Chapter 3
Rivi
Without GPS, I might never have found the place.
My shopping destination. A kink shop catering to all kink needs.
The place was called The Haven, and it was on a side street surrounded by warehouses and run-down buildings.
But The Haven itself had a modern facade and looked well kept.
The parking lots in the area were lumpy and full of weeds, The Haven had a fenced lot that looked brand new.
At first I thought I had to pay for parking. There was an attendant, but no signs. But then I realized it was security. Wow. Okay. That meant this place did well enough off the beaten track to make customers feel secure.
The guard stared at me for a few seconds, then nodded me on. I didn’t feel too uncomfortable.
I parked near a few other cars, got out and straightened my lime green, faux sheep’s wool jacket. I put my Peter Pan purse over my shoulder sideways, pushed up my glasses, kept my eyes straight ahead and bravely headed for the entrance, my breath making mist on the cold air.
The inside was the size of a large grocery store. I blinked, body immediately responding to the warmth and the lighting. I saw long glass counters along the front. A Christmas tree with phallic ornaments stood to the left of the door, glimmering with lights.
A cashier at one of the counters turned and looked at me, one eyebrow raised.
“Hello. Welcome to The Haven.”
I raised my hand in a little wave. “Hi.”
“First time?”
I nodded, trying not to blush.
He paused, looking me up and down, then said, “That’s good. Enjoy.” He glanced away as if during that exchange I’d been judged, vetted and accepted.
Ahead of me were long aisles full of stuff. Wonderful stuff from what I could glimpse. The stuff of my dreams.
In the space between the counters and the aisles, I saw a big adult rocking horse. It was so tall it would take a step ladder to get on it. This was definitely a centerpiece, perfect for some rich guy’s playroom, and probably cost a fortune.
Luckily, I wasn’t on the hunt for rocking horses. At least, not now. But I did walk by it close enough to touch the polished wood of one flank. It was smooth as if carved from marble.
I heard voices in other parts of the store. I wasn’t the only shopper here, which made me feel less conspicuous and strange.
The first aisle had racks and racks of leather attire and accessories. I hurried on, wanting to take in everything. But leather wasn’t my thing.
I came around a corner to another aisle. Shelves on either side contained cases of dildos of every size imaginable from little pinkies to dicks as big as construction cones. There was no way anyone could take that huge of a dildo without serious injury. They had to be for show. Right?
Mixed in with the dildos were collections of butt plugs. Some came in sets cushioned neatly in boxes with clear lids. There was so many. I’d never played with a plug or a dildo before. I didn’t know if I’d hate it or like it.
I walked slowly, taking it all in. The Internet contained a huge selection of items like these, but it was different seeing it all up close and personal. I touched some of the cases with my fingertips. Maybe I never wanted to play with toys like these, but I was in awe.
I walked down aisles with costumes. Police. Security. Prison guard. Soldier. Uniforms were definitely a big deal for many into kink. They were almost ominous hanging before me.
The next aisle held more clothes and as I moved down I nearly squawked in joy when I saw the adult-sized onesies. Here was my starting point. My heart rate rose.
Soft flannels met my gaze, mostly in pastel colors which I adored. The patterns showed off bunnies and bears and unicorns and sheep. Baby ducks. Kittens. Puppies. One had pink baby bottles on a pale blue background. I reached up to feel the flannel. So pretty.
Then I began to look for my size. Extra small. And there it was. I took it down and touched it. It had a flap that buttoned in the back just like baby Michael’s from Peter Pan. I owned one onesie. Now it looked like I would have another. The price was high, but still affordable.
I also picked out another onesie, yellow with unicorns, that had long sleeves but left the legs bare. I couldn’t wait to try it on at home and preen in front of my mirror.
Before I realized it, I was carrying too much to add to my dream pile. I didn’t know what to do.
Behind me, a throat cleared. “Do you need a cart?”
I turned. The cashier smiled and pushed a black shopping cart toward me.
“Yes, thank you.”
“I thought you might. Take your time. If there’s something you can’t find, just ask.”
“I will.” My hands were shaking as I put all the things I’d chosen into the cart.
I was so happy the cashier read my mind, but was he spying on me? Maybe he was just being a good clerk.
It was a big job to shop. When I felt too warm, I took off my coat and put it in the cart.
Soon, my cart was full of fun stuff. I tried to budget what I got and not spend all my money. Most things were expensive, but I understood these were specialty items for adults.
For the season, there was an aisle of Christmas themed stuff. I loved all of it. So hard to resist. I ended up getting myself a reindeer squishy. And something called Santa lube. It was scented. Candy cane. The container was plastic and shaped like a miniature Santa figurine.
As I came around the last corner of the last aisle, my cart looking gloriously full, I saw a big poster on the wall.
It had a lot of red and black on it, with a frame of squares with a bunch of stuff in them like St. Andrews Crosses and cat o’ nine tails.
In the center sat Santa. He looked like the real deal.
Not a leather dude or anything. But Santa! The caption read:
YOU WILL ENJOY SITTING ON SANTA’S LAP DECEMBER 9 AND DECEMBER 16. SANTA HAS TOYS FOR GOOD BOYS. CHRISTMAS TREATS. CLUB 99. GAY MALE KINK/BDSM CLUB AND BAR.
It was an awesome poster. But I could never go to a place like that. Not in a million years.
I moved toward check-out and there were two men with a cart in front of me chatting. The taller one said, “Are you going to the Club 99 Christmas party?”
The other replied, “Maybe.”
They both looked buff and gave off strong dom vibes.
“The biggest coo is getting invited to Winterbourne’s private Christmas party. Those invites are few and far between. And this year it’s kink after hours.”
Winterbourne? Kink? My ears perked up.
“Where is that one held?”
The taller one replied. “Out in the country. That’s what I hear.”
“It would be great. But I don’t know anyone in his circles. I just enjoy the club. That’s all I need.”
I cleared my throat, mustering my brave self. “Are you talking about the club on that poster?” I pointed to the wall as they turned to look at me.
They both eyed me up and down. I’d never gotten so much attention than this very day. It almost made me laugh.
“Club 99. Yeah,” the taller one said.
“But why did you say the name Winterbourne?”
“It’s owned by him.”
“And he has a country estate?”
“Sure. That’s what I hear, anyway. Are you new around here?”
I shook my head. “No. Just from the suburbs.” I pushed my glasses up. “Shopping.”
“Check out the club sometime.” He glanced at my cart. “It’s really nice, baby boy. Smoothly run.””
“Maybe.” I ducked my head. No one had ever called me baby boy except my mom when I was a kid. “Thank you.”
They both nodded and smiled, then turned to pile their things on the check-out stand. They were unabashed at their leather gear and boxes of plugs, lube and whips.
“Um.” I gulped. “Can I ask one more question?”
“Sure.”
“Is the owner, Mr. Winterbourne… um… well, is his first name Trent?”
“Sure. So you’ve heard of him?”
My blood ran hot. My skin prickled. Seriously? Uncle Trent owned a kink club and had private parties at his country estate?
“Yeah. I have heard of him.” I hoped my voice didn’t shake when I replied. I didn’t want to say more. What if Uncle Trent didn’t want people knowing who his family might be?
I’d been to Uncle Trent’s estate only once when I was around twelve. I never would have guessed he was a kinky guy. He’d hidden it well. But now… this new information made me feel both giddy and shocked.
“He keeps to himself,” the tall guy said. “But if you get around, you hear that name. And especially if you’re a loyal Club 99-er.” His brows narrowed as he scrutinized me. “Where’d you hear it?”
“I—I—um….” I shrugged, trying to buy time.
Meanwhile, the cashier was already ringing them up.
“Well?” the guy prompted.
I quickly said the first answer that came into my mind. “A friend, I think. I was just curious.”
“A friend, eh?”
I nodded, digging my hands into my thick fuzzy coat which was in the front basket of my cart.
“I almost thought you were going to say you know the guy.”
“Who? Me?” I squeaked.
He kept frowning. Finally, the divots between his eyebrows disappeared and he smiled. “The kink circles cross and interconnect at the oddest places and moments. That’s all I meant.”
I took in a shaky breath. “Right. Yes. I think they do.”
“We’re family.”
For a second, I thought he was onto me. Uncle Trent was my family. Then I realized he meant the kink family. Of course, that would be a like-minded fellowship for many. Friendship and brotherhood born of discreetness and secrecy.
“That’s cool,” I said softly. “I’m only just realizing that.”
“Most are decent people in the clubs. Vetted well.”
“Yeah.” My heart started to relax. “Maybe I will check it out sometime. Maybe for the Christmas party. Santa looks fun.”
“He’s a lot of fun,” the other guy said, sticking his head around the shoulder of his friend. “Maybe we’ll see you around.”
“Yes, maybe.” I smiled while knowing full well I wasn’t going to any club. Not alone, anyway.
I thought they might ask my name. I thought they might give me theirs. But they left me alone as they paid and walked away without a backward glance. I was glad. Maybe there was some etiquette in not asking private questions in public even in a kink store.
I put my items up on the check-out stand and the cashier rang me up. A little smile played about his lips, but he never said a word except my total and, “Have a nice day.”
I took my plain black bags in hand and left.