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Then it was over, and he stood up, looking embarrassed. His own shorts were wet where he came in them.“This calls for a drink,” I said, stepping out of my shorts and underwear. I opened the sliding glass door, naked from the waist down, went to the kitchen, and poured us each a healthy slug of Jim Beam. I brought our drinks outside, sat down, handed him his, and sipped mine.He took a big swallow of whiskey. His eyes avoided mine. “Any regrets, Jake?” he asked.“None,” I said. I was feeling relaxed, and sexy. “We need to do this more often.”“What would you think about going further?” The alcohol was making him bold. “I want you to fuck me, Jake. I’ve wanted that ever since I first saw you.”“Come over tomorrow night,” I said. “We’ll use the guest bedroom.”“I can’t believe this,” he said. He set down his drink. “Tomorrow, then.” He got up and went home.I sat in the darkness, thinking about what had happened, and could not find myself feeling even the slightest glimmer of guilt. Tomorrow. Ednesday, January 25 to Friday, January 27, 2006The guard's shift changed at 6am again, just as tersely as the time before. Most importantly, with no mention that I wasn't to be fed breakfast. I crossed my fingers.The time for breakfast came and went. I moved around so he'd hear that I was awake, but I got no response. What was worse, I also got no breakfast.I gave it half an hour, then asked, "Excuse me, is there any breakfast or just a drink of water this morning?" No. No talking."#7:
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