Page 70 of The Falcon and the Foe

“Are you cool with being chopped up into tiny pieces?”

I believed him for a split second before he cupped my chin and kissed away my anxiety. One creaky staircase later, and I found myself in a recording studio. A glassed-in booth sat in the corner with a microphone, laptop, and sound mixing board. Despite it being in a basement, the setup had an impressive professional quality. It wasn’t just tinkering around on some radio ads; it was his own small business. The rest of the basement had the usual assortment of an old couch and TV and tons of dusty boxes.

“This is where I record all of my voiceover work. The red bulb is to let Josh know I’m recording and he can’t come down.” Cal flipped a light switch against the wall. “So now if schooldoesget let out early and Josh is unable to go to Edith’s, and hedoescome home, we’ll be safe. Even though the odds of that happening are nil, and thus in the words of Joey Tribbiani, it’s all a moo point. Joey is from—”

“Friends. I know. Monica and I watched it religiously in high school.” I let out a hearty laugh. Cal made me happy, genuinely, unabashedly happy. I didn’t know this type of pure glee was possible as an adult. My fingers danced over a second audio control panel that lay outside the booth. “This is all yours?”

“It’s not the most state-of-the-art, but it more than gets the job done.”

“This is incredible.”

“Thanks.”

“You started this from…”

“Nothing.” Cal shrugged with modesty. “I fell into it because I couldn’t get cast on live action stuff. I was at a party and did some impressions, and a guy there hired me for an episode of this animated web series. From there, things took off.”

“Then how come you work at the supermarket?” I regretted how that sounded. Snob and a half. “Not that it isn’t a good job, but if you have this...”

“The work can ebb and flow, and it doesn’t come with health insurance. I moved back to Sourwood to give Josh a stable home. I didn’t want to work a nine-to-five. I couldn’t imagine sitting in front of a computer forty hours a week, no offense.”

“None taken.”

“The grocery store pays well, has full benefits, and gives me the flexibility to continue pursuing voiceover work. Yeah, it’d be great to be able to focus on this stuff full-time and grow the business. Maybe in a decade when Josh is off to college.” A wistfulness gleamed in his eye. Cal navigated the audio board with delicacy and precision, a master at his craft. “I know some parents at our school look down on me for working at the grocery store, but it works for us.”

“Fuck ‘em.” I was one of them, and my wrongness about Cal Hogan slapped me in the face. It was so easy to judge him from the outside just because he didn’t bring the right snacks to school events, but that shit was trivial compared to the important parts of being a dad.

“Speaking of fucking, the clock is ticking.” Cal tapped the non-existent watch on his wrist.

I planted a soft kiss on his lips, a total one-eighty from our rendezvous in the woods. He pushed back with passion and tenderness, tugging me closer.

“I can’t fucking believe we’re doing this,” Cal said against my lips.

Neither could I. “Do you remember when you jumped me on the couch?”

“Five minutes ago? Yeah, it rings a bell.”

“Thank you for doing that. Thank the fucking Lord you did that.” I slid my tongue against his and moaned into his lips. That tongue was multi-talented, able to impersonate a wide swath of voices. I wanted to see what else it could do.

Red flecked the peaks of Cal’s cheeks. I ran a hand over his beard, then dropped it to his chest, his veracious heartbeat vibrating on my palm.

Cal was warm and smelled sweet, like fruity shampoo mixed with a nutty coffee smell. The kind of smell of a warm blanket on a cold morning. Sound mixing switches dug into my lower back and butt.

“I don’t want my ass to break your expensive equipment.”

“Good call.” Cal put a possessive hand on my ass and pushed me flush against him. His erection dug into my thigh.

My pent-up need gushed forth—rubbing my boner against him, hands touching and grabbing his chest and ass and shoulders, and it was nowhere near enough.

How could I think we’d leave that weekend in the woods alone and pretend it didn’t happen? I was like a cat who’d snuck outside once and spent the rest of my days meowing at the door.

“I have an idea.” A devious smile slashed across his swollen lips. “Get in the booth.”

“What?”

“It’s soundproof. You can be as loud as the hell you want, and nobody will hear.”

That sounded scary in the wrong context. But here, it made my cock jump.

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