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wink.
    “Oh, hell yes. I keep expecting my hair to fall out alongside my teeth.” He got another of those laughs, the sound filling the air.
    “I hope not, that would be a shame.” Damn, had he said that out loud?
    Chance gave him a grin and a wink. “Yeah, I agree. Still, we’re looking fine for old dudes. I mean, you take damned good care of yourself.”
    He shrugged. “Just do what’s habit.”
    “I’m more just lucky. I’m a natural beanpole.”
    He chuckled. He’d have called Chance a long, tall drink of water rather than a beanpole, but he supposed the analogy worked.
    “Man, when I get wealthy, I’m going to put a real life swimming pool in. Chlorine water and all.” Chance grinned. “Snake free, thank you.”
    “That mean it’s not safe to go for a dip with the fishes?”
    “I’ve never really tried. Never seen a snake in there, but by myself? That’s one hell of a chance to take.”
    “Well I’m here now if you’re hot and wanted to have a dip.” Not to mention he wouldn’t say no to the view that would result in.
    “Hmm.” Chance gave it a minute’s thought. “I think I might, just to say I had.”
    Chance stood, stripped off his shirt and belt, shucked the ancient jeans, leaving him in nothing but deep green boxer-briefs, hugging a good-sized package. Sam was surprised to see a dreamcatcher tattooed on one thin shoulder, the eagle feather trailing down Chance’s spine.
    “That’s a fine piece of work.” The man as well as the tattoo, though he’d keep that little tidbit to himself. He tried not to shift and make it too obvious he was starting to sport wood.
    “Thanks. It was my second. Lucky had one to match.” Chance waded into the water, slow and careful, the green of the shorts going black.
    “Your second? Where’s the first?” Now that? Might have been a leading question. It all depended on where the other one was at.
    “Hmm?” Chance turned to face him, pulled the waistband of the briefs down on the left side, exposing another feather, this one with strips of beaded leather disappearing into dark gold curls.
    Well hello, sailor. He swallowed hard. “Nice. There a significance?”
    The waistband was settled back into place. “My first lover was an art student and a Latoka Sioux Indian. He drew it for me.” Chance grinned. “I’m sure he had the symbology figured, but I was so scared of the sound of the tattoo gun, I didn’t listen.”
    He chuckled. “That’s a hell of a place to have your first one done. Why’d you and Lucky go with the dreamcatcher?”
    A beautiful striking man no doubt, that first lover. And talented. An old war horse like him hardly stood a chance, so he resolved himself to just watch and enjoy the view for as long as he was there.
    “Partially because I had the one and wanted to stay with the theme.” Chance waded deeper. “Mostly because Lucky was fixing to head to Saudi and he was scared, having nightmares. We got shitfaced the night before he shipped out and decided the tattoos would keep him safe, let him sleep.”
    He winced. “I’m sorry.”
    “Oh, it happens, I guess. I mean, he died doing what he loved. Lucky was a lifer. He loved the whole package.” Chance gave him a smile, and it didn’t look forced at all. “He’s in a good place now. I’ve done my mourning for him.”
    He nodded. It was a good attitude, one the family of a lifer needed. He’d been a lifer himself, the early discharge due to the bum knee that just wouldn’t heal up enough for him to be of use to anyone. He almost envied Lucky.
    “You probably would’ve liked Lucky, although I’d have had to point him out to you. It’s funny -- we’re identical twins, but he wasn’t diabetic, so he was bigger than me by damned near eighty pounds. Strong.” Chance gathered the water up in his hands, poured it over himself. It was like a god-damned porno and he had to spread his legs where he sat, giving his cock more room.
    Sounded like Chance was more his type