For the Roses

by Tymber Dalton

  She really hadn’t had a choice about going to the hair stylist. Instead of her being able to spend the day unpacking like she’d planned, Ron had told her late that morning to take a shower and get ready to go, and had delivered her to the hair appointment with orders for the stylist to do whatever Meredith wanted, and he’d pay for it upon his return for her. He’d heavily hinted to the stylist that he thought Meredith would look great as a red-head, and she’d eagerly agreed.

  It wasn’t worth fighting either of them. Over the past several months, Meredith had picked up a lot of grey dishwater blonde locks in her naturally dark blonde hair. In addition, it was looking kind of muddy brown in places, where it had thinned and grown back in that shade, an effect of her cancer treatments.

  At least she hadn’t lost all of it, another thought that made her feel shallow and weirdly guilty, but there she was.

  Ron had been naturally blessed with gorgeous light strawberry blond hair that faded to yellow in the sun, especially when they were kids.

  Lucky bastard. And not a hint of grey, either, despite him being thirty-six.

  Lucky, lucky bastard.

  Combined with his blue eyes and his height, she would have eagerly done him if she wasn’t related to him and didn’t know what he looked like at four years old with his finger shoved up his nose almost to the second knuckle while mining for boogers.

  Instead of arguing and fighting Ron about it, she let him do what he wanted to do for her. It made him happy…and she had to admit the new color and long, layered style took several years off her appearance. Still long enough she could pull it back if she wanted to, but the layers now had a shape and framed her face better. Demanded the attention that used to be paid to her chest and pulled it north, away from her missing real estate, although it seemed mostly to be her who noticed that.

  She wasn’t used to guys’ eyes not immediately diving to her boobs and watching the mental bubbles form over their heads as they stared at them.

  Another way her life had changed, and she was still trying to process and adjust to it. She’d never been actively aware of how, exactly, guys reacted to and interacted with her. Not since high school. It’d become a fact of life she’d shoved to the back of her mind and didn’t pay attention to, an automatic response like breathing or yawning. She’d spent another entire life with cleavage after she’d “sprouted,” and now it was like she’d developed a cloak of invisibility or something.

  And…she realized it made her uncomfortable to realize how much she might have been relying on her looks over the years. Not even consciously, most of the time.

  Self-realizations that, when combined with finally understanding how much of her self-worth had been tied up in her physical appearance, way more than she’d first believed, made her feel even worse about herself in a variety of ways.

  Left her struggling to reconcile her life with the realizations that were forced to the front of her brain, and her now unable to avoid confronting them.

  She wasn’t “better” than other women, who she thought were superficial and spent way too much time on their appearance. She wasn’t self-aware and joyfully free from fretting about her style or looks.

  It turned out she was a judgmental, ignorant woman faced with exactly how little she’d known about herself pre-diagnosis and surgery.

  That wasn’t a realization that made her proud to admit, either.

  Working on it, now without the crushing weight of impending homelessness and possibly dying from cancer hogging her focus, would be a major part of her new life.

  She needed to rebuild herself from the ground up, starting there.

  There were several cars parked in the driveway of the house they pulled up to.

  “Still not going to tell me?”

  He grinned. “You’re about to find out.”

  “Thought you said you still had to plan it?”

  “Oh, when I said that, plans weren’t finalized yet.” He grinned again.

  It wasn’t so much a surprise party as a party whose hosts surprised her. Meredith let out squeals when her old high school friend Susie opened the door. Discovering Susie was flanked by Grant and Darryl only made it better.

  “Meri!” Susie squealed, engulfing her in a long, strong hug. “We’re so glad you’re back!”

  “Oh, my god! You’re pregnant?”

  Susie smiled and hooked a thumb at the two men. “You’ve never seen two prouder dads-to-be, so I’ll warn you now, if they offer to show you sonogram pics just say noooo.”

  The three had been seniors when she’d been a sophomore, but they’d kept in touch all through college until the inevitable drifting apart had occurred. Meredith had sort of kept in touch with them on Facebook, but she hadn’t even updated that in too damn long.

  It’d been too depressing to think about.

  After receiving hugs from Grant and Darryl, too, they all moved into the living room. “Did you say ‘dads-to-be’?” Meredith asked.

  Grant wore an evil smile. “Yeah. Ron told us you’re in the lifestyle. We’re a poly triad. Darryl’s son lives with us, but he’s out with his mom tonight, so we can talk freely. Because of Darryl’s job, we don’t advertise the full truth, obviously. They both belong to me, although Darryl’s legally married to Susie to make our lives easier, especially with Darryl’s job at the church.”

  “I’m really happy for you guys.” Even though that happiness came with envy-tinged melancholy.

  The next surprise, when they led her out onto the lanai, was a lovely, large arrangement of red and pink roses, from Ron.

  She actually had to wipe away tears as she hugged him. “Thanks, bro,” she whispered.

  “Hey, you’re worth it, and more.”

  “He hinted there was a story?” Susie gently asked.

  Meredith leaned in to smell them, gently fingering one of the buds. “Yeah.”

  “After I came out,” Ron said, “our parents disowned me and tossed me out. She was already in St. Louis at college and offered to fly me out there to live with her. I’d already accepted a job here with my roommate’s employer, though. The electrician he worked for. I worked and put myself through tech school to get certified, and have worked for them ever since. But Meri sent me roses that first weekend I was living there, because it was my birthday. It’s kind of become our thing.”

  Ron kissed the top of Meri’s head. “We’ll always have each other,” he said. “And if no one will give us flowers, then by the gods, we’ll send them to each other.”

  Susie leaned in to join their hug, sniffling back tears. “Oh, my god, that’s so sweet! And it’s not even pregnancy hormones making me cry this time!”

  The other surprise was steaks cooked on the grill, a lovely salad to go with it, a couple of growlers of mead for Meredith, Grant, and Darryl to enjoy while Ron and Susie stuck to iced tea…

  And a Publix birthday cake, marbled inside and white buttercream frosting on the outside. Her absolute favorite.

  Ron had opted for two numeric candles, 4-0, instead of forty individual ones.

  “Make a wish,” Susie said after Grant carried the lit cake out onto the lanai and set it on the table before Meredith.

  I wish I could get my shit together and meet a decent Dom who won’t be turned off by me.

  She blew the candles out.

  “Are you guys coming to the munch next Sunday?” Grant asked.

  “Yes,” Ron said.

  “No,” Meredith said at the same time, then they looked at each other.

  “Yes,” Ron repeated, an eyebrow arched.

  Meredith sighed and focused on Grant again. “I guess that’s a yes.”

  Darryl laughed. “Never argue with a Dom. You will not win.”

  “You’d think I’d have learned that by now.”

  “You know,” Susie said, “why don’t you come to gaming on Tuesday night?”

  “Gaming?”

  “Oh!” Grant beamed. “Axel has an NPC she can play.”


  “You mean D&D?”

  “Yeah,” Darryl said. “You want to talk sadistic? You’ve never seen a more sadistic fucking DM than Axel.”

  “Wait…Axel Lewis?”

  “Yeah, and Rusty and Eliza will be there, too.”

  “No, they won’t,” Susie said. “Kailey’s got a thing they’re driving up for. Eliza texted me earlier. She thought it was next week but it’s this week. She said they’d see us at the munch. We’d invited them to come tonight, but they’d already made plans and couldn’t change them.”

  “She’ll be here,” Ron told them. “Just tell me what time to have her here.”

  “Oh, you are not driving me here for gaming,” she said. “I can drive myself.”

  The eyebrow arched again. “Want to make a bet?”

  “I’ll show up, I promise.” She took another sip of mead. “Unless they want to feed me more of this, then I might need a driver.”

  “I’ll drive you and come hang out. Least I can do, so you can unwind fully. Besides, you’re my DD for Wednesday, so fair’s fair.”

  “What’s on Wednesday?” Susie asked.

  “My Viking group’s getting together at a small growler bar for a little meet-up.”

  “Man, that was fun watching you guys do combat at ren fair,” Grant said. “I’d love to see you go up against Rusty or Eliza sometime.”

  “Yeah, but they’re in a different group. We’re representing approximately 800-900 AD Vikings. Rusty and Eliza’s group is a much later time period and representing what became the English. They use different weapons and armor. Different fighting tactics. Our stuff’s heavily choreographed for the performances with the winner predetermined so we have less chance of hurting someone, and we save the skirmishes for practice and fun. Rusty’s group actually does skirmishes for points.”

  By the end of the evening, Meredith had a pleasant mead buzz going and buried her face in the middle of the roses, which she held in her lap for the ride home.

  Ron sounded amused. “Welcome home, Meri.”

  “You’re the best brother ever,” she mumbled through the flowers.

  “Lucky for you I’m your only brother.”

  “Yeah, lucky for me.” Every breath filled her lungs with the sweet floral scent. “He used to get snarky every time you’d send me flowers, or make snide comments when I’d send you some.”

  “Peter?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ron’s tone turned dark. “I should have hunted him down and cleaved him. I have an actual axe. I could do it.”

  “No, you can’t. And shouldn’t.”

  “Those are two drastically different words, Meri. I can, and I should.”

  “Then who’d take care of me?” She finally let the tears flow that she’d been holding on to all night. “I’m never going to forget this. I owe you so much…”

  He reached over and gently squeezed her hand. “Meri, I love you. You’re my sister. You’ve always had my back, just like I’m always going to have yours. This is what we do.”

  “This isn’t how I thought my life would go. I thought I’d be retiring from the company in a couple of decades, thought I’d have a guy by now, maybe a couple of kids…” She tried to disguise her sniffles by burying her face in the flowers again and knew it wasn’t fooling him in the slightest.

  “Yeah, well, I thought we’d have parents who would love me regardless of who I was, not toss me out on my ass at eighteen. All we can do is play the hand we’re dealt, as stupid as that sounds. Honestly? I’m better off now. I got my electrician’s training and my contractor certification. I make decent money doing what I do, and I enjoy doing it. I have a house, my car’s paid off—and now I have you back. And you’re alive,” he gently added. “Promise me you’ll never hide something big like that from me ever again.”

  “I promise.”

  When they pulled into his driveway, he took the flowers from her so she didn’t drop the vase. She was walking a little…crooked. The mead had hit her hard, especially the last glass, and she leaned against him as he unlocked the front door and let her in.

  “I’ll go back out and get the cake,” he said.

  “We had cake left over?”

  He smirked. “Yes, Little Miss Can’t Hold Her Mead, we had cake left. I put it in the trunk so you didn’t face-plant in it on the way home. Go on to bed.” He kissed her forehead and set the flowers on the dining room table. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Thank you. For tonight and for the hair. This was a great party.” Her birthday was actually Thursday, but this was even better.

  “Hey, you deserved it. Go on to bed.”

  She ignored the boxes in the dining room and turned to head down the hall. They could wait until tomorrow.

  He was right—the important thing was she was back with Ron, and she had landed in her safety net. She could…breathe.

  As long as she didn’t sit there frozen with fear, and she started moving forward, everything didn’t have to be handled in the next day or two. Seeing Susie, Grant, and Darryl’s easy dynamic and being able to sit and just catch up with them hammered home how much had been missing from her life—

  Friends.

  Fellowship.

  Family.

  Perhaps as she rebuilt her life she needed to keep those three things at the forefront of her mind instead of going after what she thought she “should” have.

  Chapter Five

  Come Saturday evening, Elvin felt glad he’d agreed to letting Noah and Jackson pick him up. By then, much of his initial excitement had waned, replaced by old fears and feelings of shortcomings. He probably would have cancelled if he thought Jackson would let him get away with it.

  Elvin had been to Sigalo’s a couple of times. Not a super-pricey place, and good food that didn’t taste like it came out of a can. He was, however, a little disappointed to realize the gorgeous sister with the golden skin and blue eyes wasn’t interested in him because not only did she have a girlfriend, but she was also a Top.

  Jackson introduced Elvin to everyone, and they all acted as friendly and inviting as the group had last night. Rusty and Eliza arrived not long after, and the five of them sat together, at one end of the grouped tables, so they could more easily talk together.

  “So let me warn you in advance,” Eliza started, “that tonight will simultaneously be more mundane and weirder than anything you’ve ever seen before.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “It just is. I mean, you’ll probably see a wide variety of play styles, everything from fluffy-bunny to hard-core, and everything in between. Keep in mind that what you see on porn and on FetLife is often produced content, not real-life. Your main job right now is to keep an open mind, learn, and remember that you are not required to do anything except figure out what lights your fire. Just because someone else is hard-core doesn’t mean you have to be.”

  “Sounds fair enough.”

  “Take me for example. I’m not a heavy sadist.” Rusty snorted, but Eliza ignored him and continued. “He, however, is a heavy masochist. What you see of us playing is just a fraction of our dynamic. I give him what he needs, and what I’m comfortable giving him. In return, he gives me what I need as a Dominant and as his wife.

  “Now, Landry down there”—she pointed—“that man is an unabashedly heavy sadist. One of his regular partners isn’t a masochist, but he is a slave and likes to obey, so he will take a heavy amount of play to get the mental fix he needs, if that makes sense.”

  “Not really, but I’m listenin’.”

  “You will have to figure out what kind of Dominant you want to be. It can fluctuate and change the more you learn about the lifestyle and yourself. You might find you like being a sadist, or that you’re a Daddy Dom, or—”

  “A what?”

  “Kind of a playful dynamic, less sadist and serious, more about obedience and sensual play, usually. Although the styles can overlap. You can be a Daddy Dom in some circumstances, and a heavy
sadistic Top in others, depending on your partner. You might find you like being a rope rigger. There’s a huge buffet of things to choose from, and your only limits are not causing harm to your partner, and heeding their hard limits.”

  That all sounded logical and made sense to him. “I know I want to start out slow.”

  “And that’s one of the reasons I’m happy to represent you as one of the Frightful Five.” She smiled. “Because you’re a smart and reasonable man.”

  * * * *

  Elvin nervously followed Jackson and Noah into Venture’s office. Dinner had been nice, and he’d finally relaxed halfway through it when he realized he didn’t recognize anyone else from work—or parents—in the group or in the restaurant. Even if he had casually encountered someone, their group didn’t have signs on their tables reading Here Sit Kinky Freaks, or anything like that.

  They were just a group of people having dinner together.

  He had his driver’s license and cash ready when they stepped up to the counter. They gave him a form to fill out and took his license to check him against the national database of sex offenders, then turned him loose with Eliza and Rusty for the couple to go through the rules and protocols with him inside.

  When they stepped into the club’s interior—no, it wasn’t what he’d expected at all. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, maybe some really dark and foreboding cavern. Or something richly appointed, like in the few books he’d read.

  The warehouse space was painted to look like it had rock walls, and the overhead fluorescents were turned off, leaving mood lighting in its place. Plenty to see by, but dim enough to make it feel cozy despite the high ceilings.

  Eliza walked him around the space, explaining not just the rules, but the equipment and some of the scenes currently going on.

  He found it…almost overwhelming.

  They finished back in the social area, where Eliza and Rusty sat with them at one of the tables so she could talk to him more.

  “Keep in mind that communication is key,” she said. “Talk to a potential play partner. Be honest about your experience, ask them what they want. Start slow. Heck, bare-handed spanking is always safe. Don’t try to take on a scene that’s above your comfort level or above your training. And keep in mind that some bottoms are willing to teach a new Top, too.”