disclaimers in previous chapters

Gil lay on his sofa in his townhouse. The sounds of Robert Plant filled the room. Four hours ago he'd left her at the hospital with Philip and Louise. Four hours ago he broke the promise he had made to her. Feelings of guilt plagued him but not because he had broken that promise. He felt guilty because he no longer gave a damn about the promise.

Catherine had made it perfectly clear what she thought of him. Lifeless, unfeeling and distant. Not worthy of the loving touch of any woman. She had humiliated him. Touching him, bringing him to the brink only to cut him to the core. He had trusted her, lowered his walls, let her into his life in a way that he had never let anyone in before. The bond of friendship and trust they had built over the passing of two decades had been shattered in mere minutes by her hatred of him.

He rose from the sofa, unable to find a comfortable position. There was a bottle of scotch in the kitchen with his name on it that would help to calm his nerves. He poured himself a shot and swallowed it quickly. The hot amber liquid burning his inside as it flowed quickly from his mouth to his stomach. The first shot was quickly followed by a second shot but no calmness followed. No numbing of the emotions as alcohol usually does. He put the scotch away, deciding instead to try a hot shower to see if that would relieve his severed nerves.

He turned the hot water tap to full, opting to leave the cold tap off. He quickly shed his clothing as steam began to fill the bathroom. Slowly he stepped into the scalding shower allowing the hot pulsating jets of water to wash away the dirt and grim of the desert, hoping the heat would ease the turmoil inside his body. He stood motionless for what seemed like an eternity, his eyes closed and his head lowered.

The water had already begun to cool when he finally reached for his shampoo. He placed a small dollop in his hand and began to massage it through his scalp and beard, closing his eyes again as his fingers quickly worked through his hair. He washed his face, neck and ears thoroughly with the remaining suds before bending his head back to allow the water to wash all of it away.

He tucked his head back into the water, running his hand over and around his ear washing away the shampoo he had missed moments ago. He picked up the soap, lathering up before he began washing his chest. The sand was embedded in his skin. He scrubbed vigorously to remove all of it. He returned to washing his body, scrubbing his torso, back and legs. He then proceeded to wash his member.

His body, still reeling from Catherine's touch, eagerly responded, desperate to achieve the completion it had been denied not long ago. Overtaken with frustration his hand moved quickly. Gil just wanted it to be over. There was no pleasure in this for him. He stroked harder and faster, willing himself to come but his body wouldn't cooperate. He was at the brink again but his body refused to go any further. He stroked harder and faster but still couldn't come. The more he stroked the further he felt from his release. It was a furious battle with his body. Pain suddenly pulsated through his member as if he had been burned by the water. He jumped out of the shower, quickly drying off. He reached into the medicine chest above his sink, pulling out a tube of Cortaid. He quickly examined his penis and found nothing that would explain the pain and itching. He applied the salve to his now-flaccid member. After dressing he crawled into his bed for a fitful night's sleep.