Greg smirks as he settles onto the sofa and kicks off his shoes. Why is it when he sees a sign like that, he always thinks of bath houses and brothels? Now that he’s sitting down, he’s aware of one need the club house probably wouldn’t fulfill. The front of his khakis cut across his crotch with a sweet ache, reminding him of the slight erection that’s dogged him all morning. Damn Trey for doing this to him. He said he was sorry—what more could Junior want? He knows he was wrong the night before. If Trey doesn’t forgive him, that mistake will haunt him forever. How will he possibly get through the next few days, knowing what he might have had? And if Trey visits again? What then?
With a growl of frustration, Greg throws himself back against the sofa, one hand punching the cushion beside hi
