Page 46 of Regret Me Not

“I’m supposed to do this with two sheets,” Hal said, sounding very professional. “Because not everybody wants to be all naked and stuff in front of someone who’s just going to rub their muscles.” He glanced up at Pierce and winked. “But I’ve seen all you got, so we only have to use it if you get cold. The one on the bottom is to sop up the extra oil so you don’t slide around the table like a pancake on a griddle.”

Heat rose up from the balls of Pierce’s feet to flush across his neck. “I, uh, take it I’m the only one who gets the optional top sheet.”

Hal laughed. “Yeah. I mean, people make a big deal about massage therapists and happy endings, but the fact is, getting a full-body massage is really a whole big… thing. A lot of people practically go into subspace when they’re getting a body rub—muscles in their necks and back that haven’t released in years suddenly don’t hurt anymore. It’s pretty euphoric.”

“No sex necessary,” Pierce said—he’d known this before, although he’d never gotten a massage himself.

“Oh, it’s necessary,” Hal purred, waggling his eyebrows. “But that’s just because I want you. Really fucking bad.”

“Again,” Pierce said softly.

“It’s not getting any less urgent,” Hal agreed calmly. He swallowed and bit his lip shyly. “It’s just this… this massage thing. It’s different. It’s not sex. I… it’s something I do really well, and I wanted to… togiveit to you.”

Pierce got it. “It’s my Christmas present,” he repeated, delighted.

Hal nodded. “Exactly! I couldn’t….” And now his bit lip seemed vulnerable. “I couldn’t find anything good,” he said finally. “Everything I found was an ‘us’ thing. I needed a ‘you’ thing. This thing—I mean, there’s sex tonight, but it’s ten in the morning. This thing is all about you.”

Pierce studied his bare and bony feet for a moment. “Jesus, Harold. I just got you a teddy bear.”

“And Legos,” Hal said softly. “And you.”

Pierce opened his mouth—not sure of what he’d say next—but Hal called him over. “If I was with a client, I’d leave the room, because, you know, privacy and professional. But here—give me the towel, I’ll put it down where your crotch is supposed to go. Now lie flat, facedown—yeah, face in the face cradle when you get settled.”

Pierce complied, taking his time because Hal was right. Theydidknow each other—hewasn’tself-conscious about how long it took to get situated, to place his limbs so they wouldn’t hurt, to be in a position where touching would be okay.

“Now I’m going to put some music in—I’m going to use movie soundtracks, because most of the time those don’t drive people bugshit, okay?”

Pierce had to smile. “Okay.” He put his face in the face thing, and Hal adjusted it so it didn’t feel like his neck was going to drop off, and then….

Transported was the only word.

Hal was right—it wasn’t sexual, even though Pierce and Hal were sexual creatures to each other.

But it wasamazing. Hal’s cheerful, kind patter and his hard, no-bullshit hands just sort of… pushed all of the tension, all of the pain out of Pierce’s body. They talked, like they always did. Telling stories, bullshitting, zinging one-liners, but the whole time Hal’s hands, his careful, caring, marvelous hands were ridding Pierce of every angry toxin that had knotted his muscles from his toes to his tingling scalp. Toward the end, the conversation died, and Pierce was only vaguely aware of himself, floating, the euphoria of pain and stress release suspending his busy, doubting brain, putting a hold on all the words, the obstacles Pierce tended to put in his own way.

There was only peace.

“Here you go,” Hal said, sitting him up. He must have gone into the other room for clothes, but Pierce didn’t remember him going. “I’m going to put on your sleep shorts and your T-shirt. If you feel like dressing up later, that’s fine, but until you’re a little less floaty-pants, that’ll do.”

“Floaty-pants?” Pierce asked, bemused.

“Yeah. Dude—that euphoria thing is strong within you. I’ve got over 300 hours, and I don’t know if I’veevermassaged anyone that tense.” He looked down, worried. “I… I wish I’d done it sooner, but you didn’t seem that excited about the idea.”

Pierce was too stoned on holistic pain relief to lie. About anything. “I didn’t want to take advantage of you,” he said baldly. “Because you’re young. And pretty. And you could be spending your time with hipsters and cute college students and you spent a month making a bitter old guy feel like sunshine.”

Hal paused in the middle of slipping his shorts on. “Like sunshine? No, don’t get up—I’m going to put your sandals on or you’re going to kill yourself on the tile.”

“My feet are slippery,” Pierce said wisely. Hal had spent twenty minutes on his arches and between his toes and… mmm….

“Yes, they are. I made you feel like sunshine?”

“Like the light from the sea through the sliding glass door,” Pierce said, gesturing vaguely to the view. Hal had pulled back the blinds that morning, and the whole world glowed gold. “I hated it when I got here. But you make my heart feel like that. And I’m like the storm. All grim clouds. And how do I ask for more sunshine?” Pierce smiled benevolently. “I don’t know how I’ll even see the sun again when I can’t see you.”

Hal blinked hard and stood Pierce up on his sandals while wiping his eyes off on his shoulder. “That’s…. God, Pierce. You’re really saying these things to me. Do you evenknowwhat’s coming out of your mouth?”

“Speaking of my mouth, are there cookies?”

Hal’s laugh sounded a little bit hysterical. “Just sit here, big man, and I’m going to clean up and make you such amazing Christmas cookies, I’ll ruin you for Christmas forever unless I’m there to cook for you.”