Ask DNA

by Tymber Dalton

  “You’re not weird.”

  Obviously, if forced to, Davis could unbuckle his seat belt, unlock the door, open it, and get out.

  There was nothing physically holding him in place, except the memory of his mother’s stern lectures when Davis was four and several times had tried to open the car door while the car was moving before she shrilly screamed it at him, her terrified tone piercing through his consciousness in a way that her words had not.

  What she hadn’t realized was that one of her twin sons was not only at the far end of the bell curve in terms of challenges, but had totally blown same said bell curve out of the water. Problems with attention, back then, had eventually been overcome with a lot of hard work on both his part and that of his parents and teachers.

  Unfortunately, embedded in his brain were a few key lessons.

  To willfully override that lesson would…it was the mental equivalent of accidentally getting a touch of 110v current directly from a wall socket. Uncomfortable until the stimulus disappeared.

  That was the best way he had to explain it.

  * * * *

  Kirby knew exactly what was going on. In his own terrified brain, he was trying to goad Davis into doing something very Davis-ish so Kirby could call it all off, chicken out, leave, and yet lay the blame on Davis.

  Who probably wouldn’t argue with him about it, even if he didn’t agree with the assessment.

  That damn sure wasn’t fair to Davis who, admittedly, was being extremely good-natured about this whole crazy plan in the first place.

  Yeah, his mother was right when she’d once accused him in high school of frequently using Davis deliberately or subconsciously as a crutch or a scapegoat to get out of things or to avoid uncomfortable social situations.

  Here he was an adult and still doing it.

  He finally shut the engine off but he didn’t move.

  Davis noticed.

  “Are we going in?”

  “Yes, Davis, we’re going in.”

  “If you’re so nervous about this, why are you putting yourself through it?”

  “Because sometimes I need to force myself to do uncomfortable things to make myself grow.”

  Davis stared out the windshield for a moment. “That makes sense.”

  “Good. Then explain it to me.”

  It’d been a rhetorical statement, but Davis answered anyway.

  “I tend to avoid unnecessary change, because I’m busy enough as it is to spend extra time pushing myself like that. Unless there’s a specific reason I need to press forward with whatever it is.”

  “Like getting out of cars.”

  “Exactly, but you will have to admit it is a valid safety concern.”

  “If only Mom had screamed at you like that about cleaning your room. It’d save us a cleaning service expense every week.”

  “Thank you. That’s exactly what I’ve thought all of these years.”

  When he glanced at Davis, his brother still stared out the windshield, but the corner of his mouth was turned up in a half smile.

  That was the Davis equivalent of open mic night at a comedy club.

  Davis wasn’t through, though. He thought for a moment. “Then again, I don’t regret that she worked so hard with me on socialization. It seems a fair trade-off, all things considered.”

  Kirby took a deep breath and finally led the way inside after locking the car. The details for the class said beginners were welcomed, and if you didn’t have any rope of your own, there would be some to borrow, or you could buy some there. He was hoping to buy some of his own because this really was something he wanted to do.

  In the office, a young woman smiled at them as they walked up to the counter.

  “Hi! Are you here for the rope class?”

  Kirby opted to take point. “Yes, we’ve never been here before. What do we have to do?”

  “I need to see your photo IDs, and I need you to fill out and sign these forms.” She handed them two clipboards of forms and Kirby’s heart fell. They’d be here all afternoon at that rate, because Davis would, no doubt, read every word.

  Kirby had skimmed through the liability waiver and quickly signed it, only filling in the very basic info that was required.

  Meanwhile, Davis had taken a seat and was, of course, analyzing the entire four-page document.

  Kirby returned the form to the woman and leaned in. “He’s my brother. Can you send him in after he deconstructs that, please? Fair warning, he’s kind of…pedantic.”

  She smiled. “Sure.” He handed his credit card over to pay the membership fee, and then she returned it and his driver’s license after she had him plugged into the system.

  “They’re going to start in a few minutes,” she told Kirby. “The main list of rules is over there”—she pointed to a bulletin board—“but before you come back for your first play session, let us know so one of our volunteers can go over everything with you.”

  “Thanks.” He walked over to Davis. “I’m going in.”

  Davis didn’t even look up from the clipboard. “I assumed so. I’ll be in shortly.”

  Kirby dropped his voice. “Please don’t piss anyone off about the form. Everyone signs it.”

  “I’m sure they do. I still want to read it.”

  Hoping they didn’t throw him out, too, Kirby headed inside.

  There were already about twenty people gathered around a large red, metal A-frame. Taking a deep breath, he opted to walk over to a guy who appeared to be the instructor, based on where his duffle bags were located right in the middle of the space under the A-frame. He was a huge, towering man, probably appearing even more so because of the petite woman standing next to him.

  “Hi. I’m totally new. Are you Scrye?”

  He turned and gave him a friendly smile, sticking his hand out. “Yep, that’s me.”

  “Kirby. I messaged you about the class.”

  “Yes. Do you have rope, or do you need to borrow some?”

  “I’ll need to borrow some, but you said I could purchase some?”

  “Absolutely. Do you want the starter kit? I have some pre-dyed ones to choose from.”

  “Yes, thanks.” The woman produced a cell phone with a Square reader hooked up to it and stickers covering the front and back cameras. Ten minutes later, Kirby was the proud owner of several hundred feet of royal blue rope, pre-cut and finished in several commonly used lengths, as well as two of the couple’s instructional books. They’d also given him a cloth Publix bag to carry it all in as part of the purchase.

  He settled into a spot on the floor and off to the side where he could start paging through the books until the class started.

  * * * *

  Mel followed her friends inside and handed over her license when told, filled out her paperwork, and paid the membership fee to join, plus the fee for the class. There was a guy sitting in one of the chairs and intently studying the membership form, apparently line-by-line. Dark brown hair, she couldn’t tell what color his eyes were from that angle, but there was something intense about his expression.

  Apparently her friends didn’t know him, because they didn’t speak to him as they headed inside and Mel followed. They immediately introduced her to Scrye and June, who’d be teaching today’s class.

  “Actually, we have another newbie here today,” Scrye told them, pointing toward a man sitting off to the side by himself. He had his nose buried in the book in his lap, and for some reason his manner vaguely reminded her of the guy sitting out in the office.

  Scrye walked them over and introduced them. Kirby Silva had gorgeous blue eyes and brown hair that was slightly curly. Mel imagined if he let his short hair grow longer, it’d probably be a mass of curls.

  “No pressure, Mel,” Scrye said, “but if you two wanted to partner up, that’d be perfect.”

  “We can sit here with you,” Cole assured her, meeting her gaze. An unspoken “we’ll be your wingmen-slash-bodyguard” statement if she ever heard one.
/>   Kim smiled at her, nodding eagerly.

  “Okay, thank you. That’d be nice.”

  She was going to follow this “trust her friends” route unless or until they let her down.

  They couldn’t do any worse than she had.

  Chapter Five

  There were still three minutes left before the class started when Davis finally finished reading the document and signed it. When he returned it to the woman at the counter and paid his fee, he glanced over a shelf of items for sale and realized some were books. The woman behind the counter was nice-looking, but there wasn’t anything distinctive about her to pull at him to want to pay more attention to her instead of other things.

  “What are those about?” he asked, pointing at the books.

  “One of our members is an author,” she said. “She writes very accurate BDSM romances based on real-life. They’re not like some fiction books out there. It’s fiction, but it could really happen the way she’s written it. We frequently point newbies to her books as a starting point because the information is accessible and makes sense to people new to the lifestyle.”

  “Really? Interesting.” He glanced at the book spines before he pulled out his Kindle and looked up her pen name. She had dozens of titles. “What book would I start with?” He handed the woman his Kindle.

  She looked a little confused at first, but scrolled until she found the start of the series. “There. The series is listed on each book listing.”

  “Thank you.” He quickly one-clicked the first three books in the series. It looked like there were over thirty books so far, if the listing was complete. Normally, that wasn’t his preferred genre, but he was looking at this day as educational. “I can read this in there, can’t I? This doesn’t have a camera on it.”

  “Yes, but aren’t you here for the class?”

  “I’m here for my brother. We’re going out to eat later.”

  “Oh. Well, I don’t feel right charging you for the class if you’re not participating.”

  “That’s all right. I don’t mind paying for it. I might learn something from it. I’d rather pay, thank you.”

  She shrugged. “Cool. So why did you join?”

  “Because I was attending the class with him and he joined. I don’t know if I’ll be back with him another time, but it’s easier to do it now.”

  She cocked her head, an expression he was used to receiving from people who were apparently puzzled by his logic. “I mean, if you’re only here for him, why are you here?”

  Davis knew she wouldn’t get his humor, but it secretly pleased him. “He’s not very good with people sometimes. I’m here for moral support. Then we’re going out to dinner later.”

  “Oh. That’s very nice of you.”

  “He’s my brother. He puts up with me as much as I put up with him.”

  “Well, enjoy your reading. Feel free to sit on one of the sofas, or in the social area where the chairs are. Help yourself to sodas or water or coffee inside in the kitchen area. Those are free.”

  “Thanks.”

  He headed inside and noticed Kirby was already talking to the group of people who’d come in while he was filling out his form. Rather than disturb his brother and be accused later of cock-blocking, Davis immediately gravitated toward an empty table to the back of the social area. He could still see and hear the class, but they wouldn’t disturb his reading.

  A large man Davis assumed was the teacher broke away and walked over, extending his hand. “Hi. I’m Scrye. I’m the teacher.”

  Davis forced himself to shake with him. “Hi. Davis. I’m Kirby’s brother. I’m just here for him.”

  “Oh.” Scrye glanced to where Kirby was and then back to him. “You’re not here for the class?”

  “We’re going out to dinner later. It was easier to come with him. But I paid for the class.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. You didn’t have to pay if you’re not here for the class.”

  It was interesting how they weren’t focused on money. “It’s all right. I don’t mind. He’s a little nervous in new settings.”

  Inwardly, Davis giggled, knowing Kirby would have rolled his eyes and immediately protested at that.

  But Kirby was currently talking to a woman with red hair, and from his brother’s body language Davis guessed Kirby was already attracted to her.

  Therefore, he wasn’t paying a damn bit of attention to Davis, for which Davis was extremely grateful.

  “Well, if you change your mind, feel free to join us.”

  “Thank you. I’ll just listen while I read.”

  Scrye finally left him alone and Davis pulled up the first book in the series. Not what he’d thought he’d be reading today, but if his brother was interested in this, and there was an author who was a member here who wrote fictional stories about it, maybe it would help him better understand this and more effectively support Kirby in his journey.

  Despite what Kirby sometimes thought, Davis did try. He understood his own limitations, but when he could, he did his best to educate himself so he could empathize with others and understand what they were doing or going through.

  If this was something his brother wanted to do, the least Davis could do was inform himself and not inadvertently do something that would cause his brother discomfort. Davis got it. He wasn’t the easiest person to live with. It wasn’t that he couldn’t feel emotions—he absolutely did. Sometimes even more intensely because he couldn’t freely vent them the way Kirby could. They had to sit and settle for a while so he could look at them carefully before they abated, something that sometimes even the most well-meaning of neurotypicals could fail to understand.

  * * * *

  Kirby had noted Davis’ entry, but, thankfully, he headed straight to one of the tables and sat down without even acknowledging him.

  Good thing, too, because he didn’t want to pull his attention from Mel.

  Melanie Hill had beautiful red hair she’d pulled back into a short ponytail, and green eyes he already felt himself getting lost in.

  Shit. Calm yourself, dude. You’ll fucking scare her.

  And based on Davis’ behavior so far, he wouldn’t even be able to blame his brother for scaring her off.

  At thirty-six she was five years younger than him, and about six inches shorter than his own five eleven. A little on the slender side without verging into angularly skinny, which he wasn’t attracted to.

  “I should go change,” she said, indicating a bag she had with her.

  “I’ll go with you,” her friend Kim said.

  The women headed toward the bathrooms.

  Kirby was still a little confused about the men’s relationship to the women. “I’m sorry if this is rude, but—”

  “We’re married,” Mason said, pointing to Cole, “and Kim’s our slave-slash-girlfriend-slash-pet. It’s complicated.” He smiled. “We consider her our wife, even though we legally can’t marry her. Long story.”

  “Mel is Kim’s best friend,” Cole added. “She’s new, so we brought her with us today to let her meet people and not worry about her safety.”

  “Oh. That’s cool.”

  “So what do you do for a living?” Mason asked.

  Cole stared at Mason as he laughed. “Dude. That was sooo not subtle.”

  Mason shrugged. “I’ll play bad Dom. You can be good Dom.”

  Kirby couldn’t help but laugh. Compared to Davis’ usually placid wall, these two were like a comedy act. “I’m gainfully employed as a civil engineer.” He pointed over at Davis. “That’s my twin brother. Fraternal twins. He’s…not antisocial, but he’s only here because we’re going to dinner later.”

  “You’re coming to Sigalo’s with everyone?” Cole asked.

  “Sigalo’s?”

  Mason shot Cole a look, but apparently the cat had escaped. “A group of us usually hits Sigalo’s on Saturday nights for dinner. Sometimes we come back to the club to play after.”

  “Oh. If it’s
a private thing, that’s okay. We wouldn’t want to intrude. It’s a long story, but Davis and I live together. He’s a chemist. He’s…” He sighed. “It’s complicated.”

  Mason’s gaze narrowed. “Are you single?”

  “Yes. We both are. It was easier for the two of us to live together. We always have. He relies on me for some things.”

  The men’s expressions seemed to soften. “Health issues?” Cole asked.

  “Not exactly.” He bit the bullet. Dropping his voice, he said, “You ever watch The Big Bang Theory?” The men nodded. “Well, that’s not even close to accurate, but the easiest way for me to explain it is I’m Leonard to his Sheldon. If you didn’t know Davis, you’d think he was kind of aloof. But he struggles in some ways and I help him decode things he doesn’t understand.”

  “Ahh,” they both said.

  “Yeah. Like I said, that show’s a horrible example to use to explain us, but it’s the easiest and fastest way. Just…please don’t tell him I said that, because he hates it when I explain it like that.”

  “Gotcha,” Mason said. Kirby knew he didn’t imagine that both men had visibly relaxed.

  The women returned, Mel wearing form-fitting long shorts and a sports bra.

  “Okay, that’s more comfy,” she said, giving him a bright smile.

  Kirby felt his cock trying to thicken in his jeans, which made him decidedly less comfy.

  And he sure as hell didn’t mind.

  * * * *

  “He’s kind of cute,” Kim whispered to Mel as they’d headed to the bathroom.

  “You’re supposed to be my voice of reason.”

  “I’m reasonably sure he’s kind of cute.”

  Mel thought so, too, but she wasn’t going to rush this. “Remember, I’m putting myself in your hands. I admit it. I suck at picking guys.”

  “I know. Just saying. If I get a creeper vibe from him, I’ll let you know.”

  When they’d returned Cole had given her a smile and a thumbs up so that Kirby couldn’t see him do it. Then they all settled in to listen and watch Scrye and June teach. The woman had stripped completely naked for the class and frequently cracked the students up by making faces behind Scrye’s back.