Saving Graves: A Club Irons Novel

by Drew Sera

  “Yes, I’ll let the commotion die down and then I’ll give him a bath.”

  No! I didn’t want a bath from Connor. I hated when he gave me a bath. The water was always too hot.

  “What’s your name?”

  The police man was talking to me but I couldn’t answer him. I don’t know why, I just couldn’t. Connor jostled me on his lap and encouraged me to tell him my name.

  “His name is Anthony,” Connor told the officer.

  “Anthony, it’s nice to meet you. I’m officer Rawlins. How old are you?”

  Four. I was four. I held up four fingers, and the officer looked at Connor. He nodded and guided my hand back to hold my bear.

  “He’s shaking really bad. Are you sure you don’t want the paramedics to check him over?”

  “Maybe that would be a good idea,” Connor said.

  The officer left, and Connor gripped me tightly.

  “Keep calm, Anthony. The paramedics are going to look at you. Keep still, or else you might be staring down the barrel of a gun.”

  Was he going to shoot me?

  I sat very still when the police man came back outside with two other men.

  “Anthony, these guys are my friends. They’re paramedics and just want to look you over.”

  I didn’t want to take my clothes off. I wanted to say that, but I couldn’t talk. Nothing would come out.

  “Here, I brought you an honorary police badge, Anthony. And here’s one for your bear too.”

  I held my hand out and took hold of the badge. I was an honorary police man. Connor took it and carefully pinned it to my pajama shirt and then put the other one on my bear’s t-shirt. I was staring proudly at it when the other men started talking.

  “Hi, Anthony, did you hear the noise from the gun?”

  I nodded.

  “Those are pretty loud, huh?”

  I nodded.

  “Did it scare you?”

  I nodded again.

  “Sometimes loud noises, even from fireworks can make your ears hurt and sound like you’re underwater. Do your ears feel funny?”

  I nodded. He understood!

  “Your ears will get better soon. Can I listen to your heartbeat?”

  I looked up at Connor, and he nodded, so I nodded. The man held something against my chest, and I stayed as still as I could. I didn’t want him touching me and starting squirming.

  “Sit still, Anthony,” Connor said.

  Was he going to shoot me because I moved?

  “Yeah, he’s nervous and scared. Heart is pounding, and pulse is elevated,” the guy said to the other adults.

  I held my bear against my tummy while they all spoke and then they finally left. Connor carried me to the bathroom, and I started crying.

  “Fuck, Anthony. Now, what are you bitching about?”

  “I don’t want a bath,” I cried.

  I saw the steam rising from the water and knew it was going to be really hot. It would hurt my legs where Bruce hit me with the belt.

  “You need a bath, you pissed yourself.”

  What? I looked down and noticed the front of my pajama pants were all wet. I don’t even remember doing this.

  “Get your clothes off, or I’ll do it.”

  I slowly peeled my clothes off and stood shaking as the water continued to fill the tub. Connor shut the water off and looked at me. He gave me a smile that I hated and wanted to make it disappear. He gestured to the tub.

  “In you go, little baby.”

  “I’m not a baby.”

  “Babies pee in their pants. Did you pee your pants?”

  I wouldn’t look at him or move. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled across his lap and spanked me hard until I cried out. Then he picked me up by my arms and lowered me into the hot water. Water went everywhere as I splashed around trying not to get submerged in the hot water.

  “Stop! It burns, Connor!”

  “Anthony, son wake up.”

  I jerked awake and quickly realized that I was having a nightmare. Shit. I had my hand on my crotch and my other hand over my heart. And my dad saw. Fuck. I sat up slowly so he hopefully wouldn’t think that I was deeply affected by the dream. Slow movements were always best.

  It had been a number of years since my dad woke me up from the throes of a nightmare. I don’t think he was naïve enough to believe that I was no longer having them, but it was out of sight for him…until now.

  And now it seems that I haven’t progressed or moved forward, which wasn’t the case. I felt I needed to defend myself, even though he hadn’t said anything, yet.

  “Relax, Dad. I don’t have them all of the time anymore. Not like I used to.”

  “What were you dreaming about?” He paused for a moment and then reiterated, “You were begging Connor to stop. You said it burns. Were you dreaming of being burned by cigarettes?”

  I glanced at him and shook my head.

  “Water.”

  “Water. That’s right,” he said.

  Shit, I really didn’t want to talk to him about this.

  “Son, maybe you should start seeing David again.”

  I shook my head and stood.

  “Dad, I’m getting better.”

  “I know you are, and I’m proud of you. Maybe the news of your mother and Bruce caused old memories to resurface.”

  I nodded in agreement. I didn’t want to tell him about the incident with the gun when I was little, but he made talking too easy right now. I’ll admit, it was nice to have him here tonight. I sat back down and tossed some of the leftover popcorn in my mouth before I told him about the gun and mom shooting Bruce in the foot.

  “And you were right there in that room?” he asked after I told him the story.

  “I was scared…and confused. I remember barely being able to hear. It was like my ears were plugged up. Connor was being nice to me, which confused me. He took me outside, away from the gun.” I laughed and looked down at my bare feet before looking back at my dad. “I had the bear you sent me with me that night. He and I became honorary police men.” I smiled as I remembered my plastic badge. My dad wrapped his arm around me and pulled me to lean against him.

  “I’m sorry. I‘m pretty sure our conversation about Bruce shooting your mom and then himself, brought on this nightmare.”

  “Probably,” I agreed with him.

  As much as I wanted to move from this spot, I didn’t. I told myself to get up and go to my own room instead of staying with my dad. But a huge part of me loved this, and I wondered if this is what most kids got while growing up.

  Chapter Twelve

  December 1995

  I was looking over my final exam schedule as I ate a bowl of soup while standing over my sink when my phone rang. I hadn’t been home from the gym long and planned on starting my cram study session right after my shower. Setting the bowl of soup down, I reached for the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes, I’m trying to reach Mr. Anthony Graves,” a polite female said into my ear.

  “This is Anthony.”

  “Hi Mr. Graves, my name is Rochelle, and I’m calling from Club Irons in Las Vegas. There’s been a cancellation, and a guest pass is available for you this evening if you’re able to make it.”

  Fuck me. I’ve waited so long for this! I stared at my backpack with books spread out across the table. This was a once in a lifetime chance for me. I remember Roger telling me that if my time came to attend on a pass, to do what I needed to do to get there.

  “Yes, I can make it this evening.”

  “Wonderful. Doors open at 9:00 p.m. Please arrive by 8:30 to fill out some paperwork. Condoms are required for penetration by non-members and are supplied throughout the club. Do you have any questions, Mr. Graves?”

  “No, Rochelle. Thank you for calling.”

  “We’ll see you this evening Mr. Graves.”

  I clicked the portable phone off and turned to look at my backpack. I quickly found the phone number to an airline and mad
e arrangements for the next flight to Vegas. I had three hours to get to the airport and raced to my bedroom. I threw some clothes in my suitcase and tossed my books in my backpack and headed to the airport.

  Once I was checked in and seated at the gate, I called the MGM Grand and made hotel reservations for tonight. Since I still have some time to kill before the flight boarded, I pulled out the study guide for the finance class and began pouring over it. I was so eager for tonight that it was very difficult to study. But I had the final exam for my finance class bright and early Monday morning, so I had to get some studying in.

  I tucked my gray button-up shirt into my jeans and put some gel in my hair. Giving myself another once over in the mirror, I was ready. I checked my wallet for my I.D., and I headed downstairs to the cab stand. I was quiet in the cab despite the driver trying to make small talk with me. I despised forced conversation.

  We pulled up to the front of the building as I paid the cab driver. I stood on the sidewalk looking at the outside. Roger was right; that flier didn’t even do the outside justice. I went inside and was in awe at the lobby. Fuck, the lobby was incredible.

  The floors were dark hardwood, and the walls were painted a dark gray from about the five-foot mark on the wall up to the ceiling. Below that point was wood that complimented the flooring. The walls were lined with deep wood benches and hanging from the ceiling was a massive chandelier. Toward the top of the wall and going around the room, were framed pictures of kinky stuff. There was an image of a girl bound in rope, a black and white image of a girl with wax splattered on her back and the wax was burst of red color. The walls were full of images, all the same sized and all done with class. There was nothing offensive or tasteless about any of these images. On either side of the images were sconces that matched the chandelier.

  There were a handful of people mingling about in the lobby, and I made my way over to the most elaborate check-in counter I’ve seen in any of the clubs I’ve been in. And I’ve been in a lot over the past year. The man in front of me passed his bag over the counter, and one of the attendants told him that they’d take it to his locker shortly. Wow, how nice. I supposed that amenity must be included with the membership fee.

  I was next and approached the desk with my I.D. out.

  “Good evening, Mr. Graves. Welcome to Irons. Will you require a particular station or private room this evening?”

  “No, not tonight. It’s my first night. I thought I’d get my feet wet.”

  “Very well. Please fill out this info card, front and back and bring it back to me when you’re finished.”

  I took the card over to a bench and began filling it out. Most of it was pretty standard until I got to the back of the card. It asked about hard limits, soft limits, allergies, blood type, triggers and so forth. The club’s doors had already opened by the time I completed the info card and took it back to the girl behind the desk.

  As she looked it over, she put her initials on the front and back of the card and gave it to another attendant who left the room with it.

  “It’ll just be a moment or two, Mr. Graves. For all guest passes, the info cards must be signed off by either the owner or a board member.”

  Fuck, I was impressed. Usually, clubs just took my card and filed it away without so much as looking at it. Here, not only are they looking at it, but the fucking owner or a board member is too. Impressive.

  “Do you guys have a lot of guests tonight?” I asked.

  “No, Mr. Graves. Irons only permits one guest pass at a time. The owner likes to keep a good eye on who is in the club. He takes safety very seriously.”

  I nodded and gazed around at the photos that donned the walls again. The other girl finally came back and handed Rochelle my card.

  “Mr. Eriksson was in the bar and signed off,” the other girl said.

  “Thank you for your patience, Mr. Graves. Dungeon Monitors are throughout the club and are wearing red shirts with the Irons logo on the back. Enjoy your evening, Mr. Graves.”

  “Do I need a wristband or a stamp or something?”

  “No, Mr. Graves. You’re good to go. Have a great time.”

  Usually, I went home from clubs and dungeons only to have to scrub a stamp off my hand or cut a wristband off. So far, I was really impressed with this place.

  I wrapped my hand around the ornate handle on the huge wooden door and pulled it open. The scent of leather greeted me as I walked into the club. Without even going any further, I knew that I wanted to be a part of this club. Roger and Mistress Lynn were right; this place breathes a fire all on its own. I could feel it.

  I headed over to the bar and decided I’d spectate from there for a little while before roaming around. I took up a seat at the bar, and the bartender appeared in front of me.

  “Good evening, Mr. Graves. Welcome to Irons. May I get something started for you?” he asked.

  Stunned, I sat still and stared at him. How the fuck did he know my name? If the ladies at the front had given me a little name tag to wear, I’d understand it. But this made no sense to me.

  “Sorry, you have me at a disadvantage,” I said to him, hoping he’d tell me how he knew me.

  “I’m Warren.” Warren held his hand across the bar for me to shake and I stood up before shaking his hand. “All staff and board members are made aware of the guest on guest night, Mr. Graves. And tonight, that’s you.”

  Wow. I nodded my head and ordered a Coke with lots of ice. I was admiring the bar when he placed a tall glass in front of me filled to the brim with ice and Coke. I took a sip and let the carbonation dance in my mouth. Nothing like Coke from the fountain. Beats the shit out of canned or bottled Coke.

  “Mr. Graves,” Warren caught my attention again. “That section over there is where all of the unattached bottoms are. You may negotiate with any of them. They are under Irons protection.”

  “Irons protection?” I asked.

  “The owner, Mr. Eriksson and all of the Irons board members, watch out for them.”

  I nodded and looked back at the women in the section that Warren referenced. I took his words as a good warning. I didn’t need a warning though. I may be young, but I knew how to behave in these establishments. I knew the protocol.

  The main room was unlike other main rooms I’ve been in. There was a lot of intimate seating. Some areas had big, leather club chairs facing one another, while other sections had couches or love seats. It was very welcoming. Lights were a warm glow rather than fluorescent bulbs that I’ve seen in other places. There were a few locations around the main room that looked like they’d accommodate some play. The wall that faced the back of the club was floor to ceiling glass. This place was incredible.

  As I finished my Coke, another man came over and held his hand out.

  “Welcome to Irons, Mr. Graves,” the man in front of me said.

  “Thank you.” I matched the firmness of the handshake this guy was throwing down.

  “Great to meet you. I’m Paul Fielding. I’m an Irons board member.”

  “Thank you for the warm welcome. This place is pretty amazing.”

  Paul laughed and nodded.

  “It is, but you haven’t seen anything yet. Would you like a brief tour of the club before you enjoy all that the club has to offer?”

  “Please, that would be nice,” I said and followed Paul around.

  We went up a wide set of wood stairs that led to the upper level. He showed me all of the private rooms and pointed out where each room had supplies depending upon the theme of the room. Each room changed up the theme every few weeks, and they had blinds or curtains that the people could close if they wanted privacy. Otherwise, each room had a glassless window frame. I don’t know why I was surprised by the level of detail in each of these rooms, but I was.

  “Dungeon Monitors are throughout the club. On busy nights, there are at least two on this level, four outside and three to five in the dungeon,” Paul said.

  Again, I was impressed. Most of the
other clubs I’ve been to have one or at most two, monitors roaming about. We continued our tour, and Paul asked some questions as we went.

  “Have you been in the lifestyle very long?” he asked quietly as we descended the stone stairs leading to the dungeon I’ve heard so much about.

  “Few years,” I answered.

  “Do you belong to a dungeon or club currently?”

  “Yes, a few actually. I belong to two in the Bay Area and one in L.A.”

  “Do you frequent them often?”

  “Every Friday and Saturday I’m at the two in the Bay Area. Once a month though I make it down to L.A.”

  “Well, here’s our dungeon. There are eight individual cells, as we like to call them, and two large cells over my shoulder.”

  I turned to look behind us. There was a hallway just to the side of the stairs we just came down that fed into the two larger cells.

  “Sometimes classes are held in there and any collaring ceremonies.”

  “Impressive,” I mused.

  “Do you have a submissive, Anthony?” Paul asked me.

  “No, I don’t really like to be tied down.”

  Paul was quiet, and we strolled through the dungeon. I was amazed at this place. Simply amazed. And I wanted to be a member badly.

  “How does someone become a member?”

  “There are two ways: one is through the referral of an existing member, and the other is through the mentorship program.”

  “Mentorship program?”

  Paul explained that process to me, which sounded great, up until the part where he said that out of hundreds of applicants each year, they only accept five to ten.

  I was intrigued by the cable system that seemed to be overhead in each of the cells. This place had some serious money dumped into it.

  “Enjoy your evening, Anthony. If you need anything, Dungeon Monitors are in the red shirts,” Paul said before shaking my hand and leaving me alone in the expanse of the dungeon.

  I watched a few scenes in the dungeon before I decided to go find a bottom to scene with before my pass ran out tonight.