When One Door Opens Read Free

drink. I don’t have alcohol, and I never do, or coffee or pop because the caffeine makes me hyper, or more hyper and—”
    “Water’d be great.”
    “Right, sure.” He headed for the kitchen. “Oh, the part about me not being a freak. Total lie.” He pulled out two bottles of water and handed one to Logan.
    Grinning, Logan accepted the bottle. “At least you’re an honest freak.”
    “Only when forced,” Caleb said.
     
     
    L OGAN unlocked the door to his studio apartment and made his way inside. After securing it, he stood in the middle of the dank room, his mind going back to the conversation with Caleb. Three years! This place wasn’t much bigger than the cell he’d lived in for the past year. He’d been sentenced to three years, but lucky enough to get out in one. Caleb was as much a prisoner. Except he hadn’t done anything wrong and had no guarantee of ever being released. That’s a fucking depressing thought.
    Logan walked over to his kitchen , which consisted of a wheezing minifridge covered in cut-out comics, a microwave, and a coffee machine. He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. It wasn’t the drink he wanted, but he unscrewed the top and downed the contents. Needing to rein in that train of thought, he dropped to the floor and did twenty push-ups. He alternated between sit-ups and push-ups until all thoughts of oblivion in a bottle fled his mind.
    Recovering, he lay back with his arms folded and cupped behind his head, looking at the water-stained ceiling. He’d considered himself lucky when he’d gotten the “no deposit necessary” lease even though twenty-five ex-druggie, ex-crazy, or ex-con residents also called it home. It seemed like a bad idea to have that many unstable individuals in one place, but choices had been limited to say the least. He needed to open the windows and get the fan blowing. Not that it would do much to stifle the oppressive heat. Catching a whiff of himself, he cringed. He was ripe before the workout; now he smelled like a dead skunk. Maybe that was the real reason Caleb was standing on the other side of the room. The thought made him smile, and he hauled himself to his feet.
    After opening the windows and starting up a white, plastic fan, Logan entered the cramped bathroom, turned on the shower, and adjusted the spray to just above lukewarm. Removing his clothes, he got into the stall. He slid the glass shower door shut and let the water wash over his face and body. Even after a week of being on the outside, the luxury of showering without an audience and taking as much time as he wanted was still a heady feeling. He toyed with the idea of a cold shower to get relief from the heat, but his calf muscles whimpered at the thought.
    He ran a washrag over his broad chest. He’d always kept in shape, but he had packed on more muscle after his conviction. There hadn’t been much else in the way of entertainment in prison. The weight room became his main escape from tediousness. There were other reasons to want a hard, strong build in prison, but he didn’t like to think about them. He’d closed the door on that life. After he lathered his shaved head, he squatted and turned to try to get the spray to hit the top of his head. The world was built by midgets. Ridiculously, the thought made him think of Caleb. Caleb was probably just shy of six feet, which made him tiny in comparison to Logan, but hardly short.
    Logan closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his hand on the shower wall in front of him as tepid water poured over his back. Thinking about Caleb was a bad idea. He knew it, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. The subtle once-over Caleb gave him after he’d calmed down had sent a thrill running through Logan that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Picturing Caleb’s face as Caleb licked his full lips, Logan slid his hand to his hardening shaft. Caleb’s long fingers would be satin-smooth but firm as he gripped Logan’s cock. For a