Chapter 11 #2
My gaze drifted across the street to a man in a leather harness laughing with a group of friends, then further, to someone being led past on a chain without the slightest hint of self-consciousness.
“It’s so… different.” I glanced at Stefan. “I’d read a bit about Folsom Europe, but this… It isn’t what I expected.”
“That’s because you’re thinking of it as something separate,” he said.
I frowned. “Isn’t it?”
He shook his head, then gestured to the street. “This is just a more visible version of what’s already there.”
I followed his gaze.
“People don’t suddenly become something else for a weekend,” he went on. “They simply stop pretending they’re not.”
I exhaled slowly. “And everyone just… accepts it?”
“Here? Yes.” There was a pause. “That doesn’t mean everyone understands everything they’re seeing,” he added. “But they don’t have to.”
I frowned again. “So what is it, exactly?”
“Folsom?” He tilted his head. “It’s a celebration.”
“Of leather?”
“Of expression,” he corrected. “Of desire. Of the parts people usually keep hidden.”
I took that in for a moment. “And the bars? Like last night?”
“They lean into it,” Stefan told me. “More people. Less inhibition. Fewer boundaries between what’s private and what isn’t.”
I blinked. “That sounds… intense.”
“It can be.” Another pause. “But it doesn’t have to be overwhelming.”
“How? How can you make sure of that?”
He met my gaze. “You go at your own pace.”
I couldn’t break eye contact. “And if I don’t know what that pace is?”
Stefan smiled. “Then you find out.”
I looked back at the street. “Do you come every year?”
“Yes.” He chuckled. “I live near here. It isn’t as if I could miss it.”
“And is it always like this?”
“No.”
That got my attention. “How is it different?”
Stefan stroked his beard. “It depends on what you’re looking for.”
I locked gazes with him. “And what am I looking for?”
That smile did things to my insides. “That is what makes this interesting.”
I didn’t look away or deflect, but simply let that sit with me a while.
Then I smiled. “I’m beginning to think I might want to find out.”
Stefan’s smile deepened. “Good.” He tilted his head. “We could continue in that same educational direction, though perhaps with a different curriculum.”
My pulse quickened. “What did you have in mind?”
“Have you ever been in a gay bar?” he asked.
I nodded. “In Manchester.”
He cocked his head. “Canal Street?”
I blinked. “Have you been there?”
He smiled. “No, but I did watch a British TV series a while back, that was set around there.” His expression softened. “I was thirty at the time, and I’d never seen anything like it.”
“I visited a couple of the bars there. They… they didn’t do a lot for me.”
Stefan’s lips twitched. “I doubt any of them were like Prinzknecht.”
I recalled the bar from the previous night. “What’s so special about it?”
“You’ve seen a lot of leather around here the past few days.”
I smiled. “Like you said, you can’t really miss it.”
“And tonight, you’ll see a lot more. Prinzknecht will be full of it.” His searching gaze sent heat barrelling through me. “Do you want to go?”
“If I say no…”
Stefan gave me an easy smile. “We go somewhere else.”
It was the lack of pressure that decided me.
“Then yes, let’s go.”
My heart slipped into a higher gear at the thought.
Light spilled from Prinzknecht, its frontage barely visible due to the bodies clustered outside. Men filled the pavements and flowed into the street, voices rising and falling in a constant, restless rhythm.
I slowed as we approached, taking in the crowd, the unmistakable energy in the air. Stefan didn’t rush me. Instead, he stepped closer, his hand to my back.
“I’m right here,” he said quietly.
I glanced at him, then nodded. “I’m feeling a little underdressed,” I confessed.
“Not everyone is in leather.” Stefan grinned. “Me, for instance.”
I’d never seen so many men in leather. They stood in small groups, confident and loud. The aroma of cigarettes and cigars pervaded the air. And everywhere I looked, men touched. Kissed. Stroked.
I felt the warmth of Stefan’s hand through my tee.
He pointed to the door. “If you’re willing to brave the crush, we’ll go inside.”
I nodded once more, and he led me through the thickening crowd.
The shift hit me the moment we stepped inside.
Heat.
Sound.
Bodies.
The bar was darker than I expected, the lighting low and uneven, catching on leather, metal, and skin. Music pulsed through the space—not overwhelming, but constant, a steady rhythm beneath everything else.
Everywhere I looked, I saw men in leather vests and harnesses, their boots polished to a high shine. There were bare arms, broad backs, and several flashes of skin where clothing became more suggestion than substance.
I stopped inside the doorway, drinking in the sights, the sounds, the smells…
Stefan stayed close to my side, present without crowding me. “Are you all right?”
I expelled a long breath. “Yes.” After a brief pause, I added, “I think so.”
He smiled. “That’s usually how it starts.”
I managed to laugh, my gaze still moving, trying to take everything in at once. “It’s…” I trailed off, searching for the word.
“Different?” Stefan suggested.
I glanced at him. “Different doesn’t even come close.”
He inclined his head toward the bar. “Drink?”
I nodded. “Yes. That would help.”
The press of bodies eased a little as we moved further inside, Stefan guiding me with a light touch at my back, steady, unobtrusive, but unmistakable.
I was so aware of it. Of him. Of everything.
I caught fragments of laughter and low voices as we passed. I noticed the brush of movement too close to be accidental. And beneath it all there was a current, a feeling of something… alive.
We reached the bar, and Stefan leaned in to order, his voice low, confident, easily heard over the music. I rested my hands against the edge, grounding myself before taking a moment to really look.
I wanted to see everything.
A man across the room laughed, his hand resting casually at another man’s waist.
Two others stood close—too close to be mistaken for anything else—their heads bent together, their conversation private despite the noise.
No one was hiding. No one was pretending.
That was when I felt it. Not shock or even surprise, but recognition. Warmth unfurled in my chest.
This feels… right.
Stefan set a drink in front of me, and I took it, our hands brushing. I took a sip, but the taste barely registered.
“I don’t know where to look,” I admitted.
Stefan’s eyes sparkled. “That’s part of the experience.”
I shook my head. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
He leaned in, close enough that I could hear him without effort.
“You’re not missing anything. You’re just seeing it for the first time.”
I turned my head, meeting his gaze. “And you? What do you see?”
Stefan stilled. “You,” he said simply.
The noise of the bar seemed to drop away for a second, not gone altogether, but distant. Stefan didn’t look away, and I felt the weight of that gaze.
How to disarm me with a single word.
Then movement to my right caught my attention. Men passed through an unmarked door, set back from the main space.
I frowned. “What’s through there?” It wasn’t the bathroom—that was clearly marked.
Stefan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watched me for a second.
“It’s a dark room.”
I blinked. “The kind photographers use?”
He laughed. “Definitely not. A dark room is where men go to have sex.”
I stared at him. “That’s… all it’s for?”
Stefan nodded, his eyes trained on my face.
I glanced back toward the door. Another man disappeared through it.
“But surely no one can see a thing in there.”
“That’s part of the appeal.”
I let out a slow breath. “So how do you know if the man you take down there to…”
“Fuck?” Stefan said with a grin.
I rolled my eyes. “Okay—fuck. How do you know it’s him if you can’t see him?”
His grin widened. “Sometimes that’s half the fun.”
I drank some more, trying to process it, to imagine it.
And not succeeding.
“And you just…” I hesitated. “Go in?”
Stefan shrugged. “If you want to.”
I looked at him again. “Do you ever use the dark room?”
He held my gaze. “Sometimes.”
The word settled between us, and my pulse raced. I looked back at the door, then at my drink.
“Do people just… go in there with strangers?” My voice quavered.
“Yes.” Stefan’s hand was on my back. “But you’re not going in there.”
I caught my breath. “Are you telling me I can’t?”
He leaned in close. “No, I’m saying I don’t think you’re ready for that.”
I shivered. “That makes two of us.”
“And if you do eventually decide you want to?” His fingers moved gently up my spine. “You won’t be alone.”
I pushed out a sigh of relief. I didn’t feel overwhelmed, but curious.
Alive.
“Are you okay?”
I took another sip of my drink, then glanced at Stefan. “Yes, I’m fine. And I’m glad I came.”
Stefan’s smile lit up his face. “So am I.”
The way he said it made it clear we were no longer talking about the bar.
Then he leaned in, his breath warming my ear, his voice low enough to carry over the music.
“As a classical musician, there’s something happening tomorrow night that might interest you.”
I turned my head, still half-aware of everything around me—the movement, the heat, the constant pulse of the room. “Oh?”
“It’s a concert,” Stefan said. “In a church. Classical music, but with a theme.”
I frowned. “What kind of theme?”
“Leather. Its title is Classic Meets Fetish.”
I blinked.
“All the performers are in leather,” Stefan continued. “The audience too. It’s… quite something. A sea of it, in a space designed for something far more restrained.”
I let out a quiet breath, trying to picture it, and not quite managing.
“That sounds…” I trailed off.
“Unusual?” Stefan suggested.
I bit back a smile. “That’s one word for it.”
“I have two tickets. I’d be honoured if you came with me.”
The invitation had weight. For a second, I didn’t know how to respond.
“Can I think about it?”
Stefan’s response was instant. “Of course.”
I liked that. No pressure or expectation, just space.
“Thank you.” Then music poured from the speakers, louder than before, killing any idea of conversation.
“It’ll be quieter outside,” Stefan said into my ear.
I nodded, and he grabbed my hand, leading me through the throng of men.
Out on the street, there were still voices, still the drone of traffic, but it felt muted somehow, as if everything had shifted out of reach.
We stood on the other side of the street, observing the crowd. Stefan was at my side, close enough that I could feel the heat of him.
My pulse was already unsteady, but now I didn’t pretend not to know why.
“You’re thinking again.” He grinned. “That’s rarely a good sign.”
I swallowed. “Not this time.”
That got his attention. He moved to stand in front of me, blocking my view of the bar, and I looked him in the eye.
“I told you today I wasn’t holding back anymore.” The words came out steadier than I expected.
Stefan didn’t move. “Yes.”
I shuddered out a breath. “I meant it.” I took a step towards him. Then another, closing the gap between us.
Stefan didn’t break eye contact. “I know.”
That was all it took.
The space between us disappeared, and I brought my hand up without thinking, finding the back of his neck, drawing him closer as our mouths met.
The kiss felt so real.
Stefan’s hand was at my waist, steadying me, grounding me.
The world narrowed until all I knew was the pressure of his mouth against mine, the shift as the kiss deepened, not rushed, not forced, but simply a natural continuation of something that had already begun the night before.
Neither of us was hesitant or careful. I opened for him, and there was no second-guessing, no retreat, nothing but the heat of it, the reality…
The quiet, undeniable truth of what I wanted. What I’d chosen.
This was what I’d been waiting for.
Stefan’s thumb moved once against my side, a small, deliberate motion that sent a sharper awareness spearing through me.
I didn’t pull back or slow down the kiss. If anything, I leaned into it, deepening it, no longer restrained.
No longer afraid of my own desires, my own need.
We finally broke apart, but we stayed close, our foreheads touching, our uneven breaths mingling.
“Still thinking?”
I laughed, a release of pent-up emotion and exhilaration. “Not as much.”
He smiled against my cheek. “Good.”
I breathed deeply. “Well, for a first kiss, I have no complaints.” Stefan pulled back, his eyes wide, and I nodded in confirmation. “My first kiss from a man, at any rate.”
It had been enough to make me realise I didn’t want it to be my last.
His breath caught. His fingers traced the line of my cheekbone. “Do you want to leave it at a kiss?”
Oh God.
My heart pounded, and blood rushed through my ears.
Then he kissed me again, his hands warm on my nape. I let myself fall into it, until I was drowning in all of it, the feel of his lips, the smell of him, that delicious hitch in his breathing that told whatever this was, Stefan felt it too.
He kissed my forehead. “You can say no. It’s okay. I’m not trying to—”
“But what if I don’t want to say no?” I blurted.
I felt the shiver that coursed through him.
“If that were the case, I’d ask you to come back to my place.”
I swallowed. “Then ask me.”