Love Everlasting

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Love Everlasting

ISBN: 978-1-55487-988-5

Cover art by Martine Jardin

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y God, Chamberlain. What the hell was
that all about? What were you thinking?”

“Sir, I…”
“I don’t want to hear any excuses, Chamberlain. I

left this up to you, man. I trusted you.”

“Mr. Henderson, I can’t explain it. I did the

research.  I  bird-dogged  every  witness,  every  piece
of  evidence.  There  is  no  way  in  hell  that  I  could
have  missed  that  addendum  to  the  contract.  I’m
willing to swear it just wasn’t there.”

“Well, it was there, Chamberlain. Just ask the

opposing counsel. Just ask the judge. For that
matter, ask Ken Sexton.”

“Ken?” Suddenly my gut felt hollow. Ken Sexton

was  a  colleague.  He  and  I  had  been  vying  for  a
partnership  in  the  law  firm  for  over  five  years.  I
knew  he  was  driven,  but  it  would  never  have
occurred  to  me  that  he  would  go  so  far  as  to
withhold  evidence  to  undermine  my  position.
“What has Ken got to do with this?”

“He came to me just a few minutes ago. Right

after the judge made her decision.”

“If he knew something, why didn’t he come to

me?”

“He told me that he did talk to you, but you

“M

Derek Adams

weren’t interested in hearing him out. He said you
told him to mind his own business.”

“Why would I do that, Mr. Henderson? What

did I stand to gain?”

“I don’t have any more time to discuss this,

Chamberlain. As far as I’m concerned, the matter is
closed.”

“But…”
“It’s closed.” Mr. Henderson turned on his heel

and stalked out of the courthouse.

I walked around downtown for a couple of hours

after  my  confrontation  with  Mr.  Henderson.  I  was
physically and mentally exhausted, on the verge of
collapse.  I  couldn’t  sleep.  I  was  losing  weight.  My
concentration  was  totally  shot.  Consolidated  Mining
vs.  Winfield  had  dragged  through  the  courts  for
months  and  when  it  finally  came  to  judgment
earlier  today,  I  had  lost  on  a  technicality.  The
verdict devastated me because Mr. Henderson, the
firm’s  founder,  had  made  it  crystal  clear  at  the
outset that my future with the firm depended on a
favorable  outcome. He had  hinted  that  they  might
ask me to become a junior partner if the case went
our  way.  Based  on  his  demeanor  after  we  left  the
courtroom earlier this morning, I was convinced my
chances of advancement were now null and void.

When I returned to the office, Ken Sexton was

the first person I ran into as I stepped off the

Rich, this
is an
expression.
‘turned on
his/her heel
and walked
out. You
can’t
turn(or spin
around
abruptly) on
both heels.
Just try it.

Roger

The ‘was’ is
partly
stylistic –
the
reiteration
of ‘was in
the
preceding
sentences.
Also the
sentence
needs a
verb.
Otherwise,
My
concentratio
n totally
shot
what???????

Love Everlasting

elevator. “Why, Ken?”

“Why what?” A supercilious smile twitched at

the corners of his mouth.

I felt like punching him. “Why did you fuck me

over, that’s what.”

“Hey, man, I just did what you or anybody else

in my position would have done. I want that
promotion and you’re the only thing standing in
my way.” Oh well, at least the bastard was upfront
about it.

“How the hell did you even know about that

document my case crashed on?”

“You were careless.”
“Careless? What was I careless about?”
“Very simple, pal. One night we were both

working late. You went down the hall with a pile of
old documents from the archives and I just
happened to notice that you dropped a couple of
pieces of paper. All I did was pick them up.”

“You must have known the significance of that

information. How could you hold it back?”

“Like I said—I’m ambitious. I want that

partnership.  Julie’s  pregnant.  That’ll  be  number
three.  I  need  the  money  and  I  need  the  security.
Sorry,  old  buddy,  but  all’s  fair  when  it  comes  to
providing for my family. You’d have done the same
if you were in my place.”

“Actually, Ken, I wouldn’t.”
“Well then, pal, you won’t be getting that corner

Derek Adams

office either.” With that, Ken turned on his heel and
walked away.

It took all my self-restraint not to throw the

heaviest thing I could lay hands on at his stinking
head.

After a few days of getting the cold-shoulder

treatment from Henderson and the other partners, I
tendered  my  resignation.  I  figured  a  clean  break
was  simpler  and  healthier  than  a  long,  slow  slide
into  limbo.  After  I  had  cleaned  out  my  desk,  I  felt
better,  but  I  was  still  jumpy  and  strung-out.  I
definitely  needed  a  vacation  before  I  started  to
search for another position. The only trouble was I
didn’t  have  a  clue  as  to  where  I  wanted  to  go.  I
knew  I  wanted  total  peace  and  quiet,  but  wasn’t
sure how to find it.

I almost threw the information away without

reading  it.  It  arrived  in  the  mail,  tucked  in  the
middle of a stack of bills and Visa card applications.
The whole stack was on its way to the recycling bin
when  I  saw  the  postmark.  Destrehan,  Louisiana
didn’t exactly ring any bells, but I did recall that one
branch  of  my  father’s  family  was  from  some  little
town  not  far  from  New  Orleans.  I  picked  up  the
phone and dialed the familiar number. “Hey, Mom.
How are you?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart.”
“Listen, Mom, I was just sitting here, going

Love Everlasting

through my mail, when I came across something
from a place called Cypress Grove. It’s apparently an
old plantation near Destrehan, Louisiana that’s been
converted into a guesthouse. Dad’s people were
from around there, weren’t they?”

“Phil, what are you doing going through your

mail in the middle of the day? Why aren’t you at the
office solving crimes?”

“Mom, I’m a corporate lawyer, not a detective.”

She had always had a fuzzy concept of my
profession.

“Phil darling, you know what I mean. Shouldn’t

you be doing something about corporations then?”

“I’m taking some time off,” I offered vaguely. I

wasn’t quite up to telling her that I was currently
unemployed. “I was hoping to find out what you
know about Destrehan.”

“Where?” She could be maddeningly vague at

times.

“Mom, please, just tell me what you know about

Destrehan, Louisiana. I thought Dad had family
there.”

“I’m no expert on your father’s relations.” She

somehow  managed  to  load  thirty  years’  worth  of
marital  baggage  onto  the  word  father.  Mom  was
very  good.  “Of  course,  you  could  always  just  ask
him. Oh, silly me, I forgot. He moved to California
with that blonde bimbo with the fake bosoms who
might just be barely half his age and now he has an

Derek Adams

unlisted number. What was her name? Taffy?
Candy? Treacle?” Mom’s voice rose in pitch and
volume as she warmed to her topic. “You’re not in
contact with that man, are you, dear?”

“No, Mom, I haven’t talked to him.” I had not, in

fact, talked to him. I had taken Mom’s side during
the  extremely  bitter  divorce  proceedings  and  my
relationship  with  my  father  was  currently
nonexistent.

“I just don’t think I could cope if my children

turned against me.” This conversation was veering
rapidly toward very rocky ground.

“Mom, I just wondered if you could recall

anything about a place called Destrehan. I seem to
remember hearing the name connected to some
episode in our family history when I was younger.”

“I do not specialize in old family tales, dear.”

This coming from the woman who could recite the
intimate history of every neighbor who lived within
spitting distance of her was truly maddening.

“I’m not looking for a genealogy chart, Mom. I

just asked a simple question.”

“Are you taking a tone with me, young man?”
“Of course not, Mom. It’s just that I was thinking

of going there for a few days.”

“Surely not, dear. Louisiana is hot and bug-

ridden at this time of year. If we ever had any
relations in that part of the world, I’m sure they’ve
all either died or moved away. I was talking to your

Love Everlasting

sister Lila just yesterday and she said…”

I racked my brain while she chattered on about

my sister, but couldn’t make any headway
regarding the Louisiana connection—if, in fact,
there was one.

After I hung up the phone, I looked at the

contents  of  the  envelope  again.  It  wasn’t  exactly  a
brochure,  more  like  a  personal  letter  with  a  very
elegant  ink  drawing  of  a  beautiful  old  antebellum
house  above  the  letterhead.  The  text  read  like  an
invitation to a country home. Of course, given what
places like this charged, they could well afford to sit
down and crank out something a few cuts above the
standard  brochure.  I  was  assured  that  I  would
experience perfect peace and idle away my days in
languid bliss. It sounded exactly like what I needed
so  I  picked  up  the  phone  and  made  a  reservation.
The agency that  managed  the property was a little
short  on  details,  but  Lucinda  assured  me  in  a
honeyed  drawl  that  all  the  offerings  in  their
portfolio were strictly first class. The next morning I
took a taxi to the airport and caught a flight to New
Orleans.

By the time the plane landed, my stress levels

had  already  dropped  appreciably.  I  picked  up  my
luggage  and  ducked  into  the  men’s  room  at  the
airport  to  freshen  up  after  the  flight.  I  hardly
recognized myself. It was the first time in almost six

Rich, this
arbitrary
insertion of
commas in
the wrong
place is
beginning to
irritate me.
The sentence
should read:

Derek Adams

months  that  I hadn’t been encased in a  three-piece
suit.  The  stranger  dressed  in  casual  slacks  and  a
pale  green  silk  t-shirt who stared back at  me  from
the  mirror  as  I  washed  my  hands  hadn’t  even
shaved. I was pale and I had lost some of the hard-
won  definition  I’d  been  working  out  for  years  to
achieve,  but  a  quick  assessment  of  my  reflection
assured  me  that  all  wasn’t  lost.  I  still  had  decent
muscle tone, my belly was flat and my ass still did a
fine  job  filling  the  seat  of  my  pants.  I  flexed  and
winked  at  my  reflection.  The  man  who’d  been
standing next to me suddenly moved three sinks to
the  south.  I  grabbed  my  bag  and  walked  jauntily
out  of  the  bathroom,  viewing  my  resurgent  vanity
as  a  good  sign.  I  hadn’t  even  reached  my
destination and already I felt renewed.

The second I stepped out of the airport, keys to

the rental  car in  hand, I started to  sweat. The heat
here  was  a  physical  presence,  but  it  seemed  a
relatively benign one. Besides, it would force me to
remain  lazy  and  lethargic—it  definitely  wasn’t  a
climate  that  lent  itself  to  thoughts  of  jogging  or
heavy  exercise.  Believe  me,  I  seriously  looked
forward to total relaxation and indolence for a few
days.  If  I  got  bored,  then  maybe  I’d  drive  back  to
New  Orleans  for  a  little  fun  and  frolic  in  the
Quarter.

“You have a safe trip now, sir.”
The young man who checked my papers before I

Love Everlasting

drove out of the rental car lot was easy on the eye.
His  short-sleeved  shirt  bared  a  nice  expanse  of
muscled  arm.  Maybe  it  was  just  my  imagination,
but I had a feeling he had been checking out more
than  the  rental  agreement.  I  took  the  papers  from
him,  smiled,  then  drove  out  toward  the  freeway.
One  thing  was  for  certain—the  loss  of  my  job  had
pumped  new  life  into  my  libido.  I  was  horny  as
hell. Of course, I hadn’t had sex with anyone except
myself  for  months.  It  was  just  one  of  many  things
that definitely had to change in my life—the sooner
the better.

By the time I turned my rented BMW off the

narrow  two-lane  road  and  drove  through  the
elaborate  wrought  iron  gates  of  Cypress  Grove,  it
was mid-afternoon. I marveled at the beauty of the
scene  that  unfolded  as  I  drove  along.  Huge  live
oaks  draped  with  lacy  curtains  of  Spanish  moss
lined  the  graveled  drive.  Jasmine  grew  pale  and
waxy  beneath  the  trees,  scenting  the  air  with  its
heavy  perfume.  Emerald  lawns,  perfectly  clipped,
rolled  away  on  both  sides  as  far  as  the  eye  could
see.

When the house came into view, I stopped the

car  and  stared  in  amazement.  It  was  perfect—an
antebellum  mansion  of  extraordinary  grace  and
beauty that rose out of the shadowed landscape like
a  pristine  Greek  temple.  Tall  white  columns  stood
ghostly  sentinel  at  intervals  around  the  structure

Derek Adams

and  French  doors  opened  from  all  the  rooms  onto
the  wide,  shaded  veranda.  I  put  the  car  back  into
gear and continued up the long, tree-lined drive to
the front door.

I rounded a clump of shrubberies beside the

drive  and  instantly  hit  my  brakes  so  hard  the  car
skidded  sideways.  The  seatbelt  jerked  me  back
when  my  nose  was  about  half  an  inch  from  the
steering  wheel.  I  got  shakily  out  of  the  car  and
looked  to  the  right,  then  the  left.  Not  a  sound
beyond  the  chirping  of  birds  and  the  whirring  of
insects. Not a sign of anything, human or animal. I
walked all around the car and fearfully checked the
underbrush  and  the  shallow  ditches  that  ran
alongside the drive. Nothing.

But there had been something. I had seen a

man—tall,  dressed  in  gray,  a  wide-brimmed  hat
pulled  low,  shading  his  eyes.  He  hadn’t  been
wearing a suit—more like a uniform, but not one I
recognized.  Granted  I  had  seen  him  for  only  an
instant before my foot hit the brakes, but I had seen
him. I was sure of it.

I got back in the car and started the engine. After

carefully  checking  the  drive  for  as  far  ahead  as  I
could  see,  I  put  the  car  in  gear  and  drove  slowly
and  cautiously  up  to  the  house.  As  the  car  rolled
forward,  I  continued  to  sweep  the  area  on  either
side.  The  dappled  sun  that  poured  down  through
the  trees  illuminated  ferns  and  other  understory

Love Everlasting

plants,  but  revealed  nothing  human.  Maybe  I  had
only  imagined  the  figure  in  the  drive.  Maybe  I
needed  sleep.  And  maybe  the  events  of  the  past
week  had  taken  a bigger toll  than I  had imagined.
Whatever  the  case,  I  arrived  at  the  house  without
further incident.

No one rushed out to greet me, but considering I

hadn’t  been  able  to  tell  them  exactly  when  I’d
arrive,  I  wasn’t  surprised.  I  walked  slowly  up  the
broad,  shallow  steps,  crossed  the  wide  porch  and
knocked  on  the  big  double  door.  There  was  no
response. I tried the knob. The door was unlocked,
so I ventured into the cool, shaded hallway, which
appeared nearly dark to my sun-dazzled eyes. The
only  feature  that  clearly  emerged  from  the  gloom
was  a  wide,  spiral  staircase  that  rose  gracefully  to
the second floor.

“Hello. Anybody here?” Still no response. I

walked further in and the door closed behind me
with a dull thud.

“May I help you?” The voice came from behind

me, almost in my ear.

“Christ!” I dropped my suitcase and spun

around. My heart pounded against my ribs. My
nerves were obviously still more frayed than I cared
to admit.

“I did not intend to startle you. Are you all

right?”

“I…I’m perfectly fine.” I surveyed the man who

Derek Adams

stood in the shadows by the front door. Maybe I’d
expected to see a southern belle in a hoop skirt glide
out onto the veranda to greet me upon my arrival—
I don’t know. All I know for certain is that the man
in  front  of  me  was  definitely  not  the  welcoming
committee I’d anticipated. He was tall and slender,
his compactly muscled body honed to perfect pitch
by hard labor, or so it appeared to me, to judge by
his  mud-clotted  knee  boots  and  his  filthy  clothes.
His  dark,  curly,  unkempt  hair  almost  brushed  his
broad  shoulders.  His  eyes  flashed  a  tawny  gold
beneath  the  shadow  cast  by  his  jutting  brows.  His
sensual, ruddy lips contrasted startlingly with teeth
that  gleamed  in  the  shadowed  gloom  like  pearls.
His hands hung limp at his sides, but I could see the
corded muscles of his forearms and the thick veins
that bound them, wrist to elbow. I had no idea how
he’d  managed  to  get  right  behind  me  without
opening any doors, yet there he stood in a puddle of
dirty water that pooled around his feet.

“Welcome to Cypress Grove.” The man’s

honeyed baritone was sweet and lilting in its
southern cadences. “You’re Ambrose.” He breathed
a whole world of intimate meaning into the name.

“Pardon?”
“Ambrose.”
The repetition of the word sent a pleasurable

shiver up my spine.

“It is your name.”

Love Everlasting

“No.” His smile faltered. “I mean…well, I mean

yes. Ambrose is my middle name, but I don’t use it.
No one outside of my family even knows that
name. I don’t know…” I spluttered to a stop when
he held up his hand.

“You must have mentioned it when you

responded to my letter.”

“Your letter?”
He nodded.
“But  I  didn’t  exactly  respond  to  the  letter.  I

contacted an agency where I got driving
instructions to this place.”

“It is your name.” He wasn’t about to go off

message.

I was suddenly too tired to argue. Besides, it

wasn’t such a bad name. A bit old-fashioned, but so
what? “Yes.” When I acquiesced, his smile became
dazzling. “I’m Philip Ambrose Chamberlain, to be a
hundred percent accurate. I’m expected then?”

“Oh, yes, everything has been prepared for you. I

am  Etienne.”  He  made  a  courtly  bow  which  was
oddly at  variance with his ramshackle  appearance,
but which quite charmed me nonetheless.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Etienne. Look, I’m

tired out by my long drive and this incredible heat.
Do you think you could show me to my room so I
can rest up a bit?”

He gestured toward his boots and cocked his

head quizzically to one side. “You see?” He

Derek Adams

shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Oh, sure, I guess I can find my own way.”
“It is the room at the end of the hall, Ambrose. It

is just as it has always been.”

“What?” I picked up my suitcase and turned

back  to  Etienne.  He  was  gone.  A  shiver  flashed
along  my  spine  as  I  stared  at  the  corner  where  he
had  stood.  He  had  slipped  away  as  quietly  as  he
had come in, leaving me alone in the wide hall with
only a small puddle of water to indicate that he had
really  been  there.  I  must  admit  that  I  was  a  little
unnerved as I climbed the broad stairs to the second
floor.

I entered the designated room and closed the

door.  After  I  stripped  out  of  my  sticky  travelling
clothes, I sprawled out across the huge four-poster
bed.  Etienne  was  definitely  a  hunk,  I  thought  to
myself  as  I  ran  my  hands  up  and  down  over  my
sweat-slicked  torso.  He  had  an  unnerving  way  of
appearing and disappearing, but I definitely hoped
he’d pop up again soon. Hell, at this point I’d even
take him all muddy and wet.

Cypress Grove was the perfect retreat. A slight

breeze ruffled the gauzy curtains draped across the
windows,  then  swirled  lazily  across  to  me,  warm
and  soothing  against  my  bare  skin.  I  needed  to
shower,  but  first  I  closed  my  eyes—just  for  a
moment.

Love Everlasting

―Good evening, Ambrose.‖ The silver-haired

gentleman who greeted me at the door wore his dress

uniform. The insignia on his sleeve marked him a
Captain in the St. Charles Parish Cavalry. He shook my

hand warmly.

―Good evening, Captain Fontaine. I hope I’m not late,

sir.‖

―Not at all, son.‖ He lowered his voice

conspiratorially. ―Although there have been a number of

inquiries from various young ladies as to your
whereabouts.‖

―I would have been here sooner, sir, but there are

supply wagons strung out along the main road all the
way from Destrehan to here.‖

―Our boys are getting better at outrunning the

Yankee blockade, although I don’t know how much good

it will do, in the end.‖

―But, sir, I had thought that…‖ Captain Fontaine

raised his hand to silence me.

―Not tonight, Ambrose. We don’t want to spoil the

evening for the ladies. Or for ourselves, if it comes to
that.‖

―No, sir. I would not wish to do that.‖ I looked beyond

my host’s shoulder and into the dining room. The table
had been removed from the large room and the carpet

rolled back to reveal wide cypress boards that gleamed in

the light from dozens of candles. A group of five

musicians tuned their instruments in the far corner.
Young men in uniform and young ladies decked out in

their finest gowns stood chatting in small groups as they

Derek Adams

waited for the music to begin.

―I expect you want to visit with my scamp of a son for

a few minutes before you boys both throw yourselves to
the mercies of the ladies?‖ A glint of good humor had

returned to Captain Fontaine’s eyes.

―Yes, sir, I would like that very much. I found this

when I travelled through New Orleans. I want to share it

with him.‖ I pulled a bottle of whisky—real whisky, not

the moonshine colored with walnut shells that passed for

whisky these days—from a pocket in my uniform.
Captain Fontaine whistled appreciatively. ―Of course you

are welcome to a drink, sir.‖

―No, son, you boys will appreciate it much more than

I could. It would only serve to make an old man sleepy,

but it will bring life and color to your faces. Etienne

stepped out a few minutes ago. He didn’t say where he

was going.‖

―I think I know, sir. Thank you.‖ I tucked the liquor

back in my pocket and hurried across the lawn, down to

the river. I saw him silhouetted in the moonlight, leaning

against one of the pilings of the dock that jutted into the
slow-moving current, a cheroot in his right hand. I

stopped and stood, content just to look at him, to listen to

the faint exhalation of his breath, to smell the sweet smoke
that curled like a silver halo around his head. He was tall

and strong and noble, but my heart ached because I knew

how fragile his strength really was. I had seen hundreds

like him mowed down like summer grass.

―Ambrose.‖

―Etienne, how did you know I was here? I swear I was

The repeated
‘and’ is a
stylistic
choice. I
would prefer
to leave it
as written.

Love Everlasting

going to sneak up and scare the bejesus out of you.‖

―I always know when you’re here, Ambrose. My heart

beats faster and I find it difficult to breathe.‖ He stretched
a hand behind, but remained facing the river. I stepped

forward and grasped his hand. He pulled it around and

pressed it against his chest. I pressed my body against his
and rested my chin on his shoulder.

―I have a surprise for you, sir,‖ I said a few minutes

later.

―As pleasant as this is, I can’t say that I’m surprised.‖

He reached back and cupped my rapidly stiffening cock.

―Not that, Etienne.‖ I gasped, thrilled as always by

his touch. ―This.‖ I pulled the bottle from my pocket and
held it up for him.

―My God, man, is this real?‖

―Taste it and tell me.‖

―You first.‖
―But I brought it for you.‖

―I know that, but if your lips touch it first, even

swamp water would taste sweet to me.‖

―You are a shameless flatterer.‖
―Yes, I am.‖ He chuckled softly. ―You taste it first.‖ I

drank, then passed the bottle on to him. ―Ambrosia,‖ he

sighed. ―True food of the gods.‖

We passed the bottle back and forth in silence as we

watched the moonlight play on the eddying currents in

the river. Fireflies glimmered in the trees on the opposite

shore like tiny jewels. The liquor warmed my blood and
made my amorous thoughts even more intense. I slipped

my fingers through the buttons of Etienne’s uniform

Derek Adams

tunic and touched the skin of his hard, flat belly. He

pushed back against me and ground his buttocks against

my crotch. I breathed in the scent of him and brushed my
lips against his cheek. They came away wet.

―You’re crying.‖

―I’m not crying. It’s the damned smoke.‖ He tossed

the cheroot into the river. It arced sparks like a comet tail,

then hissed as it hit the muddy water. ―Hell, Ambrose, I

was shedding a tear.‖

―For what, Etienne?‖
―For all of this.‖ He swung his arm in a wide arc that

seemed to encompass our entire world. ―For my parents

and my sister. For us.‖

―Nothing is going to happen to us.‖ My grip became

fierce. ―I will not allow it.‖

―Everything is going to change. You know that. We

can’t win this. We shouldn’t win this if it means
perpetuating the whole rotten system. It will all change.‖

―My love will never change. I don’t give a damn about

any of the rest of it.‖ I turned him to face me. Our bodies

pressed together, belly to belly, cock to cock. ―You know I
love you.‖

―And I love you, Ambrose. I love you so much it hurts

me sometimes. I don’t know what I would do if anything
happened to tear us apart.‖

―Nothing will tear us apart.‖ I pressed my hand to his

heart, his hand to mine. ―We will always be together,

Etienne. I will love you until the end of time.‖

―Only that long, Ambrose.‖ He smiled at me and my

world was light.

Love Everlasting

―Longer, then, Etienne. I will love you until beyond

the end of time.‖

―That will do nicely, sir.‖ His lips brushed mine. I

could feel his manhood pressed hard against my own. The

kiss intensified as my tongue thrust against his tongue.

My breath was his breath, my heart and soul and life
were his and his alone.

―The music,‖ he whispered when we finally came up

for air. ―We should go.‖

―Wait.‖ The musicians had begun to play, a sweet

tune that floated through the windows of the big house

and down across the broad lawn. ―Dance with me,

Etienne.‖

―With you?‖

―I’ll be in that damned room all night, dancing with

everyone, except you, watching you dance with everyone,

except me. I want to dance with you, Etienne. Please.‖

―Of course I’ll dance with you, Ambrose.‖ One of his

arms slipped around my waist as his fingers twined with

mine. We swayed and shuffled our feet, both of us

fighting to lead until I gave in to him. I pressed my cheek
to his cheek, my chest to his chest. Our heartbeats were

synchronous, almost as though we were one entity, not

two. I looked into his eyes and knew that I would never be
happier than I was at that moment.

After much too short a time the tune ended and we

ambled, arm in arm, back to the big white house, back to

the young men and women, back to the world and back to
the endless futility of the war.

I was using
but with the
meaning
except. That
would not
require a
comma before
‘but’. I am
changing to
‘except’ –
grudgingly.

Derek Adams

The heavy curtains parted slowly and he stood there

before me, naked, head held high. During the months we

had been apart, I had forgotten somehow how beautiful he
was. His skin, pale in the moonlight, was smooth and cool

as marble. A thin line of dark, silky hairs split him in half,

running from the hollow of his throat down into the
dense cloud of his pubes. His nipples stood out thick and

hard from the squared planes of his broad chest. His

muscled back was reflected in the pier mirror mounted

between the two pairs of French doors at the foot of the
bed, wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. A dense

dark growth furred his long, well-formed legs, stopping

abruptly at the point where the globes of his delectable ass
began to swell out of the columns of his strong thighs.

His asscheeks were pale, dimpled, without flaw.

The flames of my lust rose in my belly as he stepped

across the bare cypress floor to the bedside. He stopped,
hands held out, offering himself to me. I closed my fingers

gently around the shaft of his rapidly stiffening cock and

pulled him toward me.

―Ambrose,‖ he whispered as he climbed into the bed

on top of me. He straddled my chest, the hair on his legs

tickling along my sides as he settled against me. The head

of his big cock brushed against my lips. My tongue
flickered lizard-like from between my teeth, barely

grazing the hooded knob. He sighed softly and his prick

twitched violently for a few moments before settling

heavily against my lips once again.

I took the silky foreskin gently between my teeth and

tugged it forward and away from the swollen, shiny

The word
cock has
been used to
refer to the
penis since
the 1600’s.

Love Everlasting

glans hidden inside. I slipped my tongue between the

sheath of skin and the sweet fruit it covered as I probed

and dug in the tight, hot space. I heard his gasped intake
of breath and felt his thighs tense against my sides as he

thrust forward and forced his way into my mouth. When

I dug my tongue into his gaping piss slit to search for the
first sweet drop of his honey, he squeezed his cock from

base to tip and drizzled sticky juice onto my greedy lips. I

licked them, then raised my head slightly, urging him to

probe my mouth.

He leaned forward, braced his hands against the

ornately carved headboard of the bed and tilted his pelvis

so he could more easily slide his stiff manhood deep into
my throat. I grabbed his balls and pulled them back

against his asshole. I pressed my palm hard against them.

He looked down at me, eyes heavy-lidded, and watched

my tongue as it flicked lazily at his swollen cockhead. I
pulled teasingly at the thin line of hair that bisected his

perfect torso. I rubbed the ball of my thumb against the

thick brown points of his tits and his muscles flexed. He

bucked his hips and jammed himself deep into my throat.
I bit down and raked my teeth along the shaft of his cock,

then traced the pulsing veins that coursed along his

throbbing length with the tip of my tongue.

I could have been content to lie there and suck him till

his thick, creamy life gushed down my hungry throat, but

Etienne would not have it so. He moved back, knelt

between my legs and scissored them apart roughly. He
bent his shaggy head and lapped at my sweaty crack. I

clenched my fists when he nipped at my asshole. He

Prick dates
from 1590.

Derek Adams

tugged the short hairs around the puckered flesh till I

groaned with pleasure and my prick snapped up tight

against my flat gut.

―It is good?‖ His voice was soft, his breath warm on

my balls. Etienne rubbed his spit around the spasming

ring of my sphincter, then pushed his long forefinger
tentatively into me.

―It is very good.‖ I pulled his head down to my chest.

―I want you.‖

He pressed his long thick prick against my bunghole,

then thrust forward with all his strength and jammed

deep into me. His long tongue snaked between my teeth,

abruptly cutting off my cry of ecstasy. He sealed his lips
against mine, then blew his breath into my lungs. A

wave of raw passion flowed through me that washed

away all conscious thought. I became his minion, at his

mercy with no will of my own. I wrapped my legs around
his narrow waist and opened my body to his frenzied

thrusts. I was overwhelmed with the sheer animal power

of the man as his pelvis ground hard against my aching

butt. His cum-heavy balls slapped against my tailbone,
his hands clamped hard against my shoulders, his fat

cockhead pounded my prostate. The intensity of it took

my breath and pushed me closer and closer to the point of
no return.

He rocked back on his haunches and pulled me up

with him, all the while driving his hard prick in and out

of my yielding body. He fixed me with his glittering eyes,
willing my obedience. Unable to speak, I nodded. He

smiled at me, his teeth gleaming. I felt his breath, hot

Bunghole
1600

Love Everlasting

against my neck, a moment of sharp pain, then a bliss

that transcended anything I’d ever known. My skin

began to tingle as our bodies pressed tight together. I felt
his heart pound against my chest, strong and steady. The

pulse became a roaring tide, deafening me, engulfing me.

―Yes, Ambrose, yes.‖ He moaned softly, his lips

against my ear. We were one now, our union perfect.

Our hearts pounded, his cock in my body, his strong

arms wrapped around me as his powerful thrusts carried

both of us beyond desire.

―Etienne.‖ He raised his head and looked at me, his

lips scarlet, his face and chest flushed, rosy, warm.

Scarlet ribbons fluttered down my shoulder across my
chest. My head was heavy, my eyelids drooped. My

world had contracted to the point where there was

nothing except his cock, pistoning in my guts. When he

dipped his head down between my legs and took me into
his mouth, I was finished. The touch of his lips brought

the jism boiling up from deep in my balls. The first jet

of my cream gushed into his mouth and brought his

own pumping to a climax. He stiffened and threw back
his head, calling my name as his hot spunk spouted into

me and filled me full of his hot, sticky life.

―Oh, Ambrose,‖ he cried, ―I’m coming. Hold me,

Ambrose. Until forever, Ambrose. Oh…‖

“…Ambrose. Are you there? Wake up.”
I swam slowly back to consciousness. I willed my

eyes to focus on the dusk-shadowed room around
me. I must have fallen asleep almost as soon as I

Once again,
this is a
stylistic
choice.
‘flushed,
rosy, warm’

Derek Adams

laid my head on the down-filled pillows. “I’m
here,” I called out groggily. “I fell asleep. Just give
me a minute or two to wake up.”

I lifted my head and pulled myself slowly up

against  the massive  headboard  of  the bed. When I
looked  down  and  saw  my  cock  curved  up  against
my belly, resting in the pungent white puddle, I had
to laugh. What a dream that had been! Put a man on
the brink of exhaustion in a strange bed, in a strange
place, stir in  a hot handyman or whatever the hell
Etienne  was  and  stand  back!  I  hadn’t  had  a  wet
dream  in  ages,  but  there  was  the  evidence,  strung
out  like  liquid  ropes  against  my  chest  and  belly,
mingled  with  the  sweat  that  sheened  my  body.
Evidently, Etienne had gotten under  my skin  even
more  than  I  had  realized.  It  must  have  been  his
rough-and-tumble look as he stood there all muddy
and  wet  from  his  work.  That,  coupled  with  the
warm  intimacy  of  his  eyes  and  his  deep,  resonant
voice. That, and some…

“Your dinner will be ready soon, Ambrose. I

didn’t want you to miss the appointed hour.”

“Thanks, Etienne,” I called out. “Don’t worry, I

promise not to miss dinner.”

“Your bath is ready, Ambrose.”
“My bath?” I sat up in bed and looked around.

There was an antique tin bathtub in front of the
fireplace. It had most definitely not been there when
I first entered the room. I got up and walked around

Again,
please leave
the
punctuation
as written.
There is a
reason for
it. No comma
after ‘look’
keep the
commas after
‘That,’

Thank you, R

Love Everlasting

the  tub.  It  was  full  of  water.  Warm  water.  The
candles  on  the  mantel  burned  brightly,  dispelling
the  gathering  gloom.  I  rushed  to  the  door  of  the
room,  locked.  Then  I  remembered  that  the  French
doors to the wide porch that ran around the second
floor of the house all stood wide open.

So he had come into my room while I slept and

brought the tub. But how could I have failed to hear
him?  I  was  generally  a  light  sleeper.  Besides,  he
obviously  had  to  make  multiple  trips  to  fill  the
damned  thing  with  water.  Where  the  hell  was  the
bathroom? I scanned the area, but the only door led
directly into the hall. A quick reconnaissance failed
to turn up a single bathroom on the upper floor.

I returned to my bedroom and noticed for the

first  time  a  folding  screen  in  the  corner.  “Not
possible,” I muttered to myself as I pulled it aside.
A  chair  with  a  wicker  seat  stood  in  the  corner.  I
examined it cautiously. I saw  the  hinges and  lifted
the  seat.  A  white  porcelain  basin  gleamed  in  the
fading light. I was definitely going to have a serious
conversation with the woman who had booked me
into this place when I got back to New Orleans.

I walked back to the tin tub. Hell, I had crusted

jizz on my belly and I reeked of sweat from my
journey. I stepped into the water. The temperature
was perfect. I settled in and watched the shadows
lengthen on the lawn.

Derek Adams

I started down the stairs just as the grandfather’s

clock on the landing chimed eight. There was a faint
light  coming from the dining room, but  the rest of
the house was cloaked in impenetrable gloom. The
long mahogany table was elaborately  set for  one. I
appeared  to  be  Cypress  Grove’s  only  guest.
Covered dishes were set out on a heavy sideboard
between  two  of  the  French  doors  that  opened  at
regular  intervals  around  the  room.  Beyond  the
veranda,  the  lawns  stretched  out,  flat  and  pale  in
the moonlight.

There were three bottles of wine ranged beside

the  single  place  set  for  dinner.  All  were  heavily
encrusted  with  dust  and  cobwebs.  Bad  marks  for
housekeeping,  I  thought  wryly  as  I  reached  for  the
nearest  of  the  bottles.  I  wiped  the  neck  carefully,
then  poured  some  into  the  first  glass  that  came  to
hand.  It  was  rich  and  full,  blood-colored,  the
bouquet  so  heady  and  complex  that  it  must  have
been  developing  for  a  very  long  time.  I  filled  my
glass  and  drank  it  down  in  two  long  swallows.  It
warmed  my  throat  and  tingled  in  my  belly  like  a
subtle fire.

I started to get up to fill my plate, but decided

instead  to  have  another  glass  of  the  wine.  It,  too,
went down easily. I began to feel the effects of the
alcohol.  The  humid  night  air  in  combination  with
the heat generated by the wine made my skin burn
beneath  my  clothes.  As  I  poured  a  third  glass,  a

The house
didn’t
‘appear’
cloaked. It
‘was’
cloaked.
Leave as
written.

‘ranged’
means
‘arranged in
a row,
usually a
passive
construction
. Please
leave as
written.

Please leave
the ‘were’-
otherwise
the sentence
makes no
sense.

Love Everlasting

blood-red gush of wine sloshed over the rim of the
heavy crystal goblet and trailed across the white
linen.

When I reached for my napkin to soak up the

mess, a jagged  streak  of lightning flashed white in
the  distance.  In  that  instant  of  illumination,  when
the  night turned to livid day, I saw him. At least I
thought  I  saw  him.  It  was  Etienne,  of  course—the
man  who  had  already  invaded  my  dream  to  such
startling  effect  earlier  in  the  evening—although
what  he  was  doing  naked  on  the  lawn  I  couldn’t
quite imagine. I walked out onto the verandah and
stared out into the darkness. I saw nothing.

I returned to my seat and started to sop up the

wine, an effort that ended in disaster. I accidentally
clipped the bottle with my elbow and tipped it over.
It eluded me as it rolled unchecked along the center
of  the  long  table,  spreading  a  dark  stain  like  a
swollen river on a flood plain.  I jumped up  out  of
my chair,  then suddenly realized  that I was dizzy.
As  I  struggled  to  regain  my  balance,  the  lightning
flashed again. He was there! I was certain that I had
seen him this time.

A sudden gust of wind caused the curtains to

billow like white sails and extinguished the candles
on the table. The rumble of thunder obscured my
cry of alarm. I shook myself. God, I was coming
unhinged! The wine, my steamy dream, the sight of
Etienne naked on the lawn, all combined to fill me

Again, no
comma needed
between
‘urgency’
and ‘which’
or between
‘rod’ and
‘which’

Derek Adams

with  a  tingling  sense  of  urgency  which  I  could
neither  define  nor  ignore.  When  I  crossed
unsteadily to the French doors, the curtains sprang
to  life  again,  wrapping  me  in  their  silken  folds.
Panicked,  I  thrust  out  my  arms  and  tried  to  push
them aside.

In pulling free of the draperies, I wrenched the

heavy  brass  rod  which  held  them  away  from  the
wall.  It  crashed  noisily  against  the  mahogany
sideboard and sent a tray of decanters to a sudden
and  violent  end.  I  stumbled  out  onto  the  broad
veranda.  As  my  eyes  struggled  to  adjust  to  the
velvet  gloom  of  the  warm  Louisiana  night,  the
lightning flashed again, closer now, and again I saw
him. He looked directly at me, hands outstretched,
his  big  prick  curved  mightily  up  against  his
washboard gut. His balls dangled heavily, swaying
back  and  forth  between  his  thighs  as  he  moved
toward me.

“Ambrose,” he called, his voice uncertain,

supplicating. “Come with me, Ambrose. It’s so
lonely here. Please come.”

“Etienne?” I was unsure of what was happening,

only aware of the weirdness and sensuality of it all.
For one fleeting moment, I hesitated. His dark eyes
flashed, skewered me, took away any thought of
flight. I was so horny I could hardly breathe. I had
been ever since I woke up from my nap. My wet
dream had only served to make me more ravenous

Once again,
‘closer now’
is
parenthetica
l and should
be set off
by commas –
at least in
my book.

Love Everlasting

for sex, for the touch of Etienne’s hands against my
skin.

I tore at my clothes as I stumbled across the

grass,  kicking  off  my  shoes,  almost  falling  as  I
fought my way free of my trousers. I tore my shirt
open  and  threw  it  aside  as  I  reached  the  place
where  he  stood  and  waited  for  me.  I  stood  before
him,  trembling  and  naked.  His  touch  was  like
electricity on my skin. He stroked slowly down my
neck,  over  my  broad  chest,  pinching  my  nipples
hard between his fingers, drawing me closer, till our
cocks  crossed  like  two  silk-sheathed  swords.  His
long cock rubbed up against my belly and left a thin
trail of glistening slime in its wake.

Our bodies pressed together from belly to knee,

my flesh  hot, fevered, his cool  and  soothing  to the
touch. I clasped  his narrow waist as  we  continued
to  grind  against  each  other,  prick  mashed  against
prick,  pubic  bushes—black  and  golden—tangled
inextricably  together.  Finally,  he  released  his  grip
on my tits, only to lower his head to my chest and
continue his ecstatic torture of the tender flesh with
his teeth. His big hands grasped my butt and forced
the  muscular  cheeks  wide  apart.  He  probed  my
crack  with  his  long,  thick  fingers.  I  clasped  my
hands around the strong column of his neck, lifted
my legs and wrapped them around his waist.

The lightning flashed again, then the heavens

opened. The warm rain poured over us in torrents,

Derek Adams

totally  obscuring  the  big  house  behind  us  from
view.  It  plastered  our  hair  flat  against  our  skulls
and  cooled  my  fevered  body.  Etienne  pressed  his
lips  to  mine,  his  long  tongue  tickling  against  the
roof  of  my  mouth.  I  bit  down  gently  and  savored
the taste and texture of him. He probed my ass hole,
his  strong  fingers  slipping  deep  into  the  yielding
channel.

“Fuck me, Etienne,” I moaned. “I want your cock

in me. I want to feel the heat of your cum pumping
into my body again. Fuck me.”

He turned then and carried me across the

manicured lawn, into the deeper gloom beneath the
moss-hung oaks. I clung to him, his muscle-knotted
torso shifting against me as he walked quickly and
surely over the uneven ground.

Then he stopped and knelt, still holding me in

his strong embrace. The lightning flashed around us
and  revealed  his  chiseled  features.  His  eyes
flickered  with  golden  fire.  “I’ve  waited  for  you,
Ambrose.  I’ve  waited  for  you.”  His  honeyed
baritone was thick with lust.

“Oh, yes,” I replied, held in thrall by his

incredible  sensuality.  “I  want  you,  Etienne.  Now!”
He pushed me back, not onto the ground, but onto
something else, something hard, flat and smooth to
the  touch.  He  knelt  between  my  outstretched  legs
and lifted them till the crook of my knees rested on
his  broad  shoulders.  Then  he  fell  forward  and

Love Everlasting

impaled me. His cock filled me, stretching my guts
to the sweet point of pain. In that instant, we really
became one body, one flesh, melded together into
one perfect and complete being.

His balls slapped wetly against my back as the

rain continued to fall in torrents over us. It streamed
in rivulets across his shoulders and down his wide
chest  where  it  channeled  between  the  swell  of  his
pecs, along  the  thin line  of hair bisecting his  torso,
then  down  to  his  crotch.  From  there  it  flowed
between  my  legs  and  into  my  pubes,  plastering
them flat around the base of my swollen, bouncing
prick.

As the lightning flashed feverishly and the

thunder  rumbled  and  crashed  in  a  steady
crescendo,  Etienne  reamed  my  throbbing  hole,
pounding me to ecstasy. Then he lowered his head
and  pressed  his  mouth  against  the  swell  of  my
chest. There was a pricking sensation, then the heat
gushed  out  of  me.  My  heart  began  to  slow,
pumping now in rhythm with his pistoning prick. I
felt my limbs grow heavy, my fingers go numb till I
could no longer feel the strong arms I struggled to
grasp.  I  watched  the  top  of  his  sleek  head  and  his
broad, rain-slicked shoulders as they began to fade
to silence.

“Etienne!” I groaned, my lips barely moving. He

raised his head, his gaze unfocused like a man
drunk on too much wine. He saw me, shook

Derek Adams

himself,  pulled  me  up  against  him.  I  watched  his
finger slash across the heavy curve of his right pec,
just  above  the  nipple.  A  tiny  mouth  gaped  in  the
perfect  skin  and  spouted  warm,  dark  wine.  He
pressed my mouth tight against it and I felt the heat
begin to flow back into my body like pale fire.

“Suck,” he groaned. “Suck me, Ambrose. I’ve

waited for you. I’ve waited. Suck, my love. Suck.” I
began  to  tremble  as  my  strength  returned,  heat
coursing  through  my  veins,  my  cock  harder  and
more  sensitive  than  it  had  ever  been  before  this
moment.  Etienne  fucked  like  a  man  possessed.  As
my  orgasm  approached,  the  muscles  in  my  groin
tensed. My cock hovered above my belly, straining
and flexing as jism got ready to explode across my
rain-washed torso. I heard a faint groan from deep
in  Etienne’s  chest  as  his  prickhead  swelled
perceptibly against my aching prostate.

Just as Etienne pushed me beyond the precipice

and I gave myself over to the first intense rushes of
orgasm,  a  burst  of  lightning  directly  overhead
brought the whole scene into sharp focus. A marble
monument  rose  behind  Etienne,  eerie  in  the
blinding  flash  of  light.  The  words  engraved  in  the
silvered  marble  remained  etched  on  my  eyelids,
even  after  the  aching  intensity  of  my  feelings  had
rolled my eyes back into my skull.

Erected To The Sacred Memory

Delete comma
please

Love Everlasting

Etienne Henri Fontaine

1837-1865

By His Beloved Ambrose.

I Will Wait Alone For You, My Love,

Until Beyond The End Of Time

“I’m coming!” My body spasmed with intense

pleasure. My cock flexed and a blast of jism jetted
out of me, shot up over my head and splattered on
the slab of marble that loomed above us. I no longer
knew whether I was in this world or the next—and
I no longer cared. We were together now. That was
all that mattered.

Etienne cried out his ecstasy along with me. I

gripped his biceps and held on fiercely as his hot
life flooded back into my body. A final spasm shook
me and I sank into the void.

“Ambrose?” I fought my way back to

consciousness. “Ambrose!”

“Yes, my love?” I opened my eyes. He was so

beautiful.

“I waited, Ambrose. I waited for you.”
“Yes, my love.” His teeth were pearls.
“We’re together now, Ambrose.”
“Yes, my love.” His skin was translucent,

alabaster.

“Forever, Ambrose. Until beyond the end of

time.”

About the Author

Derek  Adams  is  the  author  of  a  popular  series  of
detective  novels  featuring  the  intrepid  Miles
Diamond,  as  well  as  over  a  hundred  short  stories
which,  he  insists,  are  ongoing  chapters  in  his
autobiography.  Mr.  Adams  currently  lives  in
Seattle.