Previously
Caine’s personal trainer, Jason, gives Josh a tour of the workout facility and joins them for their weekly dinner.
When dinner ended, Caine rose first. “We’ll continue this conversation,” he said, resting a hand briefly at the small of Josh’s back. “I think you understand everything that’s been said tonight and that you’ll live up to my, and Jason’s….expectations.”
Jason’s gaze lingered as Josh gathered his coat. “The gym has a way of revealing things.”
Josh stepped out into the night buzzing with possibility—keenly aware of what had transpired. Josh’s mentorship wasn’t limited to the office or even personal development. It now included rigorous physical training in and out of the pool, plus a deeper, yet undefined, relationship with Caine. And it appeared the mysterious Jason, who seemed every bit as Alpha as Caine, would play a role.
Chapter 4
By the third month at Stone & Ash, routine had become ritual.
Monday, Wednesday, Friday—5:00 a.m. sharp—the gym. No excuses. No variance. The Club’s lower level still smelled faintly of rubber and eucalyptus, the lights just beginning to warm, the city outside still half-asleep. Josh learned quickly that punctuality mattered here because Caine noticed when he was early.
Jason was there more often than not. Sometimes he trained them together. Sometimes he observed in silence, arms crossed, making notes on a tablet that Josh never saw but always felt. The workouts were brutal and exacting. There was no wasted movement, no praise given casually. When correction came, it was concise. When approval came, it was quieter still.
Josh thrived on it.
The first Monday they met began with metrics.
Jason instructed them to meet him in the locker room. No preamble. No explanation. When Josh realized what was required—standing nude on a machine that resembled a high-tech scale, posture neutral, eyes forward—his pulse spiked. It wasn’t modesty that made him uncomfortable; it was awareness. This was the first time he would see Caine without layers, without workout clothes, without a speedo. All of Caine.
Caine undressed without ceremony, as if he were loosening a tie. His body was exactly what Josh expected and still somehow more: disciplined, balanced, unmistakably earned. Every muscle sculpted, every vein displayed like a badge of honor.
Jason called out numbers without inflection. Caine’s body fat had barely shifted. Still 11%. Elite. Caine’s chiseled body gave Josh something to admire and something to shoot for.
Josh stepped forward next.
He felt Jason’s hands at his sides, professional, impersonal—but Jason’s words were not. “14.2%” he said. “That’s going to come down” he ordered.
There was no judgment in it. Just fact. Josh cringed, as his body was still athletic and fit. But it showed how far he was from perfection. Perfection that Caine demanded.
Later, as they dressed, Jason caught Josh alone by the sinks. “This matters to him,” he said quietly. He didn’t need to specify who. “He expects the men around him to reflect his standards. You’ll be a reflection of him when you’re by his side”
The observation caught Josh off guard. A reflection of him when you’re by his side. The weight of those words, the promise it implied, carried Josh through the grueling months ahead.
To no one’s surprise, the work intensified after that.
By the end of the fourth month, Josh was keeping pace. By the fifth, he was pushing back, meeting Caine rep for rep, set for set. Jason began pairing them deliberately, structuring lifts so they had to rely on each other’s timing, breath, attention. More than once, Caine’s hand landed at Josh’s back to steady him, firm and brief. More than once, Josh felt the absence of that hand long after it lifted.
Surprisingly, the gym was full at that hour of the day. The other pairs of men, men he’d seen at the Club, were as focused on fitness as Caine and Josh. And their workout gear left nothing to the imagination. Was it because there were no women that would see them anyway? Or was it something else? As Josh’s body fat melted away and his sculpted muscles re-emerged, under the disguise of humor Caine encouraged Josh to dress more like them. “Damn, boy, your legs are like tree trunks. You need to show them off…make me proud.” Once, grabbing his shoulder, “You need to wear stringers to show these twinks here a real man.” Caine’s attention, like so many other things, went straight to Josh’s groin. He’d love nothing more than to wear sexy tank tops and 2” shorts, but what would that say about him? His intentions? Was Craine giving him permission to?
Saturday was swimming.
It became their unspoken favorite day.
Sometimes they swam indoors, the air close and echoing. Other times—when schedules aligned and the weather cooperated—they used the outdoor pool, sunlight glinting off water and skin alike. The first time Josh saw Caine in his suit, memory rose unbidden. Control. Authority. Precision. The way water responded to a body that knew exactly how to move through it.
Caine noticed Josh’s growing confidence and commented on it.
“You’ve improved,” he said, adjusting his goggles. “Your form is cleaner.”
“Because I stopped fighting the water,” Josh replied.
Caine’s mouth curved. “That, and your body is back in fighting shape. You’ve come a long way”, he added, making Josh actually blush.
They trained hard. They raced sometimes. And occasionally Caine would position them in front of the mirrored wall near the pool deck and wordlessly assess the image in the mirror. The perfect male bodies spoke for themselves.
“Look at that,” he said once, “That’s what consistency produces.”
Josh felt seen in a way that went far beyond aesthetics. He was proud beyond words, but he was also a horny 27-year-old. He took a mental snapshot of the two of them dripping wet in their speedos and used the image to jerk off to countless times.
Their professional lives mirrored the same trajectory.
Monday morning strategy sessions became essential rather than procedural. Josh anticipated needs before they were voiced. He drafted arguments that surprised senior associates. Caine stopped correcting his language and started refining his instincts instead.
By month six Josh was spending more time at the Club than at his own apartment.
The logistics had forced the issue. Early workouts, late dinners, suit changes, swim gear—it had become inefficient to shuttle back and forth. Caine solved it with characteristic economy.
“Keep some things here,” he said one evening, almost as an afterthought. “You’ll be more comfortable.”
The room he offered was simple. Clean. Deliberate. An ensuite bath. Closet space cleared without comment. It felt less like a guest room and more like an acknowledgment.
From then on, their days braided together seamlessly.
Josh began to notice patterns in the Club he hadn’t before.
The same pairings. The same dynamics. Always a senior partner around Caine’s age and a younger one, closer in age to Josh. Always training, instructing, guiding. The touches were minimal but intentional. The deference subtle but unmistakable. It wasn’t secrecy that defined these relationships—it was devotion, with a noticeable dash of discretion.
One evening, Josh came out and asked him about it, “Why so many pairs of men, like us?”
Caine considered him for a long moment before answering. “Men here value structure,” he said finally. “They find clarity in it. Many need it. All of them welcome it.”
Not satisfied he pressed on, “They almost look like couples.”
Caine’s gaze held steady. “We’ll talk about that when the time is right.”
Josh didn’t ask again.
What he did instead was lean in.
He learned Caine’s rhythms. His silences. The difference between disappointment and expectation. He found pleasure, not just satisfaction, but pleasure, in meeting those expectations precisely. In anticipating them. In exceeding them.
Affection followed naturally, almost dangerously so.
Not in gestures that could be named, but in reliance. In trust. In the way Caine’s standards became Josh’s compass. In the way Josh’s presence became assumed. He made the coffee, often cooked meals, took immense pleasure in making Caine comfortable.
Still, something remained unspoken.
The air between them grew denser with each passing week, charged with what neither man allowed himself to initiate. It lived in glances held a second too long. In instructions delivered softly, almost intimately. In the knowledge, shared but unacknowledged, that this was more than simply mentorship.
Josh felt it most acutely in moments of stillness.
Standing beside Caine at the pool. Waiting for feedback. Sitting across from him at Thursday dinners, wine untouched as conversation drifted toward expectation, discipline, responsibility. He hungered for Caine’s approval, for his support, for his recognition. Just hearing Caine say his name sent chills up his spine. They say familiarity breeds contempt. For Josh, his day-in-day-out familiarity with Caine bred unmasked adoration.
And sometimes, late, when the Club had quieted and the city beyond felt distant, Josh would lie awake in the room Caine had given him, aware of how little separated them now.
Not walls.
Just patience.
It wasn’t desire that was missing.
It was permission.
Caine, for his part, found the relationship exceeding his most ambitious expectations. He hungered to formalize his relationship with Josh. To let Josh, and everyone else, know how he felt. It was the first time in his life he’d found the right person. The person who knew how to make him whole.
That realization settled in quietly one evening as Caine stood alone in the condo contemplating how to make that happen. Josh was in his room, door closed, likely reviewing notes for Monday or stretching out muscles that refused to stay sore for long anymore.
It struck Caine then how completely Josh had integrated himself, not just into the work, or the training, or even the Club—but into Caine’s own internal rhythm.
That was not accidental.
Affection had crept up on him sideways. He’d expected admiration, even dependence. Those were familiar dynamics. What he had not anticipated was the satisfaction, the calm certainty, that came from Josh’s presence. From the way Josh watched him, listened to him, adjusted himself instinctively to Caine’s expectations without being told twice.
Josh didn’t resist being shaped.
He leaned into it.
Caine had recognized that quality immediately. It was why the pairings at the Club worked when they worked, and why they failed when they didn’t. The mentees had to want the structure. Had to find freedom in it rather than constraint.
Josh did.
The realization both thrilled and unnerved him.
Caine had clear intentions now. He no longer pretended otherwise. He could see the path ahead with unnerving clarity: Josh trained, refined, claimed, owned, not as a project, not as an indulgence, but as his partner in the specific, disciplined sense the Club understood. One of the pairings. Seen, respected, unquestioned.
And Josh, whether he fully understood it yet or not, was already behaving as if that future were inevitable.
More than that, Caine would not take Josh further unless he was certain, absolutely certain, that Josh understood what was being offered. Not fantasy. Not novelty. But commitment to a dynamic that demanded sacrifice, discipline, and consequence.
Caine moved to the window, looking out over the city lights.
He wanted Josh beside him—physically, and metaphorically. A warm embrace. Eyes open. Choice made.
Soon, he thought.
Very soon.
Because Josh was ready.
And Caine was done pretending he wasn’t.
*****
One day after a brutal workout session, with testosterone pumping through his veins, Caine came to a decision. It was time.
Enough innuendo, veiled reference to meeting expectations, subtle compliments about Josh’s physique. He was ready. And, more importantly, he knew Josh was as well.
It was after the Wednesday workout Caine messaged Josh: Change of plans. No Thursday dinner. Saturday swim at 4. Dinner afterward.
Josh received it and was puzzled. He wasn’t aware of anything that would’ve change their routine, but more to the point, the abruptness of the message. It was a Saturday night, and while Josh’s life pretty much revolved around Caine by this point, the message seemed oddly terse.
He decided to go for it: Dinner Saturday night. Anything I should be aware of?
Caine had to play it cool; he couldn’t get into it on phone texts. He yearned to declare his intentions. But he wisely pulled back and replied: Nothing to worry about. Monday a holiday, so long weekend. Need to talk about the future.
Josh wasn’t quite sure how to read that…his future at the firm? Their living arrangement? Was Caine pulling back? He wouldn’t allow himself to believe it was that, nor could he hope that it was more. He couldn’t go there.
It was business as usual for the rest of the week. Friday’s workout was routinely brutal, but Caine’s head wasn’t in it. He seemed to be on another planet. Even Jason noticed.
“What’s up with the boss?” Jason asked Josh privately. “He seems…distracted.”
“Your guess is as good as mine”, Josh replied, and then shared the change of plans for Saturday’s swim and dinner.
Jason cocked his head and smirked. Josh could see the wheels spinning in his head.
“What?!” Josh asked accusingly.
“I know nothing….” Jason smiled as he walked away, arms outstretched. As he left, he turned his head to Josh and added, “Wear something nice.”
For whatever reason, the words Jason spoke to him months ago echoed through his mind: ‘You’ll be a reflection of him when you’re by his side.’ Could it be happening, Josh asked himself.
Josh spent Saturday alone at the office and got back in time for their late afternoon swim. He entered the apartment and found Caine waiting for him in nothing but his speedo and a towel around his neck. “Been waiting Little Man, let’s get going”, he stood up. The sight of Caine in his low slung Todd Sanfield brought the memories flooding back to that day at the high school pool. The man was built like a god. Not a Greek god, but a swimming god. Broad-shoulders, incredibly wingspan, V-shaped torso, chiseled arms and legs, and a trail from his chest that tried, unsuccessfully, to bury itself under the unmissable bulge in his swimsuit. Seeing Caine in this context nearly made Josh’s jaw drop.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost”, he smiled. “Let’s go!”
“Sorry, Sir” he responded….Why did he say “Sir”? He’d never used that word before with Caine. “I’ll be ready in a minute”.
Taking his cue from Caine, Josh found his sexiest THK, which was so low slung the top of Josh’s jet black bush peaked out. “Let’s go”, he announced as he walked out in nothing but the suit and a towel around his neck.
“Damn, boy, you get more handsome every day”, Caine offered. This comment was out of character for Caine. He’d hinted before but never came on like that. Josh’s hopes were rising that tonight would be a very special night.
The swim was more splashing and roughhousing than laps and races. Both were in desperate need of relief from the ongoing pressures of the firm. More than once, after a bout of horseplay, Caine would pull Josh into an embrace and throw him into the water as if he were a child.
Once back in the apartment, they wandered in and out of each other’s rooms as they dressed like two best friends—or maybe even lovers. Everything about tonight seemed different. Special. Josh found a pair dress slacks and sport shirt that, together, looked perfect for a date. Caine did the same. A sport coat silk shirt, and slacks that looked they’d been sewn on him.
Once dressed, they eyed each other simultaneously; neither could contain themselves. “You look spectacular, Little Man” Caine smiled. Josh took the bait and replied, without hesitation, “You look even better, old man”, and grabbed his shoulder affectionately.
“Let’s go!” Caine wrapped his arm around him and pulled him out to the elevator.
The electricity—let’s admit it, the sexual tension—had increased exponentially over the past 24 hours. It had always there, but low voltage. Tonight, they were acting on it.
Caine had selected a table in the corner where they could look out but were somewhat secluded. Without consulting Josh, he ordered cocktails, hors d’oeuvres, expensive wine, and entrees for both. It wasn’t lost on Josh that he was being taken care of, looked after. Maybe even seduced.
As they sat, Josh felt Caine’s leg press against his. At a crowded table where you’re fighting for space, it would’ve seemed perfectly normal. But it was just the two of them, and the pressure of Caine’s leg against his was impossible to ignore. So impossible, in fact, that Josh matched the pressure with force of his own. Even if he had mistaken Caine’s intentions, which he was sure he hadn’t, Caine wouldn’t be able to ignore his. Caine let a moment elapse after Josh pressed his leg against Caine’s. He then lifted his head to acknowledge it, placed his hand over Josh’s, and whispered, “That feels good.”
Utter silence. The die had been cast. There was no turning back. And Josh was flush with excitement.
Without acknowledging the placement of his hand, he looked Josh in the eye and said, “I’m sure you’re wondering what tonight is about. Let’s talk about it”, to which Josh leaned back slightly but pressed his leg even harder into Caine’s as if to say, “Go on…”
“But first, and this is important, so listen well, mate. Our relationship, until now, has been purely professional. Depending on you, that may change after tonight.” He paused, letting that sink in and then continued. “However, you have my word that no matter what happens tonight, it will not impact your career at Stone & Ash. You’re off to an incredible start and nothing you can do, no decision you’ll make tonight, will jeopardize that. Do you understand that fully and you do want me to go on.”
Josh looked up into his eyes, and quietly replied, “Yes….and yes.”
“That’s a relief”, Caine sighed audibly. “Because if I couldn’t go forward, I’d be the most disappointed man in the world.”
Josh simply cocked his head sideways…and waited.
As if a weight had been lifter from his shoulders, Caine continued, “Josh, I have to start with full disclosure. When you were being recruited, I had seen your name on the list, but as I told you, I recused myself. The firm didn’t know we knew each other when you were younger. But when the discussion of mentorship came up, I did, in fact, submit a request to be your mentor…I admit it. I knew you’d have a stellar future. And…and this is difficult to say…I had feelings for you. I remembered you as a high school swimmer…your drive, your commitment, but mostly your desire to serve…to make me happy as your coach. You made me feel like I was the center of your universe.”
Josh removed his hand from under Caines and placed it on his, just as Caine had done to him. He squeezed it and said quietly, “You were, Sir. You were my everything. You made me feel special, important, talented. I’d never felt any of those things before, or since.”
Caine continued, “I made you feel all those things because you were all those things. I wasn’t making it up.” He paused thoughtfully and went on, “But I couldn’t act on it; that would’ve been immoral, not to mention illegal”, he laughed. “But when I saw your name as a mentorship candidate, I thought I was being given a second chance. And I couldn’t have been more right.”
“But there’s more”, Caine continued.
Josh looked at him quizzically but said nothing.
“Did you ever wonder about the name of this club? The significance of the word “Keyholder?” Why it’s so discreet? The ‘pairs’ of men, one older, one younger?” Caine asked him.
“It crossed my mind”, Josh answered truthfully, “but not enough to dwell on it.”
“Let me tell you about the Club”, Caine continued.
“The Keyholders Club was founded on a simple, dangerous truth:
That power, when denied shape, will rot, but when given willingly, can become devotion.
“At The Keyholders Club, we formalize bonds that have only existed in the shadows. Authority meets surrender, command drives submission.
“Experienced men like myself hold power, and we accept the burden of it. Younger men like yourself willingly yield, and are sharpened by your submission.
“You’ve seen the pairs of men here. We’re all the same. The ‘Keyholder’…” and he pointed to himself…” and the ‘Charge’”…pointing at Josh.
“Josh, I’m inviting you to be my Charge at The Keyholders Club. Live with me, obey me, submit to me. I will open doors for you, opportunity, discipline, belonging, but there’s a cost. And you step through those doors knowing the cost.”
He continued, “Josh, you already willingly submit to me, you receive pleasure from surrendering to me. That’s a gift, and it takes strength. It defies everything we, as men, are wired to believe. And once you achieve it, like you have, it’s incredibly liberating.”
“Josh, please join me on this journey. Accept my invitation…my desire…for you to be my Charge.”
Unexpectedly, Caine’s eyes teared up just a bit, so to buy some time, he said, “I’ve just thrown a lot at you. I’ll stop talking now.”
Josh was rendered nearly speechless, but this felt so right he let his mouth start talking and his brain catch up. “Two things, Caine. First, you’re 100% right about me, and what I appreciate most is that you respect me for it. It’s hard for a man like me—any man—to willingly submit to another. To acquiesce. To surrender. And I appreciate the strength you see in that.” They stared into each other’s eyes to punctuate their mutual understanding of this difficult truth.
“And secondly”, he finally added, “I would be honored to be your Charge, and I'd lean over to kiss you if there weren’t a room full of people here.”
“That’s the point, Little Man”, Caine laughed. “Don’t you know by now this Club is filled with Caine’s and Josh’s. That’s why we’re here. Everyone in this room is a Keyholder or a Charge. We unlock relationships like ours. We validate them and love each other as a result.” And with that, he put his hand behind Josh’s head and pulled him in for the singularly most romantic kiss either had ever encountered.
First soft, then intense, then tongue, and then Caine pulled back before someone yelled “Get a room!”. But then he did the next best thing. He slid his hand under the table and squeezed Josh’s now-hard bulge.
Looking Josh straight in the eyes, squeezing hard, he asked, “Who owns this, boy?”
“You do, Sir”, Josh murmured happily.
“Damn right I do. Now let’s get upstairs.”
Josh paused, smiled, and simply whispered, “Yes, Sir.”
--To be continued--
FEEDBACK PLEASE - I love hearing from readers; it helps me understand the difference between stories that work and those that need work. Please reach out to me and let me know what's on your mind. I value your feedback: [email protected]
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
