Indecision wavered across Jeff’s face, but only for a moment before his expression shut down again. “I don’t need teaching.”
“No one’s saying you need teaching.” Which was a blatant lie, but Eddie would allow the man his pride. “Just a bit of practice. Come on, no shame in that. Everyone can use a bit of practice, no matter how experienced they are. And look, there’s no need to make a decision now. My offer’s open, and if you decide you want to meet up—just to talk, if that’s what you need—then just call me. Or text. Or e-mail, whatever. I’ll send you all my contact details.”
“No point. I’m not going to change my mind.”
Ooh, he really was pigheaded! You had to love a man who stuck to his guns. Or Eddie did, at any rate. So sexy. Made him want to drop to his knees and start sucking cock.
But he wasn’t about to let Jeff know just how horny that forbidding glare made him. “Okay, I hear you, but I’m still going to send you my details. Then if you do reconsider, you’ll know how to get hold of me. Anyway, I’ll let you get back to work.” While he was tempted to stay there and bask in Jeff’s surly attitude, he knew he’d probably end up doing his cause more harm than good if he outstayed his welcome any further.
Or was it just Eddie’s cause? Now he’d actually met Jeff, Eddie kind of wanted to help him for his own sake. Jeff might put on a macho front, but there was definitely more going on beneath the surface. The way he’d looked when he was contemplating the garden revealed a man who had some artistry in his soul.
Jeff grunted something that sounded a bit like “bye,” and Eddie took it as his cue to leave, but not without throwing a “See you soon,” over his shoulder.
And so what if Jeff did mutter “not bloody likely” loud enough for Eddie to hear? The man was definitely protesting too loudly.
Chapter Four
When the text with Eddie’s contact details came through to his phone, Jeff was all set to delete it. But as his finger hovered over the screen, something stopped him.
Eddie hadn’t been anything like Jeff had expected. He wasn’t coy and mincing or in any way camp. There was no way Jeff would have known he was a bummer if it hadn’t been for Niall telling him. Made him wonder how many other gay blokes he’d met without being any the wiser. And Eddie wasn’t someone Jeff would have expected to be submissive either. He’d been confident and laid-back. Although going along to the local fetish club meetings with Niall had made him realise that subs came in all different shapes, sizes and personalities.
All that flitted through his head as his finger paused over the Delete button, and so he saved the message instead. It wasn’t like he was about to reply to it, but Eddie had seemed like a nice bloke, despite being posh as you like with his brown loafers and voice like someone off the BBC. Maybe there’d come a point when Jeff might want to meet up with him again—just to talk, of course. No funny business. It wasn’t like there were many people Jeff could talk about all this sort of thing with. Well, there was Niall, but Niall was a busy man these days, and besides, Jeff didn’t particularly enjoy admitting the extent of his ignorance and inexperience to his friend. In some ways, it might be easier to ask a near stranger all those stupid questions.
Jeff shoved his phone back in his pocket and picked up his spirit level. He didn’t have to make a decision right now. He had all the time in the world. And who’s to say there wouldn’t be someone new at the next fet club? One of these days, that perfect woman was bound to turn up, wasn’t she?
Yeah, no hurry. He could afford to wait.
Two weeks later, and Jeff headed into the Lamb and Flag in Frome, with what he hoped was an upbeat, commanding attitude. He got a pint of Guinness in and attempted to check out the fet club lot from behind the pillar without actually looking like he was doing something as lame as spying on them. They were impossible to miss. Although their Fetlife profile insisted they should dress normally and not draw attention to themselves as kinksters, you couldn’t miss them, what with all those blokes wearing long black duster coats in the middle of summer, the birds with purple hair, and that bloody teddy bear on the table. It had a studded collar on, for Christ sakes. What possessed a bunch of adults to put a teddy on their table?
More to the point, why did Jeff keep coming along to these things? He really didn’t fit in.
Then Sandi bent over the table, revealing a teasing strip of lacy stocking-top under her short leather skirt, and Jeff remembered exactly why he kept coming along. Not that he was interested in Sandi or anything she had to offer.
Sandi caught his eye. Uh-oh. He let his gaze veer off and noticed a new girl. She was pretty. Dark hair in ringlets, not too much makeup, and a fit body showcased in tight jeans and an even tighter T-shirt. She was sitting next to Maddy and looked kind of nervous, but not like a wallflower or anything. She was talking and smiling lots. Nice smile. Hmmm. Why hadn’t Niall let him know he’d found him a sub? Shame there was no space next to her.
Still, never one to let the lack of a seat thwart his intentions, Jeff set off to chat up the girl of his dreams.
Half an hour later, and Jeff still hadn’t managed to exchange more than a brief introduction with the new girl. Her name was Francine, and she was just curious, apparently, but the way she kept sending flirty glances in the direction of every other woman there had warned Jeff he was barking up the wrong tree. Maddy had confirmed it in a hushed conversation over by the bar.
“She’s a lesbian. Always has been, always will be. No point thinking you can convert her.”
“I wasn’t thinking that.” Jeff attempted to sound outraged, but Maddy just raised her eyebrows.
“Come on, every straight man thinks that, don’t they? Just like gay guys have fantasies about converting straight men. It’s human nature. The boost to your sexual prowess in turning someone’s sexuality would be off the scale.”
“What about you?” Jeff countered. “If it’s human nature, does that mean you fantasise about turning gay blokes straight? What about that friend of yours, Eddie?” He realised he’d made a mistake in mentioning Eddie when Maddy broke out in a sly smile.
“Oh, you still thinking about him, are you? You really should take him up on his offer. He’s a good bloke, and there’s nothing he doesn’t know about bondage, pain and humiliation.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Maddy took a sip of her drink and appeared to be thinking about it. “I did fancy him when I first met him, so I suppose I might have daydreamed about it then. But you know, what would be the point in me turning another submissive straight? Or bi, or whatever. Sub energy isn’t what turns me on. I’ve got enough of that myself. I need the yang to my yin. And likewise, I wouldn’t have what Eddie needs.” Her smile turned mischievous. “Whereas you have it, in spades. I’m not surprised he’s interested in training you.”
“Couldn’t you train me instead?”
Maddy shook her head. “Not going to happen. Letting someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing experiment on my body? Uh-uh. You’ll just have to find someone yourself. Maybe another dominant would do a better job.” Maddy’s eyes widened as she looked over his shoulder. “Speaking of which, hi, Sandi.”
“Well, if it isn’t my favourite switch-in-denial,” Sandi purred, sidling right up to Jeff and pinching his bum. “I’m still planning to get you into my dungeon one day. You’d look great all tied up in red rope.”
“I’ll leave you in Sandi’s capable hands, then,” Maddy said, smiling wickedly.
Bitch!
Jeff turned to face his tormentor, who was now attempting to sneak another pinch in.
He swatted her hand away. “Oi, hands off.”
“Oh come on, sweetheart. You’d make a lovely little slut. You just don’t know it yet, but once you’ve felt my heels digging into your balls you’ll know you made the right decision.”
The balls in question
attempted to climb back up inside Jeff at the very suggestion. “Is that really what you do?” he asked, curious despite himself. “Blokes want that kind of thing?”
“Absolutely.”
Jeff’s insides did something peculiar. Was that the kind of thing Eddie would be into? No, of course not. There couldn’t be many male Doms who’d wear high heels. But maybe they crushed balls in other ways. He could google it when he got home…or not.
He shouldn’t have let himself be distracted, because now he’d been trapped in the corner by Sandi, who towered over him in her ridiculously high stiletto boots. He was trying very hard to keep eye contact and not let his gaze slip down to her tempting cleavage. Wouldn’t want to give her the wrong idea.
“You really should let me tie you up sometime, sweetie. I know you don’t think you’re a sub, but trust me, I can always tell when a man wants me to dominate his arse.”
“Piss off, Sandi. Why don’t you go and chat up that new girl instead?”
“What, Francine? Nah, I’ve met her sort before. She’s not really into it. She likes the idea more than the reality. But you, on the other hand—I can tell you’re a very physical man, Jeff White. I don’t care what they say about you, you’ve got the makings of a wonderfully smart-arsed masochist.”
Jeff really hoped the barman wasn’t listening in. “I don’t enjoy pain.”
Sandi burst out laughing. She had a raucous laugh that always made people turn and look. “Sweetie, that’s what they all say, but trust me, you just need to be trained. Once you’ve had a few orgasms while in pain, you’ll start to reprogramme your body. Then you’ll start getting hard at the mere thought of being hurt.”
“What, like getting a paper cut? Never found that particularly sexy.”
Sandi cocked her head to one side. “Well, I once knew a man who wanted paper cuts to his nob, and so I said—”
“Shutupshutupshutup!” Jeff clamped his hands over his ears. “You’re one sick fucker, you know that?”
“Well, duh. Takes one to know one.” Sandi stuck her tongue out at him, and all of a sudden Jeff found himself laughing too. “That’s it. Lighten up, mate. You know I’m not seriously going to carry you off to my dungeon.”
“You really have a dungeon?”
“Yeah, well, I call it that.” Sandi grinned sheepishly, and Jeff felt himself relax further. “Actually, it’s more of a box room. The estate agent called it a second bedroom but I’ve got to take issue with that. Couldn’t get a full-sized bed in there, although a spanking bench fits just fine. And you know what, it literally is a box room most of the time. I have to keep a bunch of empty boxes stacked up in there when I’m not using it, so my mum doesn’t see all the cuffs and shit when she comes round. Always poking her nose in places she’s not wanted, that woman. She’s a bloody nightmare.”
“Why don’t you just put a lock on the door?”
“Oh, that’d be like a red rag to a bull. She’d have to know what was in there then. I’d never hear the end of it. As it is, she wants to know why I haven’t finished unpacking yet when I moved two years ago. I think she wants me to set up a nice little craft room.”
“Maybe you should. You could make it a leather-working room.”
“Hey, I like your thinking!” Sandi leaned back against the bar, and Jeff decided to perch up on the barstool. It made him a bit taller than her for a start, which was always good for the ego. “So, where do you keep all your kit?” she asked.
“In a suitcase,” he said, without thinking first how pitiful that sounded. Still, she wasn’t to know it was one of the little carry-on ones you could fit in the overhead locker of a plane. For all she knew, it was a family-size one bursting at the seams.
Sandi patted him on the back. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We’ve all got to start somewhere, haven’t we?”
Busted.
In the end, Jeff managed to have an enjoyable conversation with Sandi about her garden of all things, but as far as finding that elusive sub went, the night was a washout. But as he drove the twenty miles back to Hook St. Norton, he got to thinking about Eddie again. Maybe it wouldn’t be so weird to meet him for a chat. After all, the one with Sandi had gone all right. Perhaps he and Eddie could meet up for a drink or two and talk a bit more about pain and pleasure. After the Gwen disaster, he could do with a better understanding of what went through a submissive’s brain.
Yeah, just a drink. They could do it somewhere far enough away from Jeff’s home that there was no way he’d be tempted to invite Eddie back for a more practical demonstration. Because that wasn’t going to happen, ever. No matter how much the idea made him hot and cold all over. It wasn’t like he was uncomfortable being around naked blokes. He’d always enjoyed the whole towel-flicking locker room atmosphere after sports at school. And he had no problem checking out the erect cocks in pornos, just for comparison’s sake. But yeah, having a naked, turned-on bloke in his house just wasn’t going to happen. Not unless the bloke in question was him.
But they could talk. No harm in that.
Buoyed up by his decision, Jeff fired off a quick text asking if they could meet the following evening. His phone buzzed ten minutes later while he was making himself a cup of Ovaltine.
Sure thing, Eddie said. How about the Globetrotter in Bramble Bottom? That’s about halfway between us. I could get there at seven but would need to eat. Fancy joining me for a meal?
It was a little closer to home than Jeff might have liked, but at least he was unlikely to run into anyone he knew there, as it was a bit too swanky for most folks in Hook St. Norton. He sent back an okay and took his drink out to the garden. It wasn’t a very wide garden, as his house was a terraced two-up, two-down miner’s cottage, but he’d landscaped the downhill slope and created a different sort of area on each level. His back door led directly out onto a patio surrounded by herbs and scented plants, with a pergola and grapevine over the small table and chairs. He sat down and looked out over the moonlit valley.
Bats swooped overhead, and an owl called from somewhere in the woods down by the river. He loved this view. He’d really lucked out managing to buy this place before the property prices went mental with rich Londoners buying their second homes out here. And he’d been lucky it had just been his name on the mortgage because Sarah had still been in college when he bought the place. It had made the whole splitting-up-the-assets thing go that much smoother than it might have done, although it did now mean he had little spare income managing the repayments all by himself.
And he felt kind of lonely these days, he had to admit. Nowadays, most of the lads he’d grown up with couldn’t afford a place in the village and were moving out to cheaper towns. His own brother was moving to Trowbridge at the weekend, poor fucker. Jeff and his folks would be the only ones left in Hook St. Norton.
He looked down at their rooftop, checking that the usual lights were on. They probably didn’t need him looking out for them just yet—they were both still relatively hale and hearty, and his mum had even started doing his cleaning for him every week. He’d tried to pay her, but she insisted he couldn’t manage without a woman in his life, and if it made her feel important, he didn’t want to take that away from her.
Plus he was still confused by the washing machine.
Jeff drained the last of his drink and headed inside.
Chapter Five
It was only when he was showering after his day of sinking a pond—hard, messy work at any time of year—that Jeff realised he was going out to dinner with a man. A gay man. Shit.
Was this a date?
No, it couldn’t be. A date implied both parties were expecting sex, didn’t it? And Jeff certainly wasn’t. He stood in front of his wardrobe, wondering what would be the most off-puttingly heterosexual outfit he could wear.
A football shirt. Perfect. That definitely wasn’t date wear. Jeff teamed up his favourite Che
lsea shirt with his oldest, tattiest jeans and a pair of scuffed trainers. He definitely didn’t look like he’d made an effort.
But even he couldn’t explain just why he ran back to the bathroom to brush his teeth before he left.
He pulled up outside the Globetrotter at ten to seven. The evening was mild and still light enough to only need your sidelights on. He scanned the other cars there, wondering which was Eddie’s. Could it be the fancy little yellow Porsche? Or was he more of a Mini Cooper sort of man? Jeff’s battered old work truck stood out like a sore thumb among all the shiny new cars, but it wasn’t like he could afford to run two vehicles.
He got down from the truck and stood there, not wanting to look too keen by getting there early.
A vintage E-type Jaguar pulled in and eased into one of the last parking spaces, its shape marking it out as a different breed to the rest of the cars. Jeff was admiring the dark green paintwork when a voice rang out.
“Jeff, what are you doing loitering around in the dark?” Eddie got out of the Jag, grinning. Of course, it had to be his car, didn’t it?
“Just admiring your wheels,” Jeff said. “Must have set you back a fair bit.”
“Actually, she was a bargain. Bit of a fixer-upper, but I’ve got a friend who’s a mechanic, so she took her on as a project. Mates’ rates.”
“You’re friends with a mechanic?” You could have knocked Jeff down with a feather. Men like Eddie weren’t friends with mechanics. They hung out with other trendy city types. You only had to look at Eddie’s outfit to see that. Okay, so he was in jeans and a T-shirt too, but the royal blue T-shirt was a close fit and bore the logo of something or other—a computer game perhaps?—and the jeans had all kinds of weird shit going on that marked them out as designer. Even his neon-orange trainers were squeaky clean.
Men like Eddie didn’t hang around with grease monkeys.
“Yeah, she’s my cousin’s ex. You needn’t look so surprised. Never know when it’s going to be handy to have friends in different places, do you? I’ve been collecting them from all walks of life. It’s a bit of a hobby of mine. And now I’ve added a gardener to my collection. All I need now is a rat-catcher, and I’ll have completed the set.”
How to Train Your Dom in Five Easy Steps Page 3