? Say yes?”

I gave it a moment’s thought then asked for reassurance, “Just the shots and back here then?”

“Honest! We won’t talk about anything but the weather until we get back here. Cross my heart!”

I sighed and stepped back a bit waving him on out. Jeff stepped out and closed the cabin door before adding, “One thing though… let’s grab a basket of french fries from the burger joint on the way to the tequila bar.”

“That makes sense,” I replied, “I’ve heard potatoes soften the effects of alcohol. And those fries are some of the tastiest fries I’ve ever had. Let’s do that.”

Five minutes later, we had our fries in hand when we bellied up to the bar. When we had the bartender’s attention Jeff ordered, “First Timer’s Flight.”

I added, “Same here.”

When the tray of shot glasses appeared before us and we’d signed the bills, Jeff pointed to the glass with the clear liquid saying, “Start with this one… it’s the youngest, aged the minimum and it’s less refined. It will help you appreciate the others more. It’s the blanco.”

He picked his up and held it out for me to follow suit and toast him with the same, so that is what I did, picked up the clear shot and brought it to his glass and they clicked before we drank.

I wasn’t accustomed to drinking shots of alcohol at 9 AM in the morning, but here we were, taking our shots almost straight after breakfast. At least I’d had a hearty meal. The liquid fire went down my throat… heating every inch of my esophagus to my gut. Downing it that quickly, mimicking Jeff’s action, I didn’t actually taste much at first.

When my mind registered the contents warming my stomach, the residuals started seeping through my palate’s senses. It was bright and slightly astringent in flavor, definitely a palate cleanser so to speak.

After that first one, I was certain that I would never get used to drinking shots this early in the morning. I was just beginning to catalog all the unique sensations to doing so when Jeff picked up the second shot glass with the light amber liquid in it and held it up to me.

Obviously I was expected to follow his actions, and my autonomous reflex kicked in and before I knew it I’d picked up the matching glass and held it up to his until they clicked together, this time maybe a bit more definitively than the first.

A part of my mind registered consternation at how quickly I’d followed Jeff’s actions, but I tried to play it off to a sense of when in Rome do as the Roman’s would sort of vibe. Thankfully, I had a moment to catch my breath as he informed, “This one is the reposado, it’s aged over two months and up to a year… often finished in an oak barrel to add a different tenor to the flavor… down the hatch!”

After the first shot, this one didn’t feel like it was liquid fire pouring down my throat. It went more smoothly, though it warmed my esophagus as much as the first did. It was definitely easier going down, and the effects of the first shot started to make my brain fuzzy around the edges of my thoughts.

That was kind of alarming. I quickly crammed a half dozen of the french fries in my mouth and started chewing while Jeff grinned at me and did the same at a less frantic pace. He gave me a moment to finish my mouthful before hoisting the final glass of the flight.

I began to wonder if that Dad’s joke about tequila shots had a bit more truth to it than the usual, but for the moment I felt like my thoughts were only slightly fuzzed by the tequila shots. I took a deep breath before picking up that last shot glass.

Holding my glass aloft and clinking it against Jeff’s it sounded a bit louder than the last time… perhaps my depth perception was being affected slightly.

“This is the anejo, it’s aged from one to three years maximum and is undoubtedly the smoothest of the three. Anything aged longer is considered extra anejo, but it doesn’t get much smoother than the anejo aged at just under three years.”

Jeff downed his shot immediately. I was undecided and hesitated. My thinking was already fuzzed. How much more fuzzed would it be if I took this last shot?

He’d suggested that I didn’t need to do all three shots. I looked at him, my shot sitting on the bar. I tried to read his look. It seemed hopeful, but not impatient. Clearly, he wanted common ground with this. And I kind of wanted to provide that commonality, but I didn’t want to loss all sensibility in the process.

“It’s okay man, you don’t need to prove yourself. You don’t need to finish,” he said.

Intellectually, yeah, what he said was true, I didn’t need to prove myself, but fuck it I wanted to prove myself! I mean, I was successful in my career, but I wasn’t getting any younger. I knew I shouldn’t be comparing my virility to his, but a part of me wanted to see myself as just as young as I once was, just as virile as I once was, as he is right now.

Fuck me!

I slammed the shot back as fast as I could without thinking about it. I almost didn’t feel it going down, it was that smooth, or maybe my gullet was just that numbed. I don’t know that I will ever know the difference. But then the flavors permeated my fuzzy thinking and coaxed my agreement. Damn that was good!

I looked at Jeff then, and met admiration. My vision was starting to blur and get fuzzy around the edges also.