Hot Valley (23 page)

I left St. Albans by train and headed south to Montpelier, my original destination. I did not announce my arrival to my friend James or his family; they would have read of my disgrace in the newspapers, and I was not yet strong enough to see the disappointment in a friend's eyes. Let me regain some worth first, or die trying. Instead I walked straight from the station into the recruiting office and announced that I wanted to fight for my country.

The officer to whom I was handed over was a tall, shaven-headed man of perhaps 30, with tanned skin and the most piercing blue eyes I had ever seen. He sat behind his desk as I was shown into his office, and looked at me in silence for what must have been a minute. I wondered how much he knew about me, whether he recognized my name from the forms I had filled in, and whether he was about to upbraid me for my part in the St. Albans raid. I could not help noticing that he was handsome, with his finely shaped skull covered in the merest dusting of stubble, with his strong jaw and large, mocking mouth. His shoulders were broad, and he wore his uniform with the kind of casual grace to which Young, with his dandified airs, aspired. This man looked at home in his skin in a way that Young never could.

“Edgerton,” he said at last, in a tone of voice that confirmed all my worst suspicions.

“Yes, sir.”

I braced myself for the onslaught, but it never came.

“You are ready, then, to do your duty?”

“I am.”

“I wondered when we would be seeing you.”

“Sir?”

He did not explain himself. Perhaps Aaron Johnson had been right; more people than I dreamed of knew of my exploits. Well, I was over that now, over any pride or fear that I had about my “secret” life. As far as I was concerned, my life was over, and any secrets were public property. This officer, his fellow officers, and, for all I knew, every soldier in the Union Army had probably been laughing at my foolish
cock-crazed ways for months.

“Do you think you're able to fight, Mr. Edgerton?”

“Yes, sir. At least, I think I am able to die.”

“You're of no use to us dead, Edgerton.”

“No, sir.”

“So you'd better learn how to keep yourself alive. Think you can manage that?”

“I've never fired a gun, sir. I've never been any good at fighting. I'm not much of a man…” I could feel tears rising, my face flushing, and I thought it best to stop talking.

“Let's see if you can at least stand like a soldier,” he said, getting up from his desk and walking around me. “Come on. Straighten up. Shoulders back.” He placed a hand on each shoulder and pulled them into a more military position. “Stomach in.” He reached around, placed his hands on my belly, and pulled it toward my backbone. “Head up.” He put a hand under my chin and lifted it.

“That's a bit more like it,” he said, continuing his walk. “You could be a credit to the force, Edgerton.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Say yes, Captain Healey.”

“Yes, Captain Healey.”

“Good boy.”

He paced around to the front and perched on the edge of his desk. He was taller than me, but in this position he had to look up. His eyes were hypnotizing me, so cold, so blue.

“You've taken a few wrong turns in your life, Edgerton. Ain't you?”

“Yes, Captain Healey.”

“But we'll let bygones be bygones. The army is one big happy family and nobody is going to ask too many questions in the middle of a war. You understand? You can consider yourself forgiven.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“At least, as soon as you got those papers in your wallet that show you're Private John Edgerton of the First Vermont Medical Corps.”

Is that what he had in mind for me? Well, I was in no position to argue, although I had a sudden vision of severed limbs and burned faces, which almost made me faint. But I kept my chin up, my chest out.

“Think you can live with that, Edgerton?” Healey had obviously seen the look of disgust flitting across my face.

“Yes, sir. I'll do as I'm told.”

“You'll go where you're needed. I understand you're not stupid.” He flicked over a pile of papers that, I saw, formed some kind of record of my short and misspent life. “You've been to school. You have an aptitude for learning. You're not going to be much good to us in the front line, but you seem like the kind of boy who can take care of those who are doing the real work. Would you say that's a fair assessment?”

“I don't know, sir. I think I might be a coward.”

“That's the first intelligent thing you've said. A knowledge of weakness is the first step to strength.” He looked up at me with those piercing blue eyes—and I recognized that one of those moments had just passed between us in which we had reached a new plane of understanding. The “old” me would have said something such as “I'd like to see how strong you are, sir,” and licked my lips, knowing that within five minutes, maybe less, I'd be tasting the Captain's hard dick. Instead, I glanced up toward the ceiling, remembering the trouble that such behavior had already got me into.

Healey stood up and was suddenly businesslike.

“I think, given the circumstances, we can bypass the formalities. I have the information I need right here.” He patted the pile of papers—among which I saw the discharge notice from St. Albans prison. He consulted a list, running his fingers down the entries. “Yup, yup, that's all fine, mmm-hmm… Oh, well, I guess the only thing we really
need to do before we stick you in a uniform is the medical examination.”

I gulped. “Sir?”

“Don't worry. It won't take long. And you're in luck—I'm qualified to do it. And I've got nice warm hands.” He grinned.

Perhaps I had misread the situation; so long in a world without moral signposts had led me to some pretty foolish conclusions, and this might just be another one of them. But I could not ignore the fact that Captain Healey had a big, wolfish grin on his face as he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. His forearms were thick and tanned, and much hairier than his head.

“Open your mouth, Edgerton.” He angled my head toward the window and took a good look at my tongue, teeth, and throat. “Mmm-hmmm…a little wider. Thank you. That all looks nice and fresh.”

He ticked something off a list, then started feeling my neck. “Good, good. No swollen glands. Do you feel in good health, generally speaking?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you get much exercise?”

Most of my exercise had been on my back or on my knees, but I just said, “Yes.”

“Can you touch your toes?”

I bent over and placed the palms of my hands on the floor.

“Hmmm, good flexibility.” He ticked something else off, and I started to rise. “No, stay there. Let's just feel your spine while you're in that position.” He prodded and poked my vertebrae, seemed content, and made another note. “You may now stand up and remove your boots and socks.”

I wondered, briefly, if this was standard army procedure, but one look at Healey's face told me not to ask any foolish questions. I squatted and untied my bootlaces, bared my feet.

“Sit down.” He gestured to a wooden chair. “Gimme your foot.”

He sat once more on the edge of the desk and grabbed my ankle, pulling me toward him. My heel rested on his hard thigh, and he diligently inspected between each toe.

“You've not had a bath in a while, I guess.”

I was ashamed of the state of my feet, and it was true, it was some days since I was last able to wash as thoroughly as I would have liked.

“No matter. Nothing wrong down here.” He inspected the other foot, and seemed satisfied with that one as well, massaging it, flexing the toes with his fingers, turning the ankle, and cradling the heel. I was starting to relax as the familiar feelings reasserted themselves in my body. My good resolutions were slipping away, I could see that—but this was not my fault. I was only taking orders. If this was a necessary step to my redemption through military service, so be it.

“Now, strip.”

I was only taking orders… I pulled off my jacket and shirt.

“Hold it there.”

Captain Healey placed a hand over my chest, feeling my heartbeat.

“Hmmm…”

He took my hand, and felt for a pulse at my wrist.

“You're running fast.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you feverish?”

“No, sir.”

“Frightened?”

“No, sir.”

He dropped my hand. “Raise your arms above your head and hold them there.” He felt my armpits, which were slightly damp with sweat. “Good strong muscle tone, Jack.” He ran his hands down my sides, allowing them to rise and
fall over the ribs, until they rested on my waist. He was standing before me, and I could feel his breath on my throat. I dared not look up into his face.

“Drop your pants.”

I knew that if I did so, my erection would be even more obvious than it already was, and I was nervous about Healey's reaction. Had I misread the situation? Would he take this as some kind of unwanted advance and have me thrown back into prison? My hands hesitated at my belt.

“You heard what I said!” he shouted, straight in my face, a vein standing out on his forehead. “Drop your pants right now!”

I did as I was told. I was wearing underwear, but it was loose and stretched through much wearing and washing, and stuck straight out in front where it covered my hard prick.

“That's better,” Healey said, still standing so close that the tip of my cock almost brushed his pants. He didn't move. “You'd better learn to take orders, Edgerton. “Now lose the underpants.”

This time I did not hesitate, and I kicked the last remaining items of clothing away from me. I stood completely naked, and fully erect, in front of Captain Healey.

“Good boy. You're learning. Now, what's this?” He tapped the end of my dick with his pen, which got smeared with precum.

“That's my cock, sir.”

“It's your penis, Edgerton. You're going to have to learn the right names for things if you're going to be working for me. Your penis.” He gently took hold of it for emphasis. “And these are not your balls.” He moved his hand down and cupped me. “What are they?”

“My testicles, sir.”

“Well done.” He rolled them around in his fingers. “They feel healthy, Edgerton. When did you last ejaculate?”

“About four days ago, sir.”

“Four days? At your age I was shooting twice a day. You have a problem in that department?”

“No, sir. But I've been feeling very low.”

“You don't look low now, Edgerton. You look pretty… up in the air.” My cock was throbbing as he “examined” my balls, and a drop of sticky fluid gathered at the head. “You should try to empty them more regularly than that, Edgerton, it's not healthy to keep it all stored up. I always ensure that I ejaculate at least once a day.”

“Thank you, sir. I will, sir.”

“Now bend over the desk.”

“Sir?”

“I need to examine your anus.”

I leaned my elbows on the desk. Healey strode around to the rear.

“Not like that! You look like a schoolgirl at a church picnic!” His boot pushed my right foot to the right, my left foot to the left until they were a yard apart, and he pushed me forward. “That's better. Let the dog see the rabbit.”

It was a position to which I was well accustomed, as any reader who has bothered to travel this far with me will know all too well. I rested my head on my forearms and waited for whatever Healey wanted to do to me.

A hand (warm, as he had promised) was placed on either buttock, and they were pried apart to expose my hole. Despite the lack of bathing opportunities, I had been sure to keep my ass clean with cold water and rough paper. Despite my good resolutions, I was keeping myself “nice” just in case of—well, situations like this, I suppose.

Healey was taking his time examining my asshole, and I could hear that he was breathing rather more heavily than before. Well, if he wanted to look at it, I was happy enough to show it. I pushed it out a little bit.

“Good. That all seems to be…in order…” For the first
time he sounded less certain of himself. “Have you ever had any trouble with hemorrhoids?”

“Not as far as I'm aware, sir.”

“I'd better check. They're a big problem for so many of our soldiers.”

“Yes, sir.”

A finger started rubbing and poking my ass; I relaxed my muscles, as I knew well how to do, and it popped in to the first knuckle.

“Seems healthy… Let's see…” The finger delved deeper, and I pushed back against it. Even without a drop of lubrication, not even spit, I could take a good deal without pain. Healey's finger entered me to a depth of maybe two inches, and moved gently in and out.

“Good, all clean and clear,” he said, slipping the finger out; I let it go reluctantly. My hard cock was pressing against the edge of the desk, which pushed it back down between my legs; Captain Healey could see that I was even more turned on by his anal prodding.

“Of course, I really ought to check your…er…prostate gland,” he said, referring quite pointlessly to his paperwork. “Usually we use a piece of specialized equipment for that, called a proctoscope, a big metal dingus that goes up there and enables us to see if it's swollen or inflamed. But I don't have one here.”

“No, sir.”

“I can find out everything I need to know by feeling it, of course.”