Henry's End (12 page)

“Edwin, this is Ryan. Ryan, Edwin is a good friend of Henry’s.”

Pulling out another rocks glass, “So nice to meet you.”

“Put that thing away,” Edwin gestured to the glass. “I want a pitcher of something yummy and I want a pink straw.”

Laughing, “Of course you get a pink straw, handsome. I wouldn’t dream of anything else.” Ryan smiled at Henry’s older friend.

He could feel him slip
into the cool crisp sheets and spoon him, his long, muscled body fitting perfectly to his length, but he was too tired to roll over and even acknowledge his presence. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in so long and his entire body ached with fatigue.

The soft kiss on his shoulder brought a smile to his face. He loved how tender he could be.

“How are you feeling,” his voice a seductive breath.

“I’m ok. Tired, but ok.”

“I worry about you. You know that, don’t you?”

He just shrugged.

“I worried about you the whole time I was away. Worried you wouldn’t love me anymore when I got back. Worried I’d die in the middle of that squalid war zone and no one would tell you that I was dead. Really, I worried about that. I was so afraid if that happened that you would think it was my choice not to come back to you.”

“I didn’t think you were coming back.”

“All I thought about over there was coming back to you. This. Right now. Feeling you next to me. What it feels like to be inside you. That’s what kept me going when I was on missions and nights when it got really bad.”

He felt his hand snake around to the front of him. His flat palm sliding smoothly over his hip bone toward his groin.

“You got so thin while I was away. You really need to take better care of yourself.”

His hand was now encircling his cock and as much as he didn’t want to get hard for him, his damn penis had a mind of its own. As he started to stroke him, he hardened, saluting the captain.

“Yes, this is how I know how much you missed me, how much you still want me. You never could resist my touch and I love how you are a slave to it. No matter what. A slave to me. You’ve been my slave since that day we met. Do you know how much I love that?”

Love that? Is he serious?

His grasp tightened on his cock.

“Ouch. That hurts.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” His grip remained firm.

“Yes. I know how much you love that I’m a slave to you.”

“Good.” He continued to squeeze.

“You’re hurting me.” The pleasurable pain had crossed the threshold to agony.

“Oh, don’t be such a fag, Henry. You know what it’s like when I
really
hurt you.”

“Please stop. I’m so tired. Please just let me sleep. I need to sleep.”

“You’ll sleep when I let you,” he hissed.

He could hear himself scream as his hair was yanked by the roots and his head slammed into the wooden headboard. One time. Two times. Three times.

It was the same every night.

Drenched in sweat, he shivered as his tee-shirt clung to cold, clammy skin. With his stomach cramping and that God awful headache, he put his head in his hands and pressed the sides of his skull with the heels of his palms, silently begging for the pain to stop.

With a sigh, Henry turned on the light and reached for the bottle of painkillers. He sat there for a moment, after swallowing the acrid tasting pill, trying to slow his breathing. Opening the drawer of his nightstand, he withdrew his PalmPilot and scrolled down to the calendar function.

Putting an X on the date, he added the consecutive number. 127. Tonight was 127. No wonder he was so exhausted. Night 127 of the nightmare. It altered a little, but generally remained the same. And the aftereffects never wavered.

The dream was like a prophecy.

“You’ll sleep when I let you sleep.”

Henry was quickly losing hope that he’d ever let him sleep again.

It had been almost six
months since the attack and with Edwin’s help, he was getting out of his apartment every day and finally driving again. At first, it had been a walk up the block for basic necessities and then the five block trek to his therapist’s office. Eventually they began including coffee shops and book stores in their journeys, places where Henry could relax without constantly looking over his shoulder.

“I told Schooner about the nightmares,” Edwin blew out the smoke from his Galoises, as he picked up his latte.

Shaking his head, an “ugh” sound escaped. “Is that why he wants me to come meet him at his Carlsbad facility? Is it some kind of intervention?” Henry’s friend had opened one of his Level Nine, or L9 as they had become known, fitness and entertainment complexes in Carlsbad the year before. It was his most southern location and people were actually driving up from San Diego to join the famed facility and say they were L9 members.

Rolling his eyes, “No, I don’t think so. Maybe he just wants to get your tight little ass in the steam room and have his way with you, with what I imagine, and I imagine nightly,” his smile bordered on sinister, “to be one formidable cock.”

“Why’d you tell him about the nightmares?” Henry was picking at the crumbs of his cranberry-orange scone.

“Because I’m worried about you and I know he is, too. We want you to get your life back on track, the way it was before.” Henry was still on medical leave from his very understanding company, “And I just wanted to hear his voice and touch myself.” Edwin puckered his lips and blew Henry a kiss.

“You are a lecherous old thing,” Henry laughed, his face relaxing, and the handsome boy Edwin once knew, a boy he no longer saw often enough, was again sitting across the table from him.

“It’ll do me good to take the drive,” Henry acquiesced, “and I guess work out. It’s going to be painful. I haven’t been on a treadmill in over six months.”

“Well I’ll let you see your friend alone this time,” Edwin pointed his cigarette at Henry, “but next time I’m coming with you, and if I’m really lucky, coming with him,” he finished with a shimmy of his shoulders.

Only Schooner,
Henry was smiling as he walked into L9/Carlsbad. He’d been to two other L9 locations, but this was his first visit to this one. Just walking through the parking lot toward the entrance he could already envision the space into which he was about to walk. And his first step through the door did not disappoint.

The two-plus story ultra-modern glass and steel structure resided on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The unobstructed 180° view was breathtaking and inspiring. Halting a foot within the entrance, Henry stood mesmerized. Beyond the main fitness facility with its SkyTrack, was an infinity pool that rivaled the landscape of a five-star resort. Beyond it, ocean and sky stretched to true infinity.

Only Schooner.
Henry realized he was smiling, feeling a pride for his friend that one can only feel for those they love deeply. A man that half of southern California thought they knew, yet who was truly known by very few, camouflaged by the perfect mask.

“Can I help you,” the perky blonde behind the desk asked, sharing a warm smile.

“Yeah, hi,” Henry was brought out of his reverie. “I’m Henry Clark, I’m here to see Schooner.”

Her smile brightened even more, “Yes, he’s expecting you. Let me page him.”

He appeared out of nowhere, and as Henry watched the big blonde cross the facility toward him with a lithe grace that used to dominate southern California tennis courts, he knew that his smile matched his friend’s. They enveloped one another in a warm hug that caused staff to turn to see who their boss was greeting so intensely.

It had been nearly a month since they had seen one another, the longest they’d gone since the attack. Henry felt an immediate purge of stress, just seeing Schooner.

“You’re looking great, except for those circles under your eyes, but I think those surgeons might have made you too pretty,” Schooner kidded.

“Afraid of the competition?”

Laughing, “Bring it on.” He slung a muscled arm over Henry’s shoulder.

“So I understand Edwin had a little chat with you.” Henry broached the subject first, so as not to be blindsided by his friend.

“Yeah,” Schooner nodded his head, “that’s pretty alarming, H.”

“Tell me about it. My nights are hell.”

Stopping in front of the glass wall overlooking the ocean at the far end of the club, Schooner turned to Henry, his face serious, his blue eyes almost stormy, “You are letting him continue to steal your life and that is what I don’t like, H. Stop giving him the power. The asshole is in a shithole in the Gulf and he’s never coming back to sunny, warm southern California. I can guarantee you that. So, take the power back.” He gave Henry’s shoulder a squeeze.

“I wish I knew how. I’m in therapy twice a week. I never miss a session. I take the anti-anxiety stuff when I need it.”

“I’ve been thinking about this and I just want you to hear me out, OK. Come with me.”

They exited the back of the facility out onto the pool deck.

Stopping for a second, Henry took in the view, breathing the sea air deep into his lungs. It felt good, evoking memories of bicycle rides along the water. He hadn’t ridden his bike since before it all happened.

He followed Schooner off the left side of the deck down flag stone steps onto a lusciously landscaped path that led to a small building that had been obscured by the trees. Unlike the main facility, the wood structure had an earthy feel to it.

Before they entered, Schooner turned to Henry, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Crossing the threshold, Schooner stopped and removed his shoes and Henry followed suit. From a side room a woman emerged, greeting them with a warm smile.

“Ivy, this is my very good friend, Henry Clark and H, this is Ivy Mattheson, our lead Hatha Yoga instructor.”

“So nice to meet you, Henry.” She took his hand in both of hers, shaking it warmly.

The jolt of energy from her hands that transferred to Henry took him by surprise.

“I was hoping the two of you could spend a little time together so that you could give Henry kind of an overview of the healing properties of yoga and what medical studies have found.” Turning to Henry, “I’ll be in my office in the main building when you’re done. Take your time.” With a touch to Henry’s shoulder he was gone.