Chapter Sixteen
Memphis
Chained was the best. Not one doubt about that. And Chained with friends? Maximum awesomeness. One midweek night, Ridge and I arrived to meet Jovan, August, Bridger, and their littles in the conversation area.
Although it was not a special occasion, I’d booked a private changing room anyway, and we had a nice half hour in there before emerging to meet our friends.
The room this time was one that featured animals from all over the world with a full-wall mural that made it seem as if we were outside in some kind of a jungle where all the animals got along.
“Hurry and get changed so we can find our friends.”
Ridge bounced on the balls of his feet. “I want to go now.”
“Well, you can, but you’ll be in your jeans and sweatshirt instead of your new onesie. Didn’t you want to show your friends?”
He bobbed his head and lifted his arms so I could pull his hoodie over his head.
Sometimes, we lingered in the changing room, but tonight with everyone waiting and a very special night in the little room ahead, Ridge was all about changing quickly and meeting everyone.
“Hudson has a new onesie, too,” he said. “But it doesn’t have kitties.”
“What kind did his daddy get him?”
“Duckies. He really likes duckies but this time instead of yellow or blue, they are green.” Hudson did wear a lot of duckies.
“That sounds nice.” I helped him out of his pants and boxer-briefs and got out the outfit he’d picked out.
It was kitty-palooza. Kitty onesie, kitty shorts, knee socks.
Even the shoes had light-up cat faces on them.
So freaking cute, I could hardly stand it.
As I dressed him, he sank all the way into little space, leaning on me while I put his feet, one after the other, into the thick training pants then the shorts.
They reminded me so totally of the kitties who first brought us together.
It had taken a long time, but I’d finally met the cats across the hall and given their owner a kitty gift basket.
He didn’t understand why I was grateful, and since we didn’t know one another really at all, I didn’t get into it.
By now, he’d seen his cat sitter coming and going and probably knew we were a couple, so I told him Ridge really liked his cats and I wanted to give them a little something special.
“Come on, Daddy. Our fwiends are waiting.”
I took his hand and checked him over, making sure he was all set. “Okay, my sweet boy. It’s friend time.”
They were all seated in our favorite conversation area, the daddies on the sofas and chairs, the littles on the floor pushing around a whole bunch of cars.
Their “Beep beeps,” and “Vrooms,” drew mostly smiles from leather-clad doms on their way to the main floor where all the impact play and similar stations were set up.
Most people thought that was all a club like Chained was about, but our lifestyle encompassed a whole lot more than that.
There were puppy and kitten play people with their handlers, for example, and of course the littles and their caregivers.
Most of the time, I didn’t even notice what went on, on the main floor, although our conversation area overlooked it.
And, tonight, there was another event in the little room. Little Artists, which was a big favorite among the boys and girls. As everyone got ready to head to the little room, August asked me, in a low voice, “Do you know how much glitter there will be?”
“I haven’t heard, but if it’s art, there’s bound to be some.”
He groaned. “We’ll be combing it out of their hair for a week.”
“Most likely.” I led Ridge along behind the others on our way to the room.
They were quite an incongruous sight in their onesies and tight little tees and light-up sneakers as they passed the St. Andrew’s cross and the other dungeon furniture.
The little room was located down a hallway, but as soon as we entered it, the voices carried to us.
Yes, it would be full tonight, and I hoped our littles could get time at the various tables they wanted.
The first thing I saw when we entered was a giant tarp on the floor where several littles and their daddies were painting what looked to be some kind of a mural.
But Ridge dragged me toward the watercolors that were set up on easels off to one side.
He dropped my hand and allowed me to put an apron on him before turning him loose to express himself.
There were so many choices tonight, I never thought we’d make it through all of them, but I was fairly sure we had.
Paint, big fat triangular crayons, clay…
We wound up meeting our friends at the mystery storybook table where each little was assigned part of a story to draw and color in a page for a book being put together.
When it was done, the volunteer running the activity put it together then all the littles in the room gathered around while she “read” them the story and they all got to see each other’s pages and how they were part of the story.
It was a huge hit with lots of animals sounds that required participation and a fantastic way to end the evening.
We stopped in the changing room just long enough to put Ridge’s street clothes on over his playclothes, and he fell asleep in the car on the way to his apartment.
I guided him up the stairs, undressed him, and put him to bed, crawling in beside him and wishing he was coming to my place instead.
It was safer and less likely to break out in bugs. But he’d have to be ready. I knew I was.