Southern Scouting Adventures

This past Saturday I found myself waking up to a 3 a.m. alarm, showering, throwing some things into an overnight bag, and driving an hour to an airport to catch a 7 a.m. flight to Atlanta for an impromptu (as in finalized on Wednesday) overnight rendezvous with Scout.

Several weeks ago when he came to see me and we went out for a few drinks, he mentioned he was going to Atlanta in several weeks to see one of his childhood buddies – Al – and said that I should come. Given that he had been drinking and I didn’t hear anything about it for a while, I couldn’t be sure how serious he was or wasn’t about it so I didn’t press the issue.

He was away the week before last on a family cruise during which time Tyra hit me up to ask if I could pass her number along to him for a work-related matter of discussion. I told her he was away but that I’d be sure to touch base with him once he was back. (Admittedly, I wasn’t really 100% comfortable with offline interactions between them taking place, but I eventually bit the bullet and did as she asked – it was a legitimate work matter, after all. He was warned though, “playfully,” that no shenanigans had better take place behind my back.)

Then that Friday afternoon shortly before I left work, Tyra hit me up again to see if I wanted to get drinks after. I did. We met up and were out half the night. I made sure to capture a picture of us to tease Scout with once he was back, of course. I’ve seen her in passing and we’ve texted here and there, but I  hadn’t hung out with her  since the night of the threesome, so I knew he’d get a kick out of that.

When Scout made contact last Monday, freshly back from his cruise, I regaled him with the picture of me and Tyra during our outing. He was sorry he missed out, of course, but not long after brought up Atlanta again by suggesting that we both meet him there  on Saturday night. Tyra couldn’t make it (not that I really wanted her to – but I did ask for the sake of carrying it honestly), but I said I’d be down for it.

The only problem was that Scout could only fit me in for one night. Given the last minute nature of it, the flights weren’t running cheap so I would rather have stayed two nights to get my money’s worth. However, he and Al had obligations with other people that would not so much have been cool with Scout’s “hot girlfriend” (as he put it), so he was only able to clear the way for me for one night, so c’est la vie.  The flight was the only cost I needed to incur at least, as we were going to be staying at Al’s place and Scout promised that I wouldn’t have to spend a penny once I got down there.

So there I was at 7 a.m. Saturday morning on a flight to Atlanta to spend the day/night with my married lover and one of his best friends. That’s…different.

Scout and I had only spent one night together before this. That was back in September – a week before I went to Japan, coincidentally. He went to the beach for the weekend with some military buddies, and while he was originally supposed to head home Sunday night, he said he’d keep the hotel for another night if I’d make the drive to see him. So I did. Sex, football, food, and more sex ensued. As well as my first bout with the morning after pill. Fun times. In any case, I learned from that experience that Scout and I could stand the company of one another other for at least 16 hours, so I figured adding on another 8 wouldn’t be so bad. It was only the unknown factor of Al being thrown into the mix that made me somewhat nervous.

I landed in Atlanta a little before 9 a.m. Scout was there to pick me up not long after, his 6’2″, 220-pound frame squeezed into Al’s tiny 2-door Toyota Yaris, which was quite the spectacle. I hadn’t ingested anything yet but a 0-calorie Monster energy drink on the way to the airport so breakfast was the most immediate priority. Scout considerately asked if I would rather it be just us or if I wanted Al to tag along, but I was having none of that alone business…I would have to meet Al eventually and I didn’t want Scout to feel like he couldn’t include Al in our activities, or for Al himself to feel left out, so he stopped back at Al’s to pick him up and we made our way to a diner not far from his place.

They really are kind of opposites, which adds a unique dynamic to the friendship, I suppose. Scout is a muscular, salt-and-pepper crew-cut sporting, gun-toting Republican ex-Marine, while Al, whom Scout lovingly described as his “hippie, liberal friend,” is a soft-bodied, black shaggy-haired glasses-wearing Chess geek.  And I liked him immediately. We warmed up to each other pretty quickly over breakfast which assuaged my nervousness a lot.

After breakfast (complete with a couple of mimosas for me), we went back to Al’s place where I continued my day drinking with a beer and Scout looked up the particulars of a waxing place he wanted to take me to. The day before I had a horrific experience with my regular place at home which kind of bummed me out because now I need to make some other arrangements to keep myself groomed on the regular.

Long story short:  I was 10 minutes late for my appointment due to rush hour (I normally go on weekends but wanted to be freshly groomed for Atlanta) and they told me they couldn’t see me that day once I arrived. I was not a happy camper with this “policy” that seemed to spring up out of nowhere, plus the fact that the 20 minutes left in my appointment block would have been MORE THAN ENOUGH time to get me in and out. My girl was more than happy to accommodate me, as I’ve been a faithful customer of hers (and hence, the establishment) for a year and a half now, but the owner and the receptionist were such bitches about it that it turned me off and I walked out.And that was that.

Which is just as well since I’ve been considering getting a consultation for laser hair removal for a while now after pondering the pointlessness of waxing. I pay 50-ish dollars a pop every 5 weeks to rip hair off my bikini area that only ends up growing back. It’d definitely be more fiscally intelligent to invest in a permanent solution instead of throwing away money waxing endlessly. So here is my opportunity.

Anyway, I had briefly touched on that experience to Scout the night before, and he later asked out of the blue  if I had ever tried brazilian “sugaring.” I’d heard of it, but never tried it, and he said that he had an activity in mind for me the next day. So back at Al’s we were able to get a 3 p.m. appointment.

During this initial time at Al’s place, I noted that Scout put his hand affectionately on my thigh while he was sitting next to me on the couch. I found that gesture remarkable firstly because this is the rare chance that he has been able to let his guard down with me when there are other people around. Otherwise he has never really had the opportunity to express physical affection with me outside of touching me when we are engaged in either pre- or post-coital activity. As such, I never really had a real chance to assess whether he is an affectionate person or not. That simple gesture answered my question.

Secondly, I was a little nervous about how the vibe would be with Al around. As it happens, Al is actually dating the best friend of Scout’s wife, and obviously seriously so because he’s in the process of moving out of state to move in with her. So him not only having knowledge of, but even being complicit with Scout’s infidelity necessitates a certain level of secrecy and deceit within his own relationship so as not to cause problems for Scout. So I’m not only Scout’s secret at this point, I’ve become Al’s secret as well, as this excursion would definitely be something he has to keep from his own girlfriend.

So even though Scout made it clear that he trusted Al wholeheartedly, I was nervous about that whole dynamic. Would Al feel uncomfortable around me/us? Would Scout keep me at arm’s length around Al just like he does when we’re around other people we know? Would there be any awkwardness?

No, no, and no. The fact that Scout felt comfortable being affectionate with me around Al spoke volumes about the level of trust and comfort he feels within their friendship, and that realization helped to set me even more at ease. We were safe there. We could be ourselves.

Eventually Al started rattling off suggestions for things we could do before it was time for my appointment. We all decided that the High Museum of Art sounded like a safe bet, so off we went. I’ve only been to Atlanta once, when I was 5 or so. I barely remember anything about it from then so it was nice to take in the sights and energy of new surroundings. Scout was gracious enough to let me sit in the front seat while Al drove so I could easily observe the passing scenery as we went. Atlanta is a really beautiful, green, city in some parts.

The museum was interesting. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to one, but I guess, given the nature of my visit, something “different” was definitely in order. Not that I don’t like them or am generally opposed, because I love art and culture, but it’s just not something I’d ordinarily take it upon myself to do on my own.

One particular favorite..a painting I thought was a photograph at first with the exquisite detail:

EstesSupremeHardware1974
Richard Estes – Supreme Hardware, 1974

After the museum we journeyed to the waxing salon. With the events of the day before at my home salon still fresh in my head, I was glad to be 20 minutes early. Accompanying male figures weren’t welcome to linger around the waiting area, so Al and Scout dropped me off and went on to find some other way to amuse themselves, but not before Scout handed me a $100.00 bill and told me he was treating me. I kind of figured he was going to do that since it was his idea in the first place, but it was still a nice half-surprise.

I’d never done the sugaring thing. It’s supposed to be slightly less painful and less irritating to the skin than wax, but to me, at least in feeling/pain level, there was no big difference between that and regular waxing. I can’t really tell if my skin is less irritated or not after the one occasion. Either way, it got the job done. And it was Scout’s gift to me, so if he likes it, I love it.

They obviously hadn’t ventured far because they were back to retrieve me within minutes of me texting Scout t0 let him know I was done (and in 20 minutes, so SCREW YOU to my former salon) and we went back to Al’s where he laid out a spread of cheese (first time having manchego – yum), crackers, salami, chips, and salsa, and we chilled out for a little while. I partook in more beer and this time around Scout joined in as well. Al has to refrain from drinking for the most part  due to health ailments, so he stuck to water. We sat around talking for a bit. Al and I bonded over our mutual love and ownership of cats (his was already stationed in his new home, thank goodness, because Scout is allergic) and we contemplated what we wanted to do with the evening and night.

When I talked to Scout the night before, he said they were at a bar playing some golf arcade game that they make a point of playing every year during his visit. It sounded entertaining, so I said I definitely wanted to try that out and then afterward the general plan was to grab dinner and then find a chill bar to close out the night. They both showered, I refreshed my makeup, and we went to hit the town.

I got my ass kicked by both of them in the golf game, but it was fun. From there we went to a place called Murphy’s for a fabulous dinner, and then right around the way to a cool little bar that the Murphy’s waitress had suggested. This is where I was able to pry some more stories out of Al about a young Scout, who sounded like a bit of a hell-raiser with some of his adolescent antics. It was interesting to observe their interactions and conversations then and over the course of the day – there is obviously a strong bond there forged through over 30 years of  history and friendship, though the odd couple they may be.

As it was nearing 11 p.m. my energy started to wane. I’d been up for 20 straight hours at that point, and even the little bit of sleep I did get Friday night was only about 3 hours’ worth. I started dozing somewhat at the table, so we decided to call it a night and retire back to Al’s place to drink there. But I didn’t get more than half a beer in before dozing off some more on Al’s couch and spilling some of it on myself, so at that point I decided it was time for bed. But not before Scout took my fresh brazilian for a spin. Only this time there was no time limit – he didn’t have to jump up and shower and leave by 2 a.m. and I got to sleep in his arms.

The next morning I was back at the airport at 8 a.m. kissing him goodbye and headed back for home. Quickest vacation ever, but it was worth it. It was an occasion of positive firsts: Our first time engaging in daytime activities together. Our first time hanging out with one of his friends. Our first time having a sit-down dinner together (bar food doesn’t count).

And I guess I consider it flattering, and maybe even kind of validating of my importance to him, that he would have me meet one of his best friends. As I said previously, I was a little afraid the experience might be awkward with me being the secret mistress and/or Al possibly feeling like a third wheel, but it wasn’t at all. As Al is leaving Atlanta to move in with Scout’s wife’s bff, it was actually their “last hurrah” of sorts, and I got to be apart of it. Al is really nice guy and I enjoyed the chance to meet him and to interact with such a pertinent part of Scout’s life, history, and development. Through getting to know Al, I feel like I got to know Scout a little better. The kinds of friends people choose are very telling.

Most importantly, I found out Scout’s biggest secret of all: He’s actually a big sweetheart. Not that I ever had reason to think he’s not…he’s never been a dick to me and we’ve always gotten along well…but our situation has always been on the one-dimensional side, given the inherent limitations. He comes over in the later hours of the night, we may or may not chill for a little while before we have sex, we cuddle for a while after, then he has to shower and leave. On occasion I’ll see him out at events for colleagues or we will sneak out to a bar together, and we had the beach rendezvous that time, but other than that we typically have to shy away from the public eye…we can’t really “date” freely. So being away from out native land together where we CAN interact and express ourselves freely in public without being wary of who’s watching or might see gave us the opportunity to behave more like a normal couple. And he treated me like a princess. It was wonderful.

He even seemed to get somewhat wistful at points, expressing surprise at how long we’ve been involved now – a year and a half – and asking if I ever imagined when we first met that we’d be one day sitting where we are – in his best friend’s place in Atlanta. That it would get this…deep, basically.

And I didn’t. I never imagined it would last this long or that he would become such a steadfast factor in my life. He’s one of my best friends. I trust him. He obviously trusts me. I love him. He more than likely loves me. But we’ve never said anything like that to each other and it’s probably best that we don’t because those kind of sentiments would only be dangerous. But I hope he knows.

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