CHAPTER 2 DEREK
DEREK
“Where the fuck is Neil?” barked Derek.
He was in no mood for any shit from his staff today. He saw himself as a fairly laid-back boss, always willing to be flexible, and he paid them well, but when they took the piss, the old corporate lawyer came out.
“Not heard from him,” said Omar, their newest recruit.
Omar had made a great start in his first bar job.
If there was a rush at the bar, he could handle it with no problems, which was impressive since he’d only been here for three months.
The challenge was when one of the customers came on to him.
There were rules and lines, but a flirty comment was the norm here, especially with someone who looked like Omar.
He was twenty-two years old, short, with a slight build, and his features were almost feminine with how delicate they were, so he attracted a lot of attention.
If a customer tried to touch any of the staff without permission, though, they’d get marched out the door and banned.
But if Omar couldn’t handle “Whisky and Coke, handsome” without getting flustered, then he shouldn’t be working in a gay bar, let alone The Back Room, which was effectively a sex club.
Neil was his assistant manager and the complete opposite of Omar.
He didn’t just flirt back at the customers; Derek had found him coming out of the back rooms with a big grin on his face, usually followed by some twink hobbling behind him looking happily defiled.
Derek was all for people enjoying the facilities on offer, but not when they were on the clock.
The problem with Neil was that when he was here, the guy was brilliant.
He took a lot of pressure off Derek by managing the rotas, dealing with suppliers, and all the operational crap that came with running a club.
After his second divorce, Derek had quit his job as a corporate lawyer, where he was earning a quarter of a million a year plus bonuses.
His best friend, Edward, had described it as a midlife crisis.
Derek was just done with getting rich from making other white men even richer than himself.
He felt as though there was no purpose in it anymore.
He went travelling, fucking his way across every continent, and he meant every continent; the scientist in Antarctica had been a screamer.
When Derek had returned home, he’d bought a run-down gay bar and turned it into The Back Room.
There was a cabaret bar on the street level, where they held drag shows, and that had a local pub feel to it.
The place opened in the late afternoon, and they got people who came in after work since they were based in King’s Cross.
It was downstairs that people really came for, though.
The club area itself wasn’t large and could hold a hundred people before it got too busy, but people didn’t come for the club – the labyrinth was where the fun happened.
There were six private rooms that people could use to fuck in, or whatever else they wanted to do.
They were well stocked with supplies. They then had two walls.
One had all glory holes, and there was always someone on their knees just waiting for a dick to suck.
On the other side, were the “pizza ovens,” as people referred to them.
They had a mechanism which allowed a person to lie in a bent-over position with their arse at the perfect height for someone to fuck them.
Given how they were positioned, they’d have no idea who it was.
They were more popular than Derek had predicted, and he’d doubled the number of ovens from two to four a year ago.
In the far corner of the labyrinth was the “spotlight,” so called because it was the only part of the labyrinth that had any form of lighting, and it housed a sling for people to lie in and be defiled with an audience.
There were also several corners for people to fuck strangers if the rooms weren’t available, or if they preferred being out in the open in the hope a third or fifth would join them.
Derek loved the space he’d created here.
This wasn’t a BDSM club with people putting on shows and catering to those sorts of kinks.
It was simply a safe space where people could fuck without judgement.
Because despite how much more open people were with their sexual expression these days, it was still taboo to tell your friends you were happy to take ten dicks in a night without a condom and not know who any of the people were.
Even the most open-minded allies would clutch their pearls at what went on in this place.
There was a solid community of regulars, and many visitors who were curious or had heard about it from their friends.
People had made trips to London just to visit The Back Room, which was flattering.
Despite being the owner of this place, Derek had never indulged in using the facilities himself.
That was a hard line for him. His staff were welcome to do what they wanted, though, as long as they weren’t on the clock, which brought his thoughts back to Neil.
“I’ll check upstairs and call him,” said Derek. “Are you okay to finish setting up, Omar? I’ll be down here with you by the time we open.”
Omar nodded, but Derek noticed the relieved expression in his eyes.
Derek wasn’t about to leave the guy to man the bar on his own.
Besides, it was the place Derek loved working the most – talking to customers, listening to their stories, and watching them leave with smiles on their faces.
Sometimes it was a grimace, but for all the right reasons.
First, he had to find out where his assistant manager had gone.
“Why haven’t you sacked him?” asked Edward.
“Because he’s brilliant when he’s there,” said Derek, but he was starting to wonder whether that balanced out his unreliability the more it happened.
They were at Knights Corner, a new queer restaurant bar in the city.
It was around the corner from where they had once both worked in law.
Now, Derek owned a sex club, and Edward was the deputy prime minister of the UK.
Since Edward had been outed, he’d become more comfortable being seen in queer venues.
He didn’t visit The Back Room anymore, but that was understandable.
Before it had all been secret, so he could scratch an itch in one of the rooms. Now he had Milo, and his best friend was all loved up.
“You need to get someone else. I thought buying that place was supposed to give you something to do without being stressful,” said Edward.
“You know me, Eddie. I get bored easily. I need something to occupy my time.”
His friend snorted. “Maybe you need to find someone to occupy your time as well.”
“No thanks. I don’t need any more divorces, thanks.”
“Your last divorce was ten years ago, and I’m not suggesting you marry anyone, but it wouldn’t hurt for you to go on some dates.”
“Are you going to do that annoying friend thing where you persist in trying to impose your heteronormative relationship onto us free spirits?”
“There’s nothing heteronormative about me and Milo.”
Realising what he’d said, Edward blushed, and Derek chuckled.
“I need more details.”
“Absolutely not. Someone might be listening. The last thing I need is more invasion by the press into my private life.”
“I know that was a shitty time, but most of the public agreed it was a gross invasion of privacy, regardless of your sexuality. It almost makes me have faith in humanity again.”
“Now that’s going too far.”
They both laughed.
“I forgot to say, there’s a slight change of plan for London Pride,” said Edward. “The Mayor of London has asked me to lead the march with him.”
“Wow! Aren’t you mortal enemies or something?”
“We can be from different political parties and still have common interests, you know.”
“That sounds far too reasonable for politics.”
“When did you become such an old cynic?”
“Who are you calling old?”
“Okay, serious hat on now. I’m worried about you. I know the last divorce took a lot out of you, but you love having someone to look after and care about. You need someone, Derek. I hate seeing you unhappy.”
“Leave it, Eddie. There is nothing missing from my life. You know it’s better to just focus on the business. Even if I were to form a relationship again, how am I going to find someone of any gender who’s compatible with me?”
“We all have our quirks, Derek. Look at me, and I found Milo.”
Derek chuckled. If you looked at Milo and Edward, you’d think you would understand their dynamic, but you’d be very wrong.
Derek was different, though, in what he liked.
He could be vanilla, but it never quite satisfied him in the same way.
He needed to dominate someone sexually and then care for them afterwards.
It wasn’t an easy combination to find. Well, it hadn’t been for him anyway.
“Who’s going to be there on Saturday?” asked Derek, moving the conversation away from his sex life.
“Milo’s flatmates – well, two of them – and his friend Lexie.”
“Ah, yes. You told me about her.”
“Amazing woman.”
“She sounds it, and hot, based on the picture you showed me.”
“Please don’t fuck Milo’s friends. That would be awkward.”
Derek had no intention of fucking any of Milo’s friends. He had plenty of people he could call on if he needed to empty his balls, but he could still mess with his best friend.
“It wouldn’t be awkward for me. They might struggle with walking the next day, but that usually passes within forty-eight hours.”
Edward blushed and looked around, worried someone might have heard them. He hadn’t been out of the closet for long, so understandable.
“I don’t think you’d be compatible with Milo’s friends,” Edward whispered.
Derek chuckled. “My tastes are varied. You know that.”
“Please . . . just be careful tomorrow. The press will be there.”