Upon arrival, a customer is met by one of the ubiquitous and almost asexual Pages. They question the customer on their needs and preferences, then assigned a Key to the customer. How they chose was unknown, and there were no disputes or refunds. A returning customer could not even demand the same Key, although a request might be honored if the Key was available.

Maybe.

Once assigned a Key, the customer could stay as long as they liked, or needed, or could afford, with the only rule being no permanent harm to Key or customer.

Anything else was up to them.

Roberts sat unmoving as the Page behind the desk ignored him for the computer. He didn't bother to crane his neck to try to read what was on the screen. If he'd been standing, it would have been at attention. As it was, his fingers twitched. He was unarmed, and he felt naked as a result. In the distance he could hear the sounds of mortar fire, even though he knew it was all in his head.

Instead, all he had was the well-worn duffle sitting on the floor next to him, holding the two changes of clothing he'd brought home with him. The only problem was, home didn't exist anymore. He wasn't sure that he'd ever had a place he could truly call home. They were just places he had lived. Even the military hadn't been a true home, despite their claims.

The Page finally nodded, tapped one last key, then pulled a swipe card from his desk drawer. He slipped it into a programming unit that sat next to the computer. When a faint beep sounded -- Roberts hid the flinch well, he knew, but it was there -- it was removed and handed over.

"Your guide will show you to the room, sir," the Page said in a husky voice that did nothing to confirm a gender, although Roberts' instincts said male.

Roberts stood and turned crisply. A second Page -- either a young woman or a boy still in his teens -- stood waiting, garbed in what appeared to be a standard silver-gray that blended into the color of the walls.

Following the other Page through a maze of hallways, Roberts still had his doubts about this whole outfit, but he held his tongue. A man he considered his mentor -- almost a father, since his own had showed little interest in his existence -- had sent him here, telling him that he needed this. He still wasn't entirely sure how he'd been talked into it, but his welcome 'home' had left him with little else to do.

The Page led him through a dizzying maze of corridors before coming to a stop in front of a door. He -- or she -- bowed slightly, then left, never having said a word.

Roberts eyed the door suspiciously, wondering if it was too late to turn and leave, although he had nowhere to go at the moment.

There wasn't anything about the door that was disconcerting, or even memorable. Just a basic door with a card-swipe lock. He glanced at the card he'd been given -- white, with the black magnetic stripe the only marking on it -- then finally shrugged and inserted it. A moment later a green light went on, and he heard a soft click inside the door. He hesitated, then pushed.

The room on the other side was a surprise. He'd expected something more like a hotel room, but the room was large and comfortable, and the bamboo furniture and grass mats on the walls gave the impression of a tropical resort. Soft light came with warm breezes through the windows on one side of the room, making the sheer curtains billow. He dropped his duffle on the floor, and looked around, rubbing his shoulder. The scar was covered by his shirt, but the ache reminded him constantly of its existence. His dreams reminded him of how he'd gotten it.

There was a soft sound -- a thud, like a body dropping to the ground -- behind him, and he spun around and dropped into a ready crouch to find that the door had vanished. The wall behind him was all grass mats, like the others. Cursing himself for a fool, he grabbed the wall covering and pulled.

And felt like a fool when the mat tore away easily, revealing the door behind it, as well as another swipe lock. It didn't match the rest of the decor, explaining why the mat had come down to cover it. Still, he felt a little better being able to see the door, knowing where the exit was if he needed it.

But he was completely alone in the room, which was not what he'd expected.

The two doors led to a bedroom decorated in soft, but masculine, colors, with a bathroom beyond it, and a small kitchen. But no Key. There was only one direction he had not explored in, and that was past the billowing sheers. He brushed them aside, careful not to let his hand get tangled in the silkiness.

What he found on the other side froze him in place. Behind the curtains was a wall of windows and sliding doors leading out to a porch that overlooked a sandy beach and the ocean, with a darkening horizon.

The only problem was, when he'd entered the Palace, he'd been nowhere near a body of water, especially one so obviously tropical. And yet, what he was seeing wasn't a special effect, it was real. And it was impossible.

That was when he saw the Key, or what he assumed was the Key since there wasn't anyone else around. Roberts was surprised. While he had been told not to make assumptions, he'd expected someone, well, *younger*. And female. The man running on the beach wearing only a pair of ragged cutoff jeans looked to be his own age. Pale blonde hair didn't show any gray, but from this distance you wouldn't be able to see any. Tall and lean and well muscled, he was nothing like Roberts would have expected from a... His mind shied away from the usual terms and finally settled on 'courtesan'.

And he'd finally noticed Roberts standing on his porch. He skidded to a stop on the wet sand, staring up at Roberts. Something in the set of his jaw made Roberts eyes narrow. It reminded him a sulky junior officer he'd once had who'd thought his family history of generals meant that superior officers should defer to him. He'd had to put that boy in his place quickly, despite the political consequences; this one looked to be cut from the same cloth.

Roberts closed his eyes briefly and sighed. He wasn't sure he could deal with this, right now. Not when his dreams were full of the sounds of battle; when the glare of rockets went off behind his eyelids every time he closed his eyes. Not when everything smelled of blood and sand. He needed something... softer.

But he'd returned home only to be served with divorce papers and a court order telling him to stay away from his own home. He had not spoken to his soon to be ex-wife since then, and doubted that he would. Rumor had it that another man was already living in the house that he had bought for her after their wedding.

The Key finally squared his shoulders and jogged to the steps and up to the porch. He came to a stop in front of Roberts and crossed his arms over his chest. He smelled of salt and sweat, and Roberts found himself breathing it in. Very male, fresh and clean.

"So," the other man said, no emotion or seduction in his low voice.

"You... aren't what I expected," Roberts finally said, not sure what else to say.

The Key snorted. "I get that a lot. Thought you'd get some kid too young to shave? Maybe that's what you were looking for."

Roberts grimaced. "No," he said, choking on his disgust. He'd seen those kids, and knew that some of his fellow soldiers *did* go for that, but the thought made him ill.

"Some woman, ready to defer to your every want and desire? Lounging on a pile of cushions, waiting to peel grapes for you?"

Roberts snorted slightly. "Maybe," he admitted, a little embarrassed by the mental image.

"Disappointed with what you see?" The Key took a step back and ran one hand down his chest to where a line of hair disappeared into the low-slung shorts. He then cupped his groin and squeezed lightly. The size of the mound underneath his hand promised that it was as male as the rest of him.

Roberts was a little surprised to find that he wasn't as disappointed as he thought he should be. A lifetime of heterosexuality, and confronted by a barely dressed, muscular man, he was amazed to find that he was actually.. tempted. Maybe even more than tempted, he realized as he felt a pulse in his groin. "No," he said, and he knew that the wonder was audible in his voice.

There was a hint of lines deepening around the Key's eyes. "Good," he said. He gave himself one last squeeze, then undid the shorts and dropped them to the deck. He stepped out of them, and stood still in front of Roberts for a moment. Roberts' eyes were drawn to the other man's groin. His... dick was long and lean like the rest of him, already growing slightly under the examination. His mouth went dry as he realized that he wasn't going to run out of the Palace like a frightened virgin.

The Key laughed, then brushed past Roberts, groping him quickly as he did so, heading into the impossible building. The complete lack of respect in the move made Roberts' back stiffen, but this time with anticipation. The pulse had become a full throb, and he felt a little dizzy. He'd expected something soft and gentle, but what he'd found looked to be anything but.

Eyeing the storm clouds gathering on the horizon, Roberts actually found himself smiling in anticipation. Instead of what he'd expected, he had the feeling that he'd found exactly what he needed.

He went inside for round one of the battle.