Chapter Four
After a restless night alone last night, Franco decided to head to the Masters at Arms Club Saturday.
He walked into the club’s entry hall and was hit with the throbbing beat of the music, immediately lifting his mood.
“Hey, Doll!” Barb, the bratty redhead at the desk, greeted him the same way she did every time he came in when she was on check-in duty.
Franco fought back a grin. Already, he felt better. “What time do you get off duty, Barb, because I think you might need a refresher on how to address a Dom?”
She grinned. “I’m off in two hours, if you’re still around.”
“Bet your ass I will be. Come find me.”
“Yes, Sir!” She gave him a mock salute, and he grinned. Just what he needed tonight—light kink and no attachments. Maybe he’d start out the night at the bar and wait for Barb, unless he found someone inside he could play with in the meantime.
In the men’s dressing area, he donned his leather vest and pants then grabbed his toy bag from the locker where he kept it until he was in a relationship where he’d want to play at home. He entered the club’s main room and surveyed the space, hoping to find a sub—male or female—looking for a partner tonight, because he needed to get his mind off Rico.
The place rocked tonight with several public scenes in progress, couples dancing to a live band, and a packed bar area. Grant gave him a nod from the bar and beckoned him over. As good a place as any to start. Had she lined up anyone looking for his particular brand of kink after receiving his text earlier tonight?
“What are you drinking, Franco?”
“A tiki spritz, please. I’ve already had a glass of wine tonight at dinner.” He didn’t tell her that he’d paired it with a meal of leftovers at his apartment. Sounded pathetic.
He hadn’t heard anything more from Rico and wondered how his cousin was making out. Maybe he should call Rico tomorrow to check on him. Being someone’s caregiver took a lot out of a person.
When a couple picked up their drinks and headed to one of the tables near the stage, Franco took a seat near the end of the bar. He checked out the band. “Nice sound. Where’d you find them?”
“Karla, a former singer here, told me about them.”
“I’ve heard Patti mention how well Karla sang.”
“Yeah, we miss her, but I like them too,” she said, nodding in the direction of the stage as she wiped water spots off a glass. “They seem to be bringing in members just wanting to hang out, which is nice.”
Grant gave him the once-over—taking in his vest, bare chest, and leather pants—and smiled. “I see you’ve come to play tonight.”
“I need a diversion.”
“Rough day?”
“Try rough week.”
She grinned as she poured grapefruit and lime juices into a tall glass, added a dash of cinnamon, and topped it off with club soda. “Well, that’s what we’re here for—to help take the stress out of life.” She slid the drink over to him and quickly surveyed the room.
“Does this place do that for you too, Grant?”
She shrugged. “Most days.”
He hadn’t seen her playing much lately. When she did, no one could wield a whip better than she could—or humiliate a malesub with more finesse. One thing was certain, he wasn’t a sadist like Grant seemed to be, nor had he any masochistic tendencies or any desire to humiliate the subs he played with.
But she ran the club with precision, and he appreciated that.
The dungeon monitors on duty were charged with watching the private rooms, so Grant could tend bar and stay attuned to what was happening in the public room.
“Since you came to play, there’s a new malesub here tonight. He’s still in his orientation class, but if you’re interested, I can hook you two up for a session.”
“Do you have his interest form?”
“You know it.” Grant turned around, picked up a manila folder from behind her, and slid the interest sheet across the bar.
Franco looked over the list of things he was curious about. Flogging, spanking, nipple torture, whips, gags, blindfolds, sensory deprivation, rope, bondage, spreader bars, various types of anal play, wax, orgasm control, fireplay, and cock and ball torture. He mentioned knives but wrote in the margin that he was not interested in drawing blood or any play involving body fluids.
Good. Neither am I.
His other limits included severe beatings, caning, puppy and pony play, and humiliation.
“That’s a pretty intense list of interests for a newbie.”
Grant smiled, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “He definitely piqued my interest, but I need to keep an eye on things out here tonight. We’re short one dungeon monitor.”
The poor guy would have been toast at the hands of this Domme. To be sure, like Franco, she’d have avoided the things on the list the sub didn’t want to try, but she’d have severely tested him on everything he expressed an interest in.
“Anyway, that’s why I want you to be the one working with him. You’ll know how to feel him out, make sure he knows when to use his safe and slowdown words, and ensure that his first time is satisfying in all the right ways. You’re good with newcomers.”
“Thanks.” He hadn’t been coming here all that long himself, but without much of a personal life outside the club, he’d spent a lot of time learning the ropes as a Dom. And the sub who had filled out this form intrigued him in many ways.
“Sure, I’ll be happy to do a session with him. Which rooms are available?”
“Four, Seven, and Eight.”
“Eight sounds perfect.” Lots of fun things to try with the newbie in there.
Grant grabbed her plastic-covered clipboard sheet and marked that room off with a dry-erase marker.
Franco lifted his drink to his mouth and downed it, mostly to cool himself down before the scene. He set the glass on the bar. “I’ll go get set up. About how much longer will he be in orientation?”
Grant glanced at her watch. “Another ten minutes or so.”
Franco nodded and made his way to the hall where the theme rooms were located. He’d chosen Room Eight for the St. Andrew’s cross and spanking bench—two fun places to start testing the sub’s limits and tolerance levels.
He removed his suede floggers from his toy bag, as well as the one he’d fashioned out an old piece of fire hose that delivered both thuddy and scratchy blows, depending on which side he used. Actually, not knowing the sub’s threshold for pain yet, he’d better hold off on that one for possible use later.
Funny how he already expected to play with this sub again sometime.
He’d start with the suede ones. A quick glance at his watch told him he still had a few minutes to wait so he pulled out some leather wrist cuffs and a spreader bar. Grant would send the sub to him when ready, so he picked up the floggers and began to get his rhythm down.
Franco couldn’t wait to begin. The swish of the falls moving through the air made a lovely sound and lulled him into a more relaxed state. This session would be just what he needed to forget about these past few days.
When the door opened somewhat tentatively, Franco turned and his hand movements came to an abrupt standstill.
Rico?
“What the hell are you doing here?” Franco asked.
Rico did a double take then gave the Dom he’d been assigned the once-over. “Franco?” He had no clue his friend was into kink. What else didn’t he know about the life Franco led away from sleepy Aspen Corners?
As if suddenly remembering his role, Franco stood taller, no warmth or welcome in his expression. “That’s Sir to you tonight. How should I address you?”
“Rico is fine. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
Unlike you, Sir.
Franco’s gaze swept Rico from head to toes with a stern assessing look before their eyes met again. When Rico had chosen to wear the glittery gold muscle shirt and a black G-string thong tonight, he’d never expected to be standing mere inches from the man of his dreams. He’d just tried to come up with what a gay man might wear to a BDSM Club. Now he wondered if he’d overdone the flaming gay a bit.
“Apparently not. And how do you address me?”
“Sir! Sorry, Sir.”
Crap, this protocol stuff was going to take some getting used to.
Rico raised his chin in false bravado, not caring whether Franco found his flamboyant outfit a turn-on or turnoff. Most folks from Aspen Corners only saw Rico in the persona of a respectable business owner. He did sometimes flaunt himself in the privacy of his home—especially back in his twink years—but he enjoyed breaking expectations.
Especially those of the man standing in front of him dressed in black leather pants and vest—no shirt. With his broad shoulders, furry chest, and towering height, Franco was all rugged dominant bear. The thick hair on Franco’s pecs begged for Rico to rake his fingers through it. The hair tapered off to reveal sculpted six-pack abs that made Rico anxious to follow that happy trail with his tongue. Rico loved it.
Rico’s nipples grew harder. He’d thought Franco was hot in the cowboy getup at the wedding last weekend, but this man scorched the air between them in his Dom gear. Rico hadn’t felt so exposed and vulnerable in a very long time, though, despite the fact that he and Franco had been on the track and field team together and had seen each other naked in the locker room many times.
Not that Franco had noticed Rico’s body back then, as far as he could tell. The attraction had definitely been one-sided. Their age difference was a big deal back then, and Rico thought perhaps the ramifications of his coming out might have scared Franco away from admitting any attraction, if there was one.
“Since you’ve chosen to dress as a twink boi bottom, I will address you as boi.”
What’s up with that? Franco was only two-and-a-half years older.
“Assuming you still wish to pursue a session with me tonight.”
Do I?
Rico hadn’t expected to see anyone he knew tonight, let alone Franco. When he’d talked with Angie last night about everything happening with Michelle, she’d suggested he go to this club as an escape. She’d never tipped him off that he might find Franco at the club. Maybe she was playing matchmaker. Had Rico somehow made it obvious to her how he felt about Franco?
Then again, perhaps she didn’t know her brother was a member of the Masters at Arms. With the club’s strict confidentiality rules, he had no clue how he might ask either one of them what they knew about the other’s kink side.
This was Rico’s first foray into a BDSM club, and Angie had been telling him about this place for years. It hadn’t been all that great for her when that asshole Allen had brought her here, but the club’s owners had taken care of the situation. Later, Angie had come back often with Marc, until they’d moved near Aspen Corners, anyway.
Was the entire Giardano family into BDSM? Clearly, Rico didn’t know Franco as well as he’d once thought. But when Angie had told him BDSM might help relieve his stress, Rico had decided to go for it. Man, did he ever need some stress relief.
Unfortunately, almost half the cause of his stress and frustration currently stood in front of him in all his dominant glory.
Franco’s intense stare compelled Rico to take two more steps into the room and close the door behind him. That was a nonverbal commitment of sorts, right? Not sure what to do next, Rico stood a moment before remembering what he’d been told in his orientation session. He lowered his gaze and zeroed in on Franco’s shiny leather boots.
Sir’s boots.
“Come closer, boi.”
Continuing to keep his gaze downcast while surreptitiously sneaking a peek at Franco’s crotch, Rico did as he’d been ordered.
Franco wore his leathers like a second skin, his muscular thighs stretching them tight in all the right places. His bulge made Rico curious to see what the man had hidden inside those leathers, but as he understood it, sex inside the club wasn’t allowed for newbies like him. His instructor had hinted there was a room upstairs that could be used by longtime members wanting to have sex, but that was off-limits to Rico.
Which was fine. He wasn’t here for sex. At least he hadn’t come here for that purpose initially. But seeing Franco in his leathers made him regret that club rule. Rico supposed if the two of them hit it off, they certainly could continue their relationship outside the club.
There was so much he wanted to discover about the guy he’d lusted after all these years. One thing was certain, though—Franco had earned his trust by not bullying him after he came out and for treating him as a friend ever since.
Rico wouldn’t have that level of trust with any random Dom he might have been paired with tonight, even though Angie had assured him Mistress Grant would take good care of him. Frankly, the dominant woman who ran the club had such a man-eater edge to her that Rico wasn’t so sure. He intended to avoid her as much as possible.