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“But—”
“Neither is Sioux Falls.”
“Let it go, babe,” Shooter said quietly.
The game wrapped up at just after midnight. Caleb took his modest winnings and stuffed them into the pocket of his leather jacket.
“Don’t spend it all in one place,” Tex told him with a wink.
Caleb shrugged it off. Sometimes he wondered about the cowboy and his ability to read people. Tex had certainly made the most of his psychology degree. Outside, the air had turned chilly and Caleb zipped up his jacket to guard against the cold. Hawk helped Tildy into the front seat of the truck and Caleb let them take off first down the winding road that led to the highway below. After the sun set, it was chilly in the fall this far northeast, but it was the same in Caleb’s native California. Rapid City had its wind while Stockton had the fog that settled during the winter and never seemed to leave. Even with South Dakota’s harsh winters, Caleb didn’t miss California or anyone in it.
He gunned the Harley and headed for home, which was a tidy one-story house on the east end of town. Caleb rented it from an elderly couple. Tex would say it was a testament to Caleb’s insistence on impermanence. Caleb just wrote it off as a practicality. Why did he need to own a house? To whom would he leave it when he died? He owned his Harley and his Ford pickup and he didn’t need anything else.
He stopped at the curb and opened the mailbox. He tucked the mail under his arm and pulled the bike into the small garage and lowered the door. Entering his house through the kitchen, he tossed his keys onto the counter along with the stack of mail that he didn’t bother to look at. He swept the stark, white envelope that lay on top immediately into the trash, closing the lid on the harsh, black lettering that read: Folsom State Prison. Nope. There was nothing in California that he gave a single fuck about.
The next afternoon he mowed the lawn, probably for the last time that season, and put the mower away in the corner of the garage. After he showered, he picked up his cell phone. Busy tonight? he typed and waited for a reply, which never took long. Never too busy for you. See you at 9?
Caleb confirmed and slid the phone into his pocket. He’d have to leave now to make it on time. He chose the Ford over the Harley, though it pained him to do so. He’d never ridden a motorcycle before the Army, but now he could honestly say he couldn’t imagine his life without one. The feel and the freedom of the road were addictive. Winter always came too soon. He swung up into the cab of the Ford and fired up the engine. Sioux Falls was just under four hours away.
It was a working class town, same as Rapid City, but more than double the size. Sioux Falls was closer to Stockton in size and in some ways Caleb preferred it. Or at least its anonymity. He could come and go as he pleased, pun intended, he supposed, and no one registered his presence. He wound his way through the downtown area and turned north to a neighborhood that was much like his own. Small, one-story houses lined the street with well-kept lawns and mid-sized SUVs. No one owned a Lexus here, but neither were there junkers on blocks. Caleb turned into the driveway of the last house on the street and killed the engine. The porch light was on.
He barely knocked when the door swung open. Five feet of curves and blonde hair found their way into his arms. “Hey!” she said giddily and he pushed her inside, closing the door behind him. He knew where the bedroom was and wasted no time in getting them there. She was already in a bathrobe, hair dry but freshly washed. Caleb stripped out of his jeans and T-shirt as she crawled on the bed.
As he moved over her, she playfully grabbed at his hips and tried in vain to bring him closer. She licked her lips seductively. He smiled but ignored it; he never asked her to do that. Instead, he slid the condom on and then slid inside her. She was ready for him, as usual. He buried his face between her neck and shoulder and rocked into her slowly. She groaned and wrapped her legs around him.
Caleb rarely took matters into his own hands at home. He got it regularly, if not sparingly here, and never saw a need. But his years of discipline both in the Army and after had proved useful. He never, ever came until she did. He not only felt the typical male sense of pride in a job well done when she creamed on his cock, but he also figured it was the least he could do for her. It only took a few minutes of thrusting before he felt her pussy begin to squeeze his shaft. She came in a rush, and Caleb soon after. When the high wore off, he slid off the bed and tossed the condom into the nearby trash, which was always empty every time he visited. She sprawled over the bed, looking dreamily up at him and he didn’t think that part was ever fake or forced. She seemed to genuinely enjoy his visits, as much as she probably could, anyway.
