Page 71 of Judging Duke

Barbara disappeared into the villa, saying she was going for a lie-down, that all the sea air had taken it out of her.

Despite being here a few days, I’d yet to venture down to the beach. Steep steps, cut into a rocky incline, led to a white sandy beach with gentle waves lapping on the shoreline.

Children played on the sand, building castles and digging holes, while their parents sat in chairs, drinking wine and snacking on food from picnic baskets.

It was a far cry from the beaches of England, where the sand was always damp and the setting of the sun usually meant a drop in temperature. Here it was the complete opposite, and the setting sun still warmed the air even though the last rays were slowly slipping beyond the horizon.

I stripped off my shirt and tucked it into my waistband, my shoes in hand.

I stood at the water’s edge and took a deep breath, closing my eyes.

“Are you okay?” Duke asked.

“I am now. What about you?”

“Definitely better. I do not want to experience that again.”

I paddled in the cool water, my feet sinking into the gritty grains. I twisted them until they’d disappeared and wriggled my toes.

“I remember when Robbie and I used to go to the beach. We’d build sandcastles and trenches and bury our dad. The sand was always cold and wet, though. Not at all like it is here. You could almost believe you were in paradise.”

Duke stood next to me doing the same, his elegant feet much larger than mine.

“We never went away much. Mum and Dad were always working. Isla and I spent most of the holidays with our gran. Beach holidays didn’t come until much later.”

“Until you met Robbie, and then you spent a lot of your holidays with us. I remember when you first turned up. You were this scrawny boy with an attitude, but you were always a good friend to Robbie when he didn’t have many. He could never quite keep his mouth shut and upset more than a few.”

“I’m still his friend.”

“Then why haven’t you been to visit him? He said he wants to see you.”

“Does he really, though?”

“Jesus, Duke. I wouldn’t lie to you. Perhaps when we’re back in the UK, you could go see him. At least talk to him.”

By now, the sun had set, the sky clinging to the last ravages of daylight. We’d started walking, and the villa was at the other end of the cove. Duke sat on a rock overlooking the sea. I sat next to him, our legs mashed together.

“Here, scoot over.” I bumped into his hip with mine, almost knocking him to the ground.

“Are you really retiring from the porn industry?” Duke’s question came out of the blue, and I wondered how he knew I’d been thinking about it.

“Maybe. I know I could go on forever if I wanted to. Plenty of movies have older men in them.”

“You’re thirty-four. Hardly drawing a pension.”

“You know what I mean. It was a means to an end at the time. I needed the money to get help for Robbie. I was lucky and got spotted by a big syndicate, although I didn’t get into gay porn until a few years later.”

“Can’t say I’ve seen any of your straight stuff.”

“But you’ve seen my others?”

“I’m not scoring your performances. We’ve already had that discussion.”

“A guy could hope for a ten.”

Duke turned his head, his eyes dark in the fading light.

“You asked me to fuck you earlier, or are you backing out? I have scorecards if you need them.”

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