Always Forgotten

Despite the lack of patrons, the music boomed loudly from the speakers. Ethan had to shout to make himself heard at the bar. "I'm here to see Caleb Harrington."

The bartender nodded and turned his back on him. He poured him a whiskey double and placed the glass on the bar.

"I don't drink whiskey," Ethan said.

"That's for Caleb. What are you having?"

"Just a beer, please."

The man opened a bottle from the fridge behind the bar and placed it next to the whiskey. Ethan paid for his beer and noted he hadn't been charged for the whiskey.

The bartender pointed over to the door at the end of the bar. "Through there, upstairs, first on the right."

Ethan picked up the drinks and headed for the door. "Thanks," he called over his shoulder, but the bartender had already moved on to the next customer.

Ethan found Caleb's room easily. He knocked on the door and waited.

"Enter." The voice sounded deep and rich, with a slightly foreign twang.

Ethan pushed open the door and slipped inside. "Caleb?"

"Yes." The man sitting in the chair by the window put his newspaper to one side and stood. "You must be Ethan."

Bloody hell, Caleb was tall.

Ethan nodded, his mouth too dry to speak. Caleb was absolutely gorgeous. Dark hair and even darker eyes, he appeared to be a man who spent a lot of time in the sun.

Caleb stalked--no other word could describe the way he moved--toward him and took the whiskey from Ethan's hand. He drank it down in just a few gulps then smacked his lips together. "You didn't make this appointment, did you?"

Ethan shook his head.

"I didn't think so. I can always tell those who've had a helpful friend set them up, as opposed to those who dive eagerly into my bed."

"I've no idea what I'm doing here," Ethan admitted. He took a drink of his beer and wished he'd asked for something stronger. "I've never been to a prostitute before."

Caleb scowled at him. "I'm not a whore. No money will exchange hands tonight."

Ethan could tell he'd offended Caleb. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insinuate--"

"You didn't insinuate anything," Caleb interrupted. "You called me a prostitute. I'm merely correcting you."

Ethan backed up against the door and fumbled behind him for the handle. "I should go."

"Why?"

"Because I've offended you, and I don't know what the hell I'm doing here."

Caleb waved Ethan towards the chairs. "Take a seat, Ethan."

Even though he thought he'd be better off running out the door, Ethan did as Caleb had suggested and sat.

"This is what's going to happen," Caleb explained, as he took the second seat. "If you choose to stay with me tonight, we're going to have sex. Tomorrow morning I'll ask you to do something for me, and you'll leave."

"What are you going to ask me to do?"

"Merely come back into the room after you've already closed the door behind you."

"That's all?"

"Yes. If you're like all the others who have taken up my offer, you'll forget everything about me the moment you leave the room. You'll have seen the exit sign opposite my door?"

"Yes."

"It's there so you'll find your way out of the building, since you won't recall how you came to be here. You'll have total amnesia of everything that happened from the moment you stepped into the bar downstairs until you left this room."

"I still don't understand why I'll forget everything," Ethan said. "Are you planning on drugging me or something?"

"Certainly not."

"Then why would I have sudden amnesia?"

"Because I'm cursed."

"Excuse me?" Caleb couldn't have said what Ethan thought he had.

"I was a rather promiscuous young man," Caleb explained with a grim smile. "I screwed around with as many men as I could, never going back for seconds and rarely even bothering to remember their names. One day I fucked the wrong man. He was a warlock, and he took offence to my fuck 'em and leave 'em attitude. He cursed me for forgetting him so quickly, and from that day forward, every man I've had sex with has immediately forgotten me."

Ethan laughed. He couldn't help it, even though Caleb appeared affronted at his reaction. He reined his mirth back to a sensible level so he could explain. "I'm sorry, but if you weren't bothering to remember the men you slept with, why would you care if they couldn't remember you?"

"At first I wasn't bothered, but after a while, I came to learn how each man I fucked found love with another immediately afterwards. I became envious of what they had and wanted it for myself, yet I'm cursed to be forgotten."

"Until a man comes back to you?" Ethan asked.

"Yes."

"How long have you been waiting?"

Caleb frowned in concentration. "Just over two hundred years."

"What?" Of all the things Ethan had heard in the last few minutes, this one piece of information might just tip him over the edge.

"The warlock who cursed me also ensured my punishment would last a considerable length of time. I've not aged a single day since the night it happened."

Ethan wasn't sure what to say in response. He didn't quite know whether to believe Caleb or not. Common sense told him the story was just part of his act. Yet a small inkling of doubt at the back of his mind had him believing Caleb truly had lived for over two centuries.

Caleb glanced at the clock on the wall. "Time to make your choice."