Switching Seth

by Jamie Hill

  "Anything.” Michael settled back against the pillow.

  Seth spooned him again, slipping his arms around Michael's slim waist. “I've been thinking about this for a while. I know you won't be mad that I mentioned it, but I feel funny bringing it up."

  "Go ahead.” Michael squeezed Seth's arms under his.

  "I want to try being a Dominant."

  Michael glanced back, and, even in the darkened room, Seth could see his eyebrows rise.

  "Not dominant over you, of course,” he added quickly. “I'll always be your submissive. I guess I'd like to try being a switch."

  "Okay.” Michael's voice was smooth and silken, a sound Seth adored. It was also surprisingly calm. “Did you have someone in mind?"

  "No! Not at all. I just thought, well, you used to be a sub. You must remember what it's like, wanting to try the other side of it."

  "Of course I do. But I didn't love my Master the way I love you. I'm not against your wanting to experiment. I just don't know if I want to share you."

  "I wouldn't do it without you. You'd have to be part of it. There's no other way I'd consider it."

  "Ah. That changes things a bit. We've done ménage before."

  "I've never been the Dom."

  "That's true.” Michael reached back and stroked Seth's face. “I can't imagine you as the Dom. You're such a perfect subbie. I remember the night you sucked off a whole row of cocks at my request. I was the first—"

  "And by the time I'd finished, you were so hot, I did you again.” Seth smiled.

  Michael rolled over to face him. “Seeing you with other men does excite me. I'm just choosy about the guys we pick."

  "What if it wasn't a guy?” The idea that had been brewing slipped from Seth's lips.

  "You want to fuck a woman?” Michael's surprise was obvious.

  "Maybe.” Seth shrugged. “We'd just be playing, weekend warrior stuff. Nothing serious.” He didn't mention that the more he thought about fondling a woman's fleshy tits and ass, the more excited he became. “A woman would differentiate it from our relationship."

  "That's for fucking sure. I don't know, babe. This is so out-of-the-blue. Can I sleep on it?"

  "Of course.” Seth kissed him gently.

  Michael rolled over and pressed his ass into the curve of Seth's body, their favourite sleeping position. “A woman,” he muttered.

  Seth smiled.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Two

  Carla Nelson stared at the under-inflated tire on her sporty, black Ford Mustang. She'd stopped for fuel, but the minute she'd walked around the car she'd noticed the low tire. Damn. She had barely enough time to make her meeting as it was.

  She cocked her head sideways, trying to remember if she kept a tire gauge in her car. I suppose I could just add some air. That wasn't the smartest way to do it, and her father would have a fit if he knew. She smiled. If he found out where she was going, he'd have a bigger fit. Maybe even a heart attack.

  It was nothing to joke about, he'd already had one ‘cardiac event', and the family felt lucky he was still with them. But he'd never understand where Carla was headed or why.

  "Trouble?"

  She glanced up, embarrassed to realise she'd been staring at the tire like a helpless female for too long. The man at the fuel pump across from hers stood watching with an amused smile on his face.

  And what a face! Chiselled cheekbones and full lips were highlighted by a cleft, right smack in the middle of his chin. Drool. His brown hair was fashionably short and spiked. A small, silver loop hung from his right ear.

  Carla allowed her gaze to wander and immediately noticed his tight, black muscle shirt hid nothing. She could see the outline of another pierced hoop through his left nipple. Her pussy dampened at the sight, and she squeezed her legs together tightly.

  He was tall, at least a head taller than her, with the longest legs she'd ever seen. Her eyes settled on his tight blue jeans, bulging seductively at the crotch. She found it difficult to speak and impossible not to stare.

  He strolled around to her side of the Mustang. “That tire's pretty low. Would you like some help?"

  She hesitated, attempting to compose herself. “I, uh—I can handle it. I need to find my tire gauge."

  "I have one.” He smiled at her. “Unless you don't want the help. I wouldn't have offered, but you look so pretty in your blue dress. I'd hate for you to get it dirty."

  Glancing down, she ran a hand over her new skirt. Can he tell I just bought this, hoping to look perfect today? Of course, he couldn't. He had no idea where she was going. Sheepishly grinning, she shrugged. “I'd appreciate your help. Honestly, I'm not sure where my gauge is. I just switched handbags and I'm sure I don't have any change for the stupid air machine. Who charges for air?"

  He chuckled. “Absurd, isn't it? Especially after the price you pay for petrol. I'll take care of this. It'll just take a minute.” He went to his red convertible, reached inside the glove box and pulled out the tiny instrument she'd been lacking. He returned to her car, inserted some coins into the air pump and proceeded to fix her tire.

  Carla stood back, admiring the view as he shifted and bent. His ass was firm and tight, his backside as drool-worthy as his front. She shook her head to clear it.

  He stood, wiping his hands. “That should do it. I don't hear a leak, but keep an eye on it. If it loses air again, you should have it checked."

  The twinkle in his eyes captivated her. “Hmm? Oh, the tire. Right."

  Smiling, he walked back around to his car. “Have a nice day, now."

  "Yeah, you, too.” She continued to stare as he started his engine and shifted into gear. “Oh, thank you!"

  The man offered a small wave, and he was gone. Carla's heartbeat slowly returned to normal as she got into her car and buckled up. He was hot. Why couldn't a guy like that be interested in her? She glanced into her rear-view mirror.

  I'm not a toad. People said she was pretty. Her complexion was clear, her long, brown hair alternately straight or curly, depending on her mood. Today it was silky smooth and looked damn good in her less-than-unbiased opinion. She kept herself in decent shape, though her hourglass figure would never be considered thin. Her hips were shapely, and her stomach was a bit fleshier than she'd like. But her tits, they were nearly perfect. Large, full and round, the eye-catching globes accented her form nicely.

  Maybe this dress doesn't show enough cleavage. She'd tried to be conservative when choosing it but, on second thought, she unfastened one more button. The swell of her breasts showed over the top, and she smiled. That's better.

  Now, to find the restaurant. The Rose & Thorn Society met at different places for their monthly munches. At the meet-and-greet social, members ate, visited and got to know each other. It wasn't supposed to be a venue to search for a new partner, but Carla knew the ropes. She'd been a member in a couple of other B and D clubs and understood how these things worked. People scoped out one another at munches, especially new people. Once a month, the society had a themed play party, and she certainly wasn't going to start there, in full get-up, looking for a submissive.

  She checked the address and drove, pulling into the Magnolia restaurant car park right on time. One last glance in the mirror, and she was off. If she thought about it too much longer, she might change her mind. She'd moved to Southern California three months ago and had yet to meet a decent man, let alone one she could be herself with. The Rose & Thorn was her best shot at finding someone with the same tastes she had.

  Smoothing her skirt, slipping her handbag under her arm, she stepped into the restaurant. A sign indicated the way to the meeting room, and she followed the arrow. The medium-sized area was already filled with tables and two dozen or so people. Now what?

  Before she could decide whether to approach an empty chair at a table or just turn and leave, someone touched her arm.

  "You're kidding me, right?"

  She spun around and gazed into the same da
rk eyes that had moistened her panties a short while ago. “You?"

  He smiled. “Are you following me, or is there really a god in heaven? Is it possible you're at the right place?"

  "I'm, uh, not sure. There was a munch scheduled here today."

  His smile broadened. “If you know what a munch is, you're in the right place. Welcome to the Rose & Thorn Society. I'm Seth Carter.” He extended a hand.

  She shook it, still a bit shocked to see him again. “Carla Nelson."

  "Hi, Carla. I'm thrilled to see someone new here."

  A nice looking black man with short hair and a muscular build stood at the front of the room and waved his hands. “If everyone would find a seat, the wait staff is coming around for orders, now."

  "Keep your pants on,” Seth murmured jovially. He and Carla were the last two standing. “Come on, I have a place over here.” He glanced at her. “If you'll join me, that is."

  "Of course.” She followed him to a table near the front.

  He chose the middle of three empty chairs for himself and held out one for her.

  Carla sat, and Seth followed. She placed her handbag on the floor at her feet.

  He grinned at her again. “This is serendipity, that's what this is."

  "I guess so."

  Hell yes it is! She'd been lusting over this guy, creaming her panties, and here he was—a member of the BDSM club she was considering joining. She tried to control her breathing. A lot of strange people frequented events like this, and she really didn't know this guy. Other than the fact he wears delightfully tight jeans.

  He handed her a menu. “The grilled chicken sandwich is excellent."

  "That sounds tasty.” She set the card down and fiddled with her napkin. “I've never been here."

  "They have the best iced tea, too. They put slices of orange in it instead of lemon. It's wonderful."

  "I'd like to try that."

  A pretty, blonde-haired waitress approached them. Carla watched Seth, and while he was pleasant, he didn't check out the woman. A good sign. Men who noticed other women while with her irritated the hell out of her.

  "We'll have three grilled chicken sandwiches, please,” Seth told the waitress.

  Three?

  The blonde woman smiled at him. “Chips or crisps with those?"

  "Crisps, please. And three iced teas."

  "Gotcha. Thanks.” She winked at him.

  He smiled pleasantly and handed over their menus. The waitress moved on to the next diner at the table.

  Carla glanced at him, amused that he'd taken the liberty of ordering for her. “You must be hungry today."

  "Excuse me?” He blinked.

  "Three sandwiches?"

  He'd started to reply when they were joined by the dark-skinned man who'd made the announcement earlier. “Have we ordered yet?” The man leaned down and planted a kiss on Seth's cheek then sat in the chair next to him.

  Carla stared, attempting to hold her jaw closed.

  "Hey, babe.” Seth touched the man's hand. “Yes, we just ordered. Michael, I'd like you to meet Carla Nelson. The tire gauge woman,” he added with emphasis.

  "No way!” Michael grinned. “You're here."

  "And so are you,” she replied without much enthusiasm.

  "I'm sorry!” Seth smiled at her. “Carla, this is my husband, Michael Stone."

  The silver ring on his left hand became painfully obvious. She couldn't believe she hadn't checked there before. Now, to discover Mr. Right was not only gay, he was married. Fuck.

  Carla found her manners and extended a hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mike."

  His face clouded. “It's Michael. Nobody calls me Mike.” He cleared his throat and added, “Nice to meet you, too. Seth couldn't say enough good things about you after your first meeting. I do believe you've made his day, turning up here."

  "That's very kind.” I can't imagine why. Gay and married. The words circulated in her brain. Her heart sank into the pit of her belly. Glancing around the room, she wondered if there were any other viable prospects.

  "So, are you from California?” Michael asked.

  "Actually, I grew up in Phoenix.” She fidgeted with her water glass. “My family is still there. I moved here for work."

  "What do you do?” He glanced at her hands.

  Carla thought she saw the faintest trace of disapproval. She stopped squirming and placed both hands in her lap. “I'm a computer programmer."

  "Really?” His eyes lit up. “I'm a software engineer. I work for Biotech. How about you?"

  Do I want to tell him where I work? He seemed nice enough. He certainly managed to make a catch when he got his man. “I work for Century Systems."

  Michael nodded. “That's a good outfit. I hear their benefits are outstanding."

  Seth nudged him. “Sweetie, I doubt Carla wants to talk about insurance and sick leave. She's our guest."

  They paused when the waitress returned with tea and plates of food for the table. Carla's sandwich looked appealing. She picked it up and nibbled neatly.

  Michael scooped his sandwich up and talked as he ate. “Did Seth tell you he's an architect? He designs mostly commercial stuff. Goes right out to the job sites and oversees everything. Looks pretty sexy in a hard hat, too. Me, I wouldn't like the physical, dirty stuff. I prefer sitting behind my computer.” He stopped, smiling. “Sorry. Seth has to remind me not to monopolise the conversation."

  "That's fine.” She sipped her tea. She didn't mind hearing about Seth at all.

  Michael went on, eating as he spoke. “The Rose & Thorn Society is one of the biggest BDSM social clubs in Southern California. At last count, we had over a thousand members. Of course, the group is broken into sub-genres. This is a M.A.s.T. munch. That's Masters and slaves together."

  She nodded, trying not to feel self-conscious. “I read that on your website."

  Seth leaned close to her. “You're blushing."

  "No I'm not.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin.

  "Yes you are,” Michael said matter-of-factly, shoving the last of his sandwich into his mouth.

  "It becomes you,” Seth murmured. “Don't feel embarrassed. We're a very laid back group of people. You'll find the members friendly and supportive. After all, we have something in common. Something huge.” He grinned and took a bite. “How's your sandwich?"

  "Great, thanks.” She continued to eat gingerly.

  Michael drained his tea and set his glass down. “We have these meet and greets once a month to discuss business and socialise. The third Saturday of each month we have a play party. Sometimes it's themed. This month it's a formal."

  "Really?” She cleared her throat. “You have a space for that?"

  "Oh, yes.” Seth nodded.

  Michael interrupted. “Our dungeon is one of the finest I've ever seen. We have all the latest equipment. Of course, we practise safe, sane and consensual sex, so you don't have to worry about that. The other guidelines are pretty self-explanatory. Did you get a booklet?” He picked up one of several from the centre of the table and handed it over.

  "Not yet, thanks.” She looked at if for a moment then tucked it down next to her handbag.

  Michael and Seth watched her.

  What else should I say? She didn't consider herself a prude but wasn't used to discussing these things with strangers. Carla had finished only about half her meal but pushed her plate back. It's not hard to tell who's the Dom in their relationship. She fingered her empty tea glass then raised it, drawing a piece of ice into her mouth.

  "So,” Michael began casually, “are you a Domme or a sub?"

  The ice slid down her throat, and she choked on it, coughing into her hand.

  Seth patted her back quickly. “You all right?"

  Carla knew her eyes were wide as she nodded, trying to compose herself.

  He chuckled. “Where do you work? How's your food? Are you a Domme or a sub? Not the smoothest segue."

  Michael shrugged. “Might as well get
right to the point."

  A short, middle-aged woman in a ghastly, puce pant suit approached him from the side and spoke quietly into his ear.

  "Sure, thanks.” Michael turned back to them. “A few people need to leave, so I should make some announcements.” He stood, squeezing Seth's shoulder before he walked to the front of the room.

  Seth spoke quietly. “He's a straightforward guy."

  "That's a fact.” She settled back into her chair, more relaxed with Michael gone. He seemed nice enough but very intense—and inquisitive.

  Seth smiled. “I guess you can tell pretty easily who the Dom is in our relationship."

  "I kind of figured that out.” For one moment, she wondered how Seth really felt about his assertive partner.

  "Hey, don't look so down in the mouth! We have a great thing going. It's not a total power exchange, although sometimes I think Michael would like to give it a try. We're weekend warriors—he's only my Master when we play.” Seth's relaxed demeanour seemed to indicate he was happy with the situation.

  Carla felt a little better. “That's good.” She liked to play but couldn't imagine treating her lover like a slave all the time. The very idea of having a slave was foreign to her. She'd been submissive in her past relationships but when she'd moved she'd decided it was time for a change. New city, new attitude.

  Forcing herself to appear confident was the problem. A whip-wielding dominatrix she was not. But if she had the attitude, perhaps no one else needed to know.

  Glancing at Michael, she noticed him staring at them. Speaking from the side of her mouth, she added, “Your Master is watching us."

  "Let him watch. We're just talking.” His eyes on his husband, Seth raised his glass in a subtle toast. He sipped his tea, a devilish look on his face.

  "You're naughty.” Carla raised her eyebrows at him. “I think you might like to be punished."

  "Actually,” he turned to face her, “I'm looking to do the punishing. I'm in the market for a sub of my own."

  That'll be one fortunate guy. She raised her eyebrows. “Well, good luck with that. And say, if you find a sub that's cute and not gay, keep me in mind."