For the Roses

by Tymber Dalton

  His cock throbbed in his pants as he watched a rope scene taking place on a large A-frame on the same side of the dungeon as the social area. Eliza followed his gaze and smiled.

  “That’s Scrye and his wife, June. If you’re at a one in terms of experience, on a scale of one-to-ten, they’re at about seventy-five.” She laughed. “They publish rope tutorials, and she was a competitive gymnast, so they blow the bell curve in more than one way.”

  “That’s beautiful, though.” Scrye was a large man who damn near made him look small in comparison. As he tied his wife, she stood there with her eyes closed and a blissful smile in place while he painted her with his ropes.

  “He’s amazing. If rope interests you, make sure you attend their classes and buy their books. Also, the Knotty Fun rope group that meets here every month. They’ll take anyone from beginners to experts, and there’s usually rope to borrow if you don’t have any.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” It seemed impossible to think maybe he’d one day be that good at rope.

  Then again, he never thought he’d be the kind of man he was today, especially in the wake of his accident.

  I need to get back to the gym tomorrow.

  He took breaks during bad pain flares, limiting himself to stretching and very light weights. Pushing himself only made the pain worse and last longer.

  They spent the evening talking and watching, not just in the social area, but taking Elvin over to the other side to watch Landry play. They hadn’t been kidding about the man being a sadist, to the point it was almost difficult to watch him playing with a guy. Well, difficult for him. The other four apparently had no problems watching the man play.

  Okay, I’m definitely not at that level. Not right now, anyway.

  Before Elvin left with Jackson and Noah a little after midnight, Eliza talked to him about what he saw that night.

  “I need your honest opinions,” she said. “It’ll help me when I’m putting out the word to the others.”

  “I like the idea of starting slow,” he admitted. “I’m nowhere near Landry’s speed and not sure I ever will be. I’m really curious about rope, and the forced orgasm scenes were damn hot.”

  “See? That’s excellent. I promise this gets easier to talk about the more you’re involved in it.”

  “I hope so.”

  “You did great tonight, I swear. Some people freak out and get all wide-eyed and then disappear instead of riding through their fear and exploring it more.”

  “I’m kind of freaked out but this…it feels right. Finally. I always wanted to be in charge but thought that was ‘wrong’ because it was controlling. But I don’t want to run someone’s life.”

  “Nope. It’s not wrong if your partner wants you to take control in some ways.”

  “I hope you can help me out.”

  “Hey, we have a hundred-percent track record and I’m not about to let it get busted now.” She grinned. “Doesn’t hurt that you’re a hunk, no offense.”

  “None taken. But in all of that, make sure anyone you do match me with understands discretion is important because of my job. I don’t necessarily want them knowing exactly what I do upon first meeting, but…you get the idea?”

  “Absolutely,” she said. “We grill subbies as hard as we grill Tops. We’ve weeded out a few psycho subbies, believe me. People looking for a meal-ticket instead of a relationship. You come highly vouched for already as a stable, nice guy. We’re not about to toss a sack full of crazy weasels at you, trust me.”

  * * * *

  On the ride home, Elvin mulled over everything they’d talked about, everything he’d seen.

  The feelings that had accompanied what he’d witnessed.

  How hard his cock had been for most of the evening.

  Yeah, he wanted a partner he could be himself with. Someone who would understand when he wanted to be in control. Someone who he wouldn’t feel guilty about taking charge of, someone he didn’t have to hold back with.

  He’d never been in charge with Keisha, that he now realized. And it’d been part of the problem. He’d never felt like he could take charge of her. He’d always had it in his mind that she’d married down by falling for him, reinforced when she’d left the way she had.

  After his accident and recovery, he’d tried to figure out how to wear his new “disguise” successfully. He’d had no problems interesting women in him because of his looks, but inside he was still the same uncertain man trying to untangle his feelings.

  Including his mistrust over their motives, when he wasn’t tangled all up in his own insecurities over wanting to be in control.

  BDSM made sense to him. He’d caught part of a movie—a comedy spoof, ironically—about BDSM at a friend’s house one day and it had finally clicked for him what was missing.

  Leading him to research, and leading him to eavesdrop on two fellow teachers when he’d heard them discussing authors whose names he’d seen come up repeatedly in blogs and articles when talking about realistic BDSM fiction.

  “That seemed to go well tonight,” Jackson said.

  “Yeah,” Elvin agreed. “It did. I hope Eliza’s as good as everyone thinks she is.”

  “She is,” Noah assured him. “They all are.”

  Once they’d dropped him off, Elvin headed inside. What he wanted was to do more research, hit the club’s website and FetLife accounts, find some of the people he’d met tonight and send friend requests.

  He had to start somewhere. He had to put himself out there, do the work on himself.

  Being alone sucked. He was pretty much a master of it, but it still sucked.

  Most women weren’t Keisha. Most women weren’t users and greedy and only out for themselves, and he understood that.

  Talking his heart into believing it was another thing.

  Hopefully, Eliza and the others could help him get past that.

  Chapter Six

  Next to Meredith, in her front passenger seat, sat a Viking.

  “When you said get-together, I didn’t think you meant…this.”

  Not only was Ron dressed in a tunic and breeches, he wore a leather armor vest, of sorts—he’d told her the official name for it and she’d already forgotten—and handmade leather shoes.

  A plaid wool cape lay neatly folded in the backseat, over his sword, which he’d be donning when they arrived.

  And he held a drinking horn.

  “Hey, we do things right. The place loves it when we show up. They take pictures and post on their website and everything.”

  She indicated the drinking horn. “Does this make you a horny Viking?” she snarked.

  He grinned. “Like we haven’t made those jokes countless times already.”

  “Is Florida an open-carry state for swords?”

  “As long as you keep it sheathed—and yes, jokes have already been made about that, too, thank you very much.”

  “How much do I have to behave myself tonight?” she asked. “Do I have to watch what I say?”

  “Some of them are vanilla, but kind of bawdy. There are some people in the lifestyle in the group. In fact, I think Everett and Wylie will be there tonight. You’ll really like them.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Everett’s pretty cool. He’s a blacksmith and does demos at the ren fairs, in addition to teaching us about traditional techniques. He really looks like a damn Viking. Well, he might not now. He shaves and cuts his hair after ren fair season.”

  “Is he single?”

  Ron laughed. “No, he’s married to Wylie.”

  “Double damn.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it. They’re both cuties. I’d do either of them in a heartbeat, but alas, they’re monogamous. Which, actually, so am I, meaning yet another reason I’ll never be with either of them. Le sigh.”

  “Make sure to warn me off anyone who I shouldn’t be getting to know better.”

  “I will, believe me. Off the top of my head I can’t think of anyone like that in this
group. They all seem pretty damn cool.”

  First last night at Susie’s house—which had been so much fun it had made her forget her situation—and now tonight.

  Ron was turning her into a social butterfly.

  It felt good not to be sitting around curled up in front of the TV and trying to ignore all the shit in her life. Even better, Susie, Grant, and Darryl were going to meet them at a Suncoast Society munch that coming Sunday. Susie had messaged her today that Eliza had someone she wanted Meredith to meet. Nice guy, gainfully employed, new to the lifestyle, but he identified as a Dominant.

  Couldn’t hurt to meet someone, would get her out of the house, and Ron would be with her.

  Sounded like a win across the board to her.

  The growler bar was nestled inside two storefronts in an older strip mall, flanked on either end by an independent burger joint and a Chinese restaurant, with a pizza place and a sub shop also occupying spaces in the building.

  “So what food goes best with mead?” she asked as she stood outside her car and watched Ron getting his sword and cape settled just right.

  “Mead goes with anything,” he said. “But I think we’re all going out for burgers after. We had Chinese last month. Except now we’re going back to weekly meet-ups, since our weekends are mostly free again. That means you have a standing Wednesday date with me, sweetie.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Inside, she found herself face-to-face with a flock—or gaggle or herd or melee or horde, whatever the heck they were called—of men and women in a variety of Viking gear, and one guy in a T-shirt that proudly declared his other car was a longboat.

  Ron quickly introduced her around, and she knew she’d never remember everyone’s names tonight. He led her along the grouping of tables pulled together to two empty seats and flagged down a waitress to start their tab. As Meri observed people and was drawn into conversations, she realized how comfortable this felt. Reminded her a lot of her old friends back in St. Louis, people she only saw on Facebook after their company closed.

  Two men arrived, and she suspected they were Everett and Wylie even before Ron’s hand shot up and he waved the men over.

  Sure enough, they were. Everett had gorgeous blue-green eyes and dark blond hair, and was probably three inches shorter than Ron’s six-four. He looked like a guy who spent time working with his hands, too, leanly muscled, especially his arms, right down to his callused hands. Wylie was a cutie, about five inches shorter than Everett, slim and trim, with brown hair and brown eyes. He looked a little older than Everett, too, from the fine lines around the outer edges of his eyes.

  As they sat and chatted, Ev finally asked it.

  “What do you do for a living, Meri?”

  She forced a smile, hoping it looked real. “I’m looking for a new job. One of the reasons I left St. Louis.”

  Everett’s head tipped to the side. “What kind of job?”

  “Well, I have a degree in mathematics, with a specialty in statistics and data analysis. But unfortunately, those positions aren’t a dime a dozen. So I’d be happy to take a job doing anything—”

  “That’s not physically intensive,” Ron firmly interjected.

  She glared at him, and he glared back, until she finally backed down and he took over, giving a very brief and almost not embarrassing recounting of her losing her job, and then her cancer.

  “How do you feel about office work?” Everett asked. “Can you answer phones, filing, basic bookkeeping, things like that?”

  “Sure, why?”

  “Because my boss, Leo, is losing the lady who did his bookkeeping for him. She wasn’t on-site, but he was in a car accident a while back. He hates doing the office end of it and would rather spend his time in the shop or on service calls. He wants to hire someone to staff the office full-time and handle all of that.”

  She risked a glance Ron’s way, and he eagerly nodded at her. “I could talk to him,” she said. “I need something with insurance, though. I can’t risk not having it.”

  “We have insurance. It’s probably not the world’s best insurance, but it’s better than a lot of people get, I suppose. He’s a nice guy, fair. Doesn’t blow his lid.”

  “She’ll take it,” Ron said.

  Meredith shot him a glare. “I need to talk to the guy first.”

  “Yeah, and you’ll tell him you’ll take it. You wanted a job, I trust Ev not to work for an asshole, and most importantly, I know they’ll rat you out if you try to hide something big from me again.” He stuck his tongue out at her and she realized she’d been set up.

  “You already talked to the guy, didn’t you?”

  He wrinkled his nose at her. “You can start as soon as you talk to him tomorrow, Miss Stubbornpants.” He poked her in the shoulder. “And he’s one of us, too.” He tipped his head toward Ev and Wylie and she remembered he’d said they, too, were kinksters. “Oh, FYI, you’re meeting with Leo at nine in the morning to talk salary and fill out your employment paperwork. You’re welcome.”

  She slumped back in her chair, her iced tea in hand. “Is there anything you haven’t already arranged for me?”

  “Still working on finding you a guy. Give me enough time, I’ll handle that, too.” He winked. “You’re welcome.”

  * * * *

  It was after ten when they returned home that night. Meredith carried the two sixty-four-ounce growlers of mead he’d purchased because she wasn’t sure Ron was sober enough to not drop them. He was barely able to unlock the door, and it took him two tries to punch in the correct alarm code.

  “Honey, I’m hoooome!” He unfastened his cape and let it fall to the floor behind him.

  She smiled and stepped around him to head for the kitchen. “Let me put these away and I’ll help pour you into bed.”

  “I don’t need any help,” he called out after her. She heard a clang of something hitting the floor. “Sorry,” he said. “Shhh!”

  She chuckled, knowing he wasn’t nearly as sloshed as he was pretending to be, but he lived to make her laugh.

  Because he loved her.

  “I guess it’s a good thing I can wear jeans tomorrow,” she called back, “because I have no idea where my business clothes are right now.” Ev had assured her because of what they did that she’d be able to work in shorts and T-shirts, if she wanted, although the small office area was air-conditioned.

  She at least wanted to put forth a good image tomorrow. It might not be the best job out there, or the highest-paying one, but it was a job, and it was a start.

  It also meant she could start paying her own way again and not be sponging off Ron’s love.

  After tucking the mead in the fridge, she returned to the entryway, where he was picking up his cape and the seax he’d apparently dropped, the source of the clang. She took the knife—and his sword—from him and set them safely on the dining room table.

  “You know I meant it when I said I’d take care of you, right?” he asked, sounding serious and sober. “You took care of me.”

  She sent him money once she’d graduated from college and started working. He hadn’t asked for it, but she knew he’d needed it, to help pay for schooling and living expenses. Once he’d finally been certified as an electrician he’d taken time off and flown up to St. Louis to spend a couple of days with her. Then, he’d thanked her for the help and asked her to stop sending the money because he could make it from there.

  And she’d refused to let him pay her back.

  She hugged him. “I know, but let me have my pride, huh? I know we’re both sort of living to give Mom and Dad a figurative ‘fuck you’ for what they did, but right now I’m not feeling very strong and kick-ass.”

  “Oh, Meri.” He rubbed his chin along the top of her head. “I know life feels sucky right now, believe me, but it’ll get better. You’re still in decompression mode. I wish you’d let me move you home a long time ago.”

  “I thought I’d get another job.”

  “I kno
w.”

  “And I stupidly thought maybe Peter would admit he screwed up and come crawling back to apologize.”

  “I know. And I would have literally killed him had he ever contacted you again.”

  She sighed. “I know.” She looked up at him. “We’re a pair, aren’t we?”

  “Yeah, but we’ll find the Mr. Rights for us. We just need to have patience.”

  They headed their separate ways for the night. Fortunately, she remembered to set her alarm so she could be up in plenty of time. She didn’t want to blow her first day at work by being late.

  No, it wasn’t the world’s best job, and likely wouldn’t pay a fraction as well as her previous job had paid.

  If she had insurance and could at least pay for her cellphone and her car expenses, she’d be happy to have it. In her brief time back in Sarasota, she’d already realized that jobs in her line of specialty were few and far between anyway. She’d have to take something else, maybe distantly related to her degree and work experience, to come anywhere close to her previous salary.

  At least the winters would be mild. Her first winter in St. Louis had been full of wonder at her first snowfall…

  The wonder had quickly worn off after her first ice storm, and her first experience wrecking on ice.

  This is good.

  Ron loved her and wouldn’t have gotten her this job if he didn’t think it would work out for her. He was damned good at judging people.

  Probably the reason he hadn’t liked Peter when he’d met him two Christmases ago. Although Ron had gone to great pains to not admit that to her at first, even though she’d immediately sensed it.

  In some ways, the two of them were very much like twins, highly attuned to each other.

  As she settled into bed, she tried not to think about Peter, and the accompanying rage over him leaving her.

  The abject humiliation she’d felt when his gaze had dropped to her chest.

  To what she no longer had.