13. Aspen
ASPEN
“Let’s get you comfy, pup,” I murmured as I caressed Phoenix’s face.
I was glad we’d come to the demo early. Most of the spots directly in front of the roped-off area were already claimed when Parker placed Phoenix’s pillow by our feet and fluffed it.
Deep gray, plush, and covered in velvet, it was the perfect accessory to complement the bulldog gear he’d dressed in tonight.
Forever Fabulous was run by the Lactin Brotherhood, and tonight there were a series of demonstrations planned that we’d been excited to hear about ever since Phoenix paused in front of one of the framed photographs in my study to admire the black-and-white image of an acrobat, the tip of one toe touching the top of his head, bound there in that moment by Shibari ropes.
“I wonder if it feels like being hugged,” Phoenix murmured. “Or maybe a weighted blanket, though the ropes don’t look like they’d be heavy, even wrapped around someone as many times as that looks to be. Where did you get this?”
“At Gallery 19,” I explained, and pointed him to a few of the others I’d purchased that day.
“The photographer is local, and so are the models. You might see them around the club from time to time when their Daddy brings them in, though the Shibari artist is a bit of a chaos gremlin and has the occasional meltdown.”
“Doesn’t that describe most creative people, though?” Phoenix asked. “Maybe not the chaos part, but quirky, eccentric and prone to diva-like attitudes?”
He eyed Parker when he said that, and Parker’s mouth dropped open as he pressed his hand to his heart in a melodramatic attempt at outrage.
“I am neither quirky nor eccentric.”
“No, you are chaos personified,” I said. “Or are you forgetting the pen and scrap of paper I found in my potted fern this morning?”
“I was looking for those. Tell your fern to keep her grubby fronds off my notes.”
“In defense of my fern, I’m sure it had help acquiring your errant notes.”
“Sure, defend the klepto-fern. You’ll be singing a different tune when your slipper goes missing.”
“Any fern of mine knows not to touch my footwear,” I said as I pressed my cheek against Phoenix’s chest just to feel the rumble of his laughter.
His arms closed around me, but he hadn’t moved from in front of those photos, and I was beginning to wonder if he had more than a passing interest in them.
“The Shibari artist is named Tristan, and he does demos at Forever Fabulous from time to time,” I said. “Would you like to attend the next one?”
“Definitely.”
“Have you ever been tied up before?” Parker asked, his arm wrapping around me as he joined the hug.
“Not like that,” Phoenix said. “I’ve had someone use a length of chain to pin me to a headboard. I love that shit. But that looks like it took a lot of time to do.”
“Someone add rope and a length of chain to the grocery list, please,” Parker said.
“Are you trying to freak out the cashier?” I asked.
“If that was my intention, I’d have added a lemon meringue pie, rat poison, and coffee pods to the list,” Parker said.
“W-ha…okay, the rat poison is self-explanatory, and I suppose the pie makes sense, so you have something to hide the rat poison in, but why the coffee pods?” I asked.
“Oh, no sir, that pie isn’t for ruining with any rat poison,” he declared. “That pie is to enjoy with the coffee after I’ve disposed of the body.”
“And this is why game night is so interesting with you two,” Phoenix declared.
“We aim to please,” Parker replied.
Tonight that demo Phoenix had hoped for was happening as he slid gracefully to his knees on his pillow, hands resting on his thighs, legs tucked beneath him.
I felt his shoulders relax as I rested my hand on one, Parker mirroring me on his other side.
Phoenix wasn’t the only pet in attendance, nor was he the only one wearing gear from the shop.
I recognized the pieces I’d sold and the people I’d sold them to and was beyond thrilled to see them enjoying themselves in the gear Dorian had lovingly crafted.
When the lights went low, there was a collective intake of breath as the acrobat, Zephyr, came out walking on his hands, doing a full circle around the demonstration space before landing in a full split, waving at everyone.
Phoenix added his woofs to the clapping around us, and I heard mewing nearby too and caught sight of a kitty seated on the floor, several feet away from Phoenix.
While he didn’t have a pillow, there was a blanket folded beneath his tush as he sat, stroking his tail, which lay draped across his lap.
With how many people had gathered around, it was a good idea to keep hold of it so it didn’t get stepped on.
Phoenix’s was a little stub that rested perfectly against the pillow, so no worries about his getting stepped on tonight either, though he did have longer ones we’d have to be mindful of.
The Shibari artist, Tristan, came out with far less flair but all the swagger of a man confident that he could take his time and still not lose anyone’s attention.
The raised platform at the center of the demonstration space was draped in fabric and the perfect height that Tristan wouldn’t have to bend in order to tie up Zephyr, who hopped up on the platform the moment Tristan patted it.
I was surprised when the opening notes to “Purple Rain” rolled through the space, especially when the lights created a soft lavender rain effect as Zephyr arched into the first position, one that left him resembling a scorpion.
I heard Phoenix gasp when Tristan teased Zephyr with the rope, hips swaying to the beat of the song as he moved around the table.
Knowing my pup’s background, it was easy to see why he was enthralled.
The demonstration was pure artistry, and not just the rope part either.
The dance was just as big a part of the interaction between them, as Tristan caressed Zephyr with his fingers and the tip of the ropes, waltzing them over his skin to the cadence of the music.
Tristan never spoke, while Zephyr only moved in response to a touch or gesture from his partner.
They did three intricate designs while the music shifted from Prince to Stevie Ray Vaughan, and never once did Tristan pay attention to anyone or anything besides those ropes and Zephyr. It wasn’t until Tristan had untied Zephyr the third time that Tristan finally turned and faced the audience.
“Is anyone curious enough to want a corset?” he asked, holding up a length of silver cord.
My pup’s paw shot in the air so fast he displaced my hand from his shoulder when he started waving it around and yipping.
“Okay, pup,” Tristan said, motioning him over. “But bring one of your Daddies so they can help get your chest gear off.”
“You go,” Parker said. “You’re far more familiar with how the pieces go on.”
Nodding, I slid beneath the rope with my pup at my side and took Phoenix’s harness and chest gear off when we reached the platform, while Zephyr slipped away, guided off by their Daddy.
“What’s your pup’s name?” Tristan asked.
“Phoenix.”
“Hi, Phoenix, I’m Tristan. Let’s see about making you a corset.”
“Arf! Arf!”
Phoenix wiggled his butt too and made his tail wag, while Tristan giggled and looked to me for permission to rub his head.
“It’s okay,” I told him and watched Phoenix wiggle and wag when Tristan rubbed over his headgear.
As soon as he stopped, Phoenix held still, but I watched his eyes through the slits in his gear, and when Tristan touched him with the rope for the first time, he quivered, and I saw goosebumps crop up along his forearms. His gaze went from open and curious to glazed and heavy-lidded as Tristan wove the loops up his torso.
By the time Tristan finished, Phoenix’s breathing had picked up, and he stepped into my embrace, nose running along the curve of my neck as he slowly used me to ground himself.
“I’m going to need to sign up for your next workshop,” I told Tristan as I caressed the skin between the ropes and felt him quiver.
“I’ve got one coming in three weeks. Let me get your details, and I’ll add you to the spreadsheet,” Tristan replied. “I’m holding it here so, if you’re local, you won’t have to worry about traveling.”
“We’re local,” I said as I passed him my phone.
“If he’d like, he can keep the corset on. I can show you how to untie it.”
“Yip! Yip, yip, yip!” Phoenix cried, dancing in my arms.
Phoenix hadn’t moved away from my side, not one single inch, since Tristan had finished tying his corset.
His head rocked in a slow, lazy rhythm as he rubbed his cheek against my shoulder, but when I murmured in his ear and asked him to turn around for me, he responded instantly and held completely still while Tristan showed me the knot he’d secured the corset with.
“Do I need to keep track of how long he wears it?” I asked, keeping one hand on Phoenix’s arm since I knew he enjoyed the contact.
“Yes,” Tristan said. “Has he ever worn one before?”
“No, it’s his first time.”
“Then you’ll want to take it off him in two hours or less,” Tristan explained.
Once we’d exchanged details and I’d entered the workshop information into my day planner, I set a timer to let me know when to remove the corset and ran my finger along the edge of one of the ropes, just to hear Phoenix suck in a breath and groan.
A thought hit, and I realized there might be a way to get started on my ropework without having to wait three weeks.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any books you’d recommend?” I asked.
“Several. Hang on, I have a list, let me send it to you,” Tristan said, fiddling with his phone for a moment before my phone chimed to let me know I’d received a message.
“Perfect, thank you. I can tell he enjoys having it on.”