Chapter 41 Ev
FORTY-ONE
ev
“We’re really doing it this time.”
It wasn’t a question. Santos was beside me, and he looked confident and solid and not at all like it had been last time, when he might as well have been preparing for his execution.
I still dug my fingers into the leather where I held on to the sides of my seat.
We couldn’t find parking by the club this time, so we were slightly farther, but there were no people around us and, apparently, my body was in no rush to leave the safety of the car.
“You’re going to do great,” he promised.
As if that was the reason keeping me frozen to my seat. There was a bit of that; I was human, and when was the last time I’d spoken in front of more than a dozen people? Without completely fumbling and making a fool out of myself?
Had that even happened at any point in time?
But this was…them. My found family. Some took the meaning of that more literally than others, the ones who really had no biological family or contact with them, but the words still resonated with me, even when my mother had been reaching out more lately, and Santos kept insisting that she was trying, and I should give her a proper chance.
They were the people I knew I could lean on.
The people I knew were going to be there for me, and they weren’t going to laugh or mock or hold it against me if I stammered or forgot my words or made a mess of the notes I’d taken.
Even if Sergio ended up bringing a fucking banner full of glitter, it wasn’t because he was making fun of me or because he didn’t realize how hard it was for me.
Now that I thought about it, he might bring it precisely because of that. In his head, he would be taking the heat off me.
Fuck.
I should’ve texted him privately to make sure he didn’t go through with it.
It was probably too late now.
“Babes?”
“Yeah.” I gulped. This was going to be fine, banner or not. Santos was here, and he was going to help, and actually see the inside of the club for the first time. I was excited about showing the two floors to him. “Are you still sure I shouldn’t have done a slide presentation?”
“Positive.” He snorted. “I might not know as much about kink as you do, but even I know you don’t capture a kinky audience with those.”
“I don’t know.” I wrinkled my nose. “Some kinksters are real nerdy.”
I wouldn’t say it applied to us in the inner circles—maybe Cece and their pack were the nerdiest because of all the gaming—but there were so many memes, there had to be something to it.
And a high possibility that at least a few of the people attending tonight would be big into DnD campaigns and all the theoretical stuff many people bypassed.
“You’ll be fine.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true,” he countered.
Yeah, it was on me. I wouldn’t have expected him to say anything different. It didn’t mean that I had to like it, less so when I didn’t have a quick retort at the ready.
By the time I could’ve thought of something, like how he didn’t even know the people who were attending, or how I didn’t know he had one of those crystal balls that saw into the future, we were already in the club, anyway.
I had gone through the motions of changing in the locker room, and I’d even had time to show Santos around a bit.
A couple of the rooms were being used, so I didn’t show him those, but I did enough before the stomach cramps arrived.
I should’ve made those slides. They might’ve looked tacky because I hadn’t done them since I graduated, but it would’ve given me something to use as a crutch.
Something that would take the focus off me, and the corset and fishnets that were becoming my usual outfit when I was here—bar a skirt because I’d thought it would be a good idea if everyone saw my new pink cage.
If I was honest with myself, I’d wanted to show off, and I’d always felt comfortable around the club simply wearing underwear or other revealing clothes, so I had forgotten about how everything was exacerbated when I was anxious.
Anxious sounded oddly better than terrified.
“Ev, you ready?” Abel asked.
I didn’t know he was coming. I’d accepted that Sergio would be here, but I thought his Daddy was staying home.
My shoulders slumped down at the sight of him in his usual bulldog harness and dark-washed jeans. Sergio didn’t just chill because Abel was in the same room, but it was easier to calm him down.
This was fine.
I just had to repeat the mantra enough times to believe it. It had worked in the past. No reason why it wouldn’t now.
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. Abel didn’t need to be a Daddy to clearly see that I was bullshitting my way through it, but I was sure his Daddy senses, however those worked, weren’t helping my case. “Is everyone here already?”
Erika had said she’d set up the room for me, so I’d been hanging out with Santos by the main bar upstairs. The couches weren’t the most comfortable because someone just wanted them to be leather, but they were better than standing in the room while people walked in.
I wasn’t good at small talk.
“They should be,” he said. “Want me to check with Erika? She’s the one who will know.”
“It’s fine.” I would not survive him going in there for any amount of time and having to wait for a verdict, so I turned to Santos and ignored the worried look on his face. “You’re coming in?”
“I already told you I would.”
“You can change your mind.”
It was important that I reminded him, for his sake and mine, but he just rolled his eyes and pushed me to his side. Would it be acceptable if I ran the workshop from his lap?
Probably not.
I could ask Erika. If she was in a good mood, she might be open to it. I didn’t believe the others when they said she had a soft spot for me—she had a soft spot for everyone in the inner circle; she was just good at remaining stoic through it—but it might be worth a try.
Except I chickened out, and Erika just said I could ask Eli to fetch her from the office if I needed something, and she was out the door before I could unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth.
Not the best start, but at least I hadn’t tripped or done anything actively to embarrass myself yet.
The room had a makeshift stage—a slightly elevated wooden platform that was a lighter color than the rest of the flooring plan, with a microphone that I was forgoing and a couple of chairs.
I remembered Erika asked if I had a preference for a couch or chairs, but I’d thought chairs would be less intimidating.
Note to self: a couch would’ve been pretty nice.
“Uh, hi, everyone.” I thought I’d need to strain to get people’s attention, but thankfully, everyone had their eyes on me as soon as I got upstage.
It wasn’t great to slow down my heart rate, but it would’ve been worse if they had been talking among themselves and I’d felt as unseen as I always did back when presentations were part of my grade and expected of me, so…
No complaints so far. “Uh, thanks for coming. I swear I have this prepared, and I’m not just fumbling through it. ”
“You do,” Santos murmured.
I startled.
It was on me for assuming he would’ve either sat on one of the chairs, or plastered himself to the wall as the bodyguard he supposedly was on paper. Instead, I felt the warmth of his hand on my lower back, his hip touching mine.
He didn’t look worried because there were more than a dozen people staring at us, which worked ten times better to help me take a deep breath.
I had prepared for this. I got it.
Sergio sent me a quick thumbs-up from his spot in the first row.
Eli and Abel were flanking him. Cece and Rox were here, too, closer to the back. Carlos was next to Abel, arms crossed over his chest and back straight like I imagined it would be during a briefing.
Was that something people actually did?
Ugh.
Nope, not having my brain go in a thousand different tangents today.
The issue with workshops was that, at least at the beginning, they were rather boring.
I loved attending them, but I didn’t have the charisma to command a room, and Erika had made me swear that I’d focus on all the technical aspects of chastity and all the risks and precautions that had to do with cleaning up and long periods of wearing it.
Sure, it was important. I had spent days’ worth of research when I first entertained the idea, and talked with at least a dozen people, but I kind of just wanted to talk about how hot it was, and how it affected my thoughts, my stamina, and my horniness levels.
Was it practical? No. Was it going to help the people here if I just went on and on about how sometimes I was so turned on I couldn’t think, but at the same time, there were fewer distractions, and I felt calmer when I didn’t have to worry about hard-ons or giving in to desire whenever I wanted? Not really.
So I took a deep breath, and went through the minutia or how to put it on and off—because there were tutorials online, but I was more of a hands-on learner and that had been a struggle when I got my first one—and I talked about how often to clean both the device and your own dick every day, and what to watch out for.
I hadn’t had any issues, but I was aware that part of it was down to pure luck.
Sometimes, people needed longer breaks out of it, and it was okay.
I didn’t want to think about me needing them, but that was neither here nor there.
The main thing was that I got through it.
I scratched my nose a few times, and I had to reword things a couple more times because I was convinced no one understood what I was saying, but I didn’t implode.
No one started whispering and talking or looking at me with a sardonic smile or any kind of mockery.
I was just starting to breathe normally, to think that maybe the issue before had had to do with the people who had been watching and listening for every little flaw and not so much with me, when the first question came.