Page 20 of Julian Shared
I dart inside the guest bathroom and apply a fresh layer of sunscreen onto my face.
It doesn’t matter what I’ve learned or how I’ve reacted to it.
Joel and I don’t need any other men in our bed.
What we need is a hobby. One for us to share and enjoy together. That’s what we need.
Once we have a new hobby on the schedule, the weird erotic appeal of hot twinking will fade away into nothing.
The rose I cut off the other day is starting to droop. I replace the water and whip up a little homemade flower food to perk it up.
A little vinegar. A little sugar.
That’ll bring it back to life.
I pick up the vase and take it into the living room with me, giving it a new home before I curl up on the sofa with my phone and browse through local events.
Chapter 7
Joel
By the time I make it past the checkpoint, Big Prick is already pulsating with activity. We might be on the smaller side when it comes to personnel, but no slack is permitted among the ranks. Reveille is called right on time and never a second late.
The stars and stripes fly high right alongside the post’s colors.
I manage to make it to the command offices with a couple minutes to spare. With my thermos already empty from the drive over, I make use of the extra time by swinging to the break room and pouring myself a second cup of coffee.
I’m going to need the help to make it through the day. I’m too old to be pulling all-nighters.
“Good morning, Command Sergeant Major Flores,” one of my subordinate soldiers greets me when I get to my office.
“Shut the fuck up,” I grin, “haven't got that promotion yet.”
He grins right back at me. “It’s a near enough thing.”
“The usualsirwill do just fine for now.”
Too damn early in the morning for gossip. And too damn early to be bragging in public about a promotion that’s not mine. Not quite yet. I tell him to can it and we get on with the day. I dive into work, eager to be out of here by 1700 hours.
After today’s shitty start, I need to end it on a better note. Julian didn’t want to exchange anniversary presents this year. Fair enough. But it ain’t technically our anniversary anymore.
I’m already mentally running through a list of things I could pick up for him on my way home as I clear out my email and return a few phone calls.
Sometimes it’s still a little surreal that this is my life now.
No more sweating my balls off in the desert or getting my ass shot at. I’m safe and sound behind a desk with AC on full blast. I still deal with a lot of bullshit, but these days it’s bureaucratic bullshit instead of field bullshit.
Which tended to get quite literal on the shit front.
As one of the post's most senior non-commissioned officers, I'm the bridge between the enlisted soldiers and command. It's my job to be the human face beyond all the orders from up high. I enforce standards, oversee training, keep morale high, and when necessary, I dole out punishments.
When I rise in rank from sergeant major to command sergeant major, my job will be much the same, but there will be…more of it.
And with a fatter paycheck, of course.
As time ticks on, the day gets busier. And nosier. I pause in the middle of typing up a report when I hear shouting from the other side of the window. I step up to the glass to see what the commotion is about.
My office faces the barracks, and there's a whole line of enlisted men out for some late morning PT.
