CHAPTER EIGHT
Why did you send me a link to a wiki page about BDSM? ??
Will’s heart lodged in his throat, choking him.
“Fuck!”
With shaking fingers, he guided the mouse to delete his last DM to Greg.
Sorry about that, he replied, and pasted the correct URL to his client’s diagnostics report in the dialogue box.
Rookie mistake, not checking the last web link copied to the clipboard, and Will was above that kind of blundering.
Ray Matthews had clouded his mind and stimulated his senses, but Will had only himself to blame.
It’s all good. I like learning new things. ??
Will acknowledged Greg’s last message with a thumb’s up emoji, and returned to his work on the custom FAQs for said client.
It was rare for either of them to put in hours this late at night, but Greg wanted to finish with the client as soon as possible and Will took the bait of a small bonus if he helped.
The client operated a retail shop and an ecommerce site, and wanted to set up a private cloud for their business.
The owner feared hackers getting into the better-known services, but going private didn’t guarantee a hundred percent protection.
They agreed to Greg’s quote, however, and it wasn’t for Will to quibble. Work equaled pay, which he needed.
Will yawned as he and Greg bantered. He wanted his text chat faux pas far in the rear view, though given Greg’s hunger for gossip he knew he should have expected the video call page.
Greg’s smiling face filled a quarter of his wide laptop screen. “Okay, dude, I gotta know. Research, curiosity, or rabbit hole boredom?” he asked.
Option D, it’s my business and nobody else’s. He and Greg enjoyed the kind of work relationship that withstood bluntness, but Greg wired him payment every two weeks. Best to keep the lines of communication gracious and light. Will liked, too, that Greg was the type of boss willing to bend his ear.
“Have you ever dated anyone who was into, uh, unorthodox interests?” he asked.
“Given our earlier exchange, I see where this is going, so no need to ask for clarification.” Greg grinned at his screen, his gaze lowered. “Nonetheless, I’ve yet to date a Dom or Dominatrix, but I flinged briefly with a Beta in college who was a raw food vegan,” he said.
“What does that have to do with BDSM?”
Greg lifted one shoulder. “It’s a discipline thing, isn’t it?
He took it upon himself to get me to adhere to his diet, too.
We couldn’t eat out anywhere that didn’t have a salad bar, and even then he was picky about everything.
He made his own cashew milk and every time he used my bathroom…
oh lord, Will.” He shook with quiet laughter. “Why did you have to remind me of him?”
“You know, you could have told the guy no. It’s not about being bossed around and forced to eat salad if you’d rather have a burger.”
“Now you tell me.”
Will laughed at his exaggerated exhaustion, then apologized.
“I met somebody recently, and he’s a really cool guy.
Bit older than me, but he’s somebody I could see being with for a while,” he said.
Years, decades. Will pictured Ray glowing up with age, tattoos and all.
“He’s funny and sweet, and on our first outing for coffee he drops this fondness for kink on me. ”
Greg hummed. “Is it a dealbreaker that you have to be into it, too?”
“No, he said he was fine if we stayed vanilla. I like him, so I’m interested in learning about it from that perspective,” Will said. He watched Greg’s face as he talked, and guessed from his facial cues that he wasn’t aware that Will spoke about a co-worker from his other job.
“I’m not sure where to start, though.” The one web search Will instigated led to multiple sites which contradicted each other. Ray’s assessment of there being no one way to practice BDSM proved correct, but Will still wanted a basic primer.
Greg looked into the camera, rather than at the screen at Will, holding his attention. “How serious are you about it?” he asked.
“Why?” Suspicion gripped him, and Will’s breathing constricted.
“I’m not volunteering any services, please.
” Greg rolled his eyes and tilted his head back, braying loud.
“No, it just so happens one of my old clients runs a local club that caters to the kink community. I set up their closed-circuit cameras and security system. As thanks for my discretion, along with my payment they sent me a pair of guest passes. Good for one free visit and they don’t expire. They’re yours if you want them.”
“A sex club?” Will wouldn’t call himself a prude. He’d admit to the occasional wank to a raunchy video clip, but the idea of walking into a live porn show scandalized him. One thing to watch it on his laptop, another to sit in the same room.
“No, that’s not legal here.” Greg said. “It’s a legit private bondage club, and it’s at the beach.
They have stations for different kinds of kink play, and they hold workshops and demonstrations.
They’re nice people, too.” He turned away from the screen, as though looking for something.
“You could walk past any of the members on the street and I bet you’d never pick them out. ”
“I’m not actively looking for kinksters.
” Will thought of Ray, and realized Greg had a point.
Had he not clarified the meaning behind his tattoo, Ray might have come off to Will as a regular guy with less exciting interests.
“I’m sure these people don’t go out in public in their sexy leather underwear. ”
Greg waved a black matte postcard in front of the camera.
Will caught flashes of the gilded cursive font, but Greg’s movements blurred the words.
“The owners are this old married couple, I swear you look at them and assume they built the Pyramids,” he said.
“They run a tight ship, too. There’s no alcohol served and sex acts are prohibited on the property.
You get caught, or if you harass somebody you’re banned for life because they’re the ones who could get shut down and arrested. ”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, wow.” Greg huffed out a loud breath.
“It’s why they went all out for the custom security system, to cover their asses.
The meetings I had with them were so involved.
The handbook outlining the blue laws in this state looked like a phone book.
” He widened the space between her crooked thumb and forefinger. “That thick.”
“Phone books are a bit before my time, Greg.”
“Shut up, man,” Greg said, screwing his face at Will. After a joking command to get back to work he ended the video. A few minutes later, Will received an email with a PDF copy of the Velvet Sands guest pass. It contained a QR code for Will to show to at reception.
He stared at the jigsaw-like square for several seconds until the design blurred in his vision. A quick visit to the website revealed the club’s hours of operation. They were open tonight and Saturday, and closed until the following Friday.
Will saved the pass to his phone and resumed the project for Greg. Best to finish before checking out Velvet Sands, and best that he go tonight. If he waited until next week, he might lose his nerve.
One thought nettled in his brain. He dashed off a quick text to Greg. I want to experience this, even if I don’t participate. What if something triggers my heat? Will you come get me?
Greg’s reply came in seconds. Sure thing, I have no plans tonight. Get to a safe place and text, and I’ll come right over.
Will’s apprehension faded with that assurance. As many times as he watched erotic scenes in TV shows and films, he never suffered symptoms that sent him nesting. Nonetheless, it helped to have a plan.
He’d check out the club, watch a demonstration or two, and leave. If somebody approached him to play, he’d decline. The more he thought about it, the greater his excitement. He looked forward to exploring this Lifestyle, and Ray was worth the discovery.
What does one wear to a BDSM club?
Black, Will guessed. Leather and lace, fishnets and heavy metal jewelry.
The Velvet Sands website offered a bare bones viewing experience, lacking photos of the venue’s location or its interior.
Extensive Internet searching yielded a variety of results for Will, many of which looked contrived to him.
He studied the disparity of reviews, a one-star from last month and a five-star from last week, and laughed to himself.
“Everything is subjective,” he muttered to himself. It occurred to him, too, that the club forbade photography to preserve the privacy of its members.
After checking a few forums for first-timer etiquette tips, he settled on jeans and his black work boots and a concert tee over a black turtleneck designed to cover his gland.
He tied his hair into a ponytail and checked his appearance in his bathroom mirror before departing.
In college he donned makeup on the few occasions he hung out at bars.
Eyeliner and a touch of mascara gave him an androgynous look that caught many an Alpha’s eye and won him free drinks.
He eschewed extras tonight, however, as he wished to observe and disappear into the background.
He remembered one necessity: his extra-strength suppressants.
While the club advised all members and guests to treat others with respect, they offered no guidelines for Alphas and Omegas with regards to masking or enhancing their scents.
Will considered one point of patronizing a social venue was to attract a like-minded mate, and a BDSM club was like any other public space in that respect.
He wanted to observe tonight, nothing more, so he swallowed his medication and waited for it to take effect.