Page 36 of Semper Fi

He found himself walking again, turning down a dim alleyway behind a row of shops that were closed for the holiday. As he approached the battered red door, he felt that familiar old rush of adrenaline, even as the pang of guilt hit. He wiped the sweat from his brow, pausing at the threshold.

There was no sign, or markings of any kind.

Just a bright door with chipped paint and a handle that creaked as he twisted it.

The hinges were rusty as Cal swung the door open decisively.

Inside, a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling illuminated the staircase leading down.

If he’d thought the humidity outside was bad, it was nothing compared to the lush, thick air he practically had to push aside as he descended.

Most men with money would go to the Everard on West Twenty-Eighth, but Cal cringed at the thought of running into anyone he knew. The last thing he needed was Nicholas Bourne wanting to go for drinks after a fuck, or even Michael Thorngood, eager to relive their past.

The young man in the booth at the bottom of the stairs glanced up, his head resting on his hand. “Sixty cents.” He slid a thin folded towel across the counter along with a basket. Cal dropped his wallet, keys, watch, and spare change inside after taking out two quarters and a dime.

“Room seventeen.”

Cal nodded and continued to the end of a short hallway. Once through the door, the steam and smell of sex hit full force. Men of all ages were spread out across the open shower room—some literally spread, being fucked and moaning hoarsely.

Along the wall were small rooms with faded curtains for doors.

Cal didn’t bother pulling the curtain behind him as he entered seventeen, which was empty but for a low cot and hooks on the wall for his clothing.

He stripped off and slung the scratchy towel over his shoulders.

Making his way slowly through the main shower room, Cal perused the clientele, falling back into his old routine.

Hands reached for him, touching here and there, but he didn’t stop.

Finally he saw a young blond waiting his turn outside the small steam room, glistening and hard, with dog tags around his neck.

Cal joined him, turning on the smile he knew few could resist. The boy blinked and stepped close, his hand reaching for Cal’s cock as he leaned in. Cal turned his head, avoiding the kiss.

Closing his eyes, he willed himself to relax.

The boy’s hand was smooth— too smooth —but he stroked Cal expertly.

Cal returned the favor, keeping his face averted as he began to get hard.

The boy nipped at Cal’s neck, making little sounds— too high —and Cal fought to clear his mind. To just be in the moment.

What would Jim think of this place? Think of me?

The guilt reared its head again, and Cal swore under his breath.

The boy’s movement faltered. “Is it okay?”

Cal nodded and dropped to his knees on the hard, gritty tile. He swallowed the boy’s dick, breathing him in desperately. Sucking roughly, he stroked around the base of the stranger’s shaft with his hand. But it was all wrong.

When the boy spurted into his mouth, Cal spit it out and wheeled away, ignoring the stares and the boy’s calls. In his room, he yanked the curtain behind him, gasping for breath. He leaned a hand on the wall and spread his legs, stroking himself harshly. If he could just forget…

But his mind filled with Jim’s smile. His laughter.

The taste of his skin. The gasps he made when he came.

The feel of his touch. His breath in Cal’s ear.

The thump of his heartbeat. The reassurance of his quiet presence.

The twinkle in his eyes when he made a joke.

The firmness of his body. Cal’s name on his lips —

With a choked gasp, Cal’s balls drew up and he shot over his hand.

Any pleasure was gone in a blink, and he stroked himself harshly, spending as much as he could until he had to stop, hollow and empty.

He wiped himself with the towel and tugged on his clothes, getting his socks wet and not caring as he shoved his feet into his oxfords.

He practically ran up the stairs and outside, choking in the humid air. As he walked on, weaving over to Fifth Avenue, the tension that had taken root since he left Clover Grove only felt tighter.

***

“Cal.”

“Father.” Cal closed the office door behind him and sat in one of the chairs opposite his father’s desk. He waited.

It was almost a full minute before Calhoun Cunningham the second put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his round belly. He was impeccably dressed, and his graying hair was trim and brushed back with pomade. “What can I do for you?”

Cal cleared his throat. “I was thinking that with everything going on in London, it might be smart for me to go back over and take care of a few things.”

His father only watched him with a steady gaze, barely even blinking.

“There’s uncertainty, and I can help ease the transition as we open the new branches.”

“Can you now?”

Cal stopped himself from fidgeting by digging his fingers into the armrests. “Yes.”

His father stared a while longer, and Cal swallowed the resentment burning in his gut. Yes, his father had taken him back at the bank with no questions asked when he’d suddenly returned. But he’d known the silence only meant his father was biding his time before saying what was on his mind.

“What’s to say you won’t abandon your post again?”

“I didn’t abandon anything. I waited months to come home and made sure everything was running smoothly. But with the new acquisitions, the situation has changed. I think the company will be better served with me back in London.”

At least with the Atlantic between them, Cal wouldn’t be tempted every day to get in the car and drive back to the orchard, even only for a visit. The best thing was to get far away.

“And what happens when your girlfriend has another crisis?”

Cal’s breath caught. In all his years—in all his battles with his father—it had never been addressed. But now disdain and disgust dripped from his father’s tongue.

“You know it was my war buddy who needed help,” Cal said.

His father laughed, a bark that echoed off the polished wood surfaces around them. “Oh, I know a lot more than you think. I’m not such a fool as you like to imagine. What happened? Lover’s spat? ”

Struggling to breathe evenly, Cal shifted in his seat. “No. It wasn’t like that.”

“I don’t want to know what it was like. I’ve put up with your filthy predilections for far too long. You were useful after the war. It did you good, going over there. Toughened you up.” He paused, emotion flickering in his eyes. “I was proud of you.”

Despite himself, something small and young inside Cal rejoiced at hearing those words.

Then his father went on. “But if you go to London this time you’d better not come back unless it’s with a wife.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Why the hell not? Plenty of your kind fake it. Your apple farmer did.”

Cal clenched his jaw. “Don’t talk about him.”

“Oh, is it true love? I guess not since you came running back here with your tail between your legs. Did he have enough of you? Can’t blame him really.”

Cal leaped up. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know that you’re a disappointment of a son, and that your sister’s idiot husband is going to have to carry on my legacy here unless you finally decide to be a man.”

“You know what? I don’t need you, or this job.

Grandfather left me my inheritance free and clear.

I don’t know why I ever worked for you.” He laughed humorlessly.

“I’ve been trying to please you and spite you in equal measure ever since I can remember.

I don’t know why we go on this way.” He shook his head as the anger drained away. “Enough’s enough.”

His father sighed. “I agree, son.”

“I’ll pack up my things.” Cal turned to go.

“Your mother expects you next weekend for her charity event. Don’t disappoint her.”

Cal nodded and closed the door behind him once and for all.