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Olaf made a movement that in anyone else I’d have said was a shiver. I’d never seen the big guy that unsettled. “I cannot believe you are happy with being Anita’s Bride.”
“If you had asked me ahead of time, I’d have said hell no, but now it’s just peaceful. Like I told you earlier, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”
Olaf shook his head. “I do not think I would be happier as someone’s slave.”
“He’s not my slave,” I said.
Olaf gave me the full weight of his cave-black eyes. “He must obey your every word. He has no free will of his own. Your happiness means more to him than his own. If he is not your slave, then I have no word for it.”
“If you’re in love with someone, then sometimes their happiness is more important than yours,” Edward said.
“Then love is just another kind of slavery.”
“It’s not,” I said.
“It’s really not,” Edward said.
“It’s wonderful,” Ethan said.
“It can be better than almost anything,” Milligan said from his piece of wall.
“Better than being out in the field with your brothers-in-arms?” Olaf asked.
Milligan smiled. “I said almost anything.”
“If your wife was here, you’d say it different,” Custer said.
Milligan shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t. She understands. That’s why we’ve been married for ten years.”
“Congratulations,” Edward said.
“Yeah, Millie here is the old married guy in our unit,” Custer said.
“Ten years is a long time for one of the Team’s guys to be married,” Edward said.
Milligan smiled and nodded at the compliment.
“Olaf, if you see being in love as slavery, then why do we need to have this big talk?” I asked. I took a sip of my Powerade, too. I really did want to do better, but I’d still rather have had one of the soft drinks.
“I am offering sex, not love. We’re having the big talk, as you put it, because you’re afraid to have sex with me.”
“Do you blame me?”
“No, but I am offering to have ordinary sex with you, not my normal way.”
“What do you mean by ordinary sex?” I asked.
“Plain vanilla sex.”
“We’re going to have to define terms,” I said, “because one person’s plain vanilla can be someone else’s rocky road with sprinkles on top.”
Olaf frowned and sipped his bottled water. “I do not know how to answer that.”
Angel said, “Some men that say straight vanilla mean missionary position with no foreplay and doing it for God and making babies.”
Olaf made a face as if the water tasted bad, but apparently it was more Angel’s words. “No, no, that is not what I mean by the phrase.”
“That’s what I mean about needing to define terms,” I said, and leaned my butt against the edge of the window frame while I sipped my almost yummy sports drink.
