They made their way down a set of crumbling concrete stairs, blocked at the bottom by a heavy metal door. Hank rapped on the door and, after a moment, it was pulled open by a big guy with lots of tattoos. He wasn’t quite as tall as Avery, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in girth.
He greeted Hank with a clap on the back. “Twice in one week, huh? Zach’s here. He couldn’t stop babbling about you.”
Hank glanced nervously at Avery. “He’s putting way too much into it. It was just a stupid scene.” He turned again to Avery with pleading eyes. “Just a stupid scene,” he muttered. “Meant less than nothing.”
That was interesting. Hank hadn’t mentioned going to the club. Avery wasn’t thrilled to think of him scening with someone else at a place like this, but then, it wasn’t like they were officially a couple or anything.
“Discount on the cover charge tonight because of the sale. Half off,” Jack said, looking curiously from Hank to Avery. “You guys here together?”
“Yeah,” Hank replied. Before Avery could get to his own wallet, Hank pulled out his and extracted a wad of bills, which he thrust toward Jack. “I got this,” he said.
Jack nodded and took the money. Then he turned his gaze again to Avery with a gap-toothed leer. “And who is this gorgeous teddy bear of a man? I haven’t seen you around before. I would definitely remember.”
“No,” Avery agreed. “This is my first time here.”
“Is this your new sub boy, Sir Henry?” Jack asked, elbowing Hank in the ribs.
“Sir Henry?” Avery mouthed softly, lifting his brows toward Hank in question. As he’d suspected Hank might, he was holding onto his Dom persona when out in public.
Hank shrugged, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
“I’m Avery,” Avery said to rescue Hank from his obvious discomfiture. He stuck out his hand and the man grasped it in a bone-crushing grip.
“I’m Jack. Hank knows the rules. No exchange of bodily fluids. But anything else, and I mean anything, is fine with us.” He fixed Hank with a sudden, hard look. “Play it cool tonight, okay, buddy? We could get shut down for that shit you pulled the other night.”
“Of course,” Hank said brusquely, studiously avoiding eye contact with Avery. “A one-time thing. Won’t happen again.”
“Good to hear.” Jack plucked a flyer from a stack on the counter. “Don’t forget. Fab gear sale and demo going on right now at the back of the club. Have fun.”
They stepped into the dim room. The smell of leather, sweat, and clashing colognes was thick in the air. The walls were painted a deep, blood red and some kind of punk rock with a pulsing, insistent beat played from speakers hung around the ceiling. Men were everywhere, some naked, many in leather and chain.
The unmistakable waft of alcohol assailed Avery’s nostrils, reminding him that Hank, too, had a flask on him. “They sell booze here?” he asked, surprised. The few BDSM clubs he’d visited in his life had been dry, since whips and whiskey were never a good combination.
“Not officially, but no one cares if you take a nip now and then, as long as you don’t make it too obvious.” Hank pulled out his flask. Uncapping it, he took a long swig and then held it out to Avery.
“Want some? It’s a very fine Scottish single malt.”
“No thanks.” Avery put his arm around Hank and steered him into a relatively quiet corner. “Hey, what was all that about? What did Jack mean about the shit you pulled? And who’s Zach?”
“What is this, an official interrogation? I was here earlier in the week. So what? I scened with this dude and things got…a little out of control. That’s all,” Hank retorted, his tone defensive. “It’s not like you were available, with all your damn jobs.”
Avery said nothing, but just gazed into Hank’s eyes, calling him silently back. As he watched him, Hank looked away and then back again, the belligerence falling away from his face. “I’m sorry. I’ve had a rough week. Coming to the club was just a way to blow off some steam. I, uh…I got some bad news. There’s a small, uh, financial issue I’m dealing with.” He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. “Maybe it’s not so small. I don’t know.”
“That doesn’t sound good. What’s going on?”
“Nothing that won’t get sorted out soon,” Hank said a little too stridently, as if he was trying to convince not Avery, but himself. “Let’s just drop it, okay? I really don’t want to talk about it.”
Recognizing this dark, pulsing sex club wasn’t the right venue for a serious discussion, Avery replied, “Okay, sure. Later. Let’s go see what’s for sale.”
They made their way past various scenes in progress, including a naked guy suspended upside down by his ankles from sturdy chains attached to a beam. He was being whipped and fondled by four other guys, all covered in black leather from head to toe. The sound of snapping whips, the rain of leather against skin and the grunting cries of men could be heard over the background music’s relentless beat. The sexual energy in the room was palpable.
Several couples were making out along the edges of the room. One guy was on his knees with another’s cock down his throat, despite Jack’s admonition about no exchange of bodily fluids. There were small crowds around each scene station watching the varied action, many of them with their hands in their pants, a glazed look on their faces. The place reeked of lust and desperation.
A young man wearing only cowboy chaps and a codpiece, small silver barbells glinting at his nipples, appeared suddenly in front of them. Dropping to his knees in front of Hank, he wrapped his arms around Hank’s legs and gazed adoringly up at him. “Oh, Sir Henry, I’ve missed you so!”
Hank flashed an agonized look at Avery and then glared down at the young man. “Stop it, Zach. I’m not your Master. We did a scene. That’s all. End of story.” He pried Zach’s arms away and took a step back. “Anyway, I’m here with someone. Can’t you see that?”
Zach glanced up at Avery as if seeing him for the first time. He frowned. “Is he your new sub boy? No fair.” The boy stuck out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout. Then he brightened. “You could scene with both of us, like we used to with…” He trailed off, looking suddenly uncertain.
Avery extended his hand, pulling the guy to his feet. “Not tonight, Zach,” he said firmly, echoing Hank, who was looking supremely uncomfortable. “We’re here for the impact gear demo. Maybe another time.”
Zach pouted a moment longer and then shrugged. “Whatever,” he said huffily, tossing his head. Turning on his heel, he strode away.
Avery lifted his brows at Hank. “Things are getting curiouser and curiouser.”
“It’s not what it looks like,” Hank blurted, his agitation palpable. “Zach’s a total drama queen. I told you—we did a scene, that’s all. It meant absolutely nothing to me. It was a mistake.”
“Okay. No big deal. Look, you want to give this a miss? I don’t need—“
“No,” Hank interrupted. “Please. I’m sorry about all that. I used to hang out here a lot. I don’t anymore. Let’s just go look at the whips we came to see, okay? Please?”
“Sure.”
They moved through the room, weaving their way toward the back of the space, where tables had been set up with gear laid out for sale. A guy, presumably Sir Anthony, stood on a raised stage nearby holding out a beautifully crafted flogger as he talked about its merits. A handsome, dark-skinned man wearing only a white leather jockstrap stood beside him.
They watched the whip master flog his partner with graceful expertise, the leather thongs snapping pleasingly against the man’s reddening skin. In spite of the unappealing surroundings, Avery’s body responded on a primal level to the scene, his cock hardening.
When the demo was over, they turned toward the tables. As Avery examined the various whips and floggers, all of which carried hefty price tags, Hank said, “Let me explain. I was feeling really on edge the other night, and sometimes coming to the club is like a relief valve. Just to let off some steam. I did a scene wit
h Zach. It went kind of haywire. It was a mistake. I’m so used to being the Dom, but it didn’t feel right anymore. Everything is just so… confusing. I’m not sure what I am when I’m with you. I’m not sure what I want to be.”
“That’s okay, Hank,” Avery said, smiling, glad Hank was being honest at last. “Don’t stress over it. Just let yourself be. You’re a multifaceted guy, and we’re just exploring a new facet, is all.” He picked up a beautiful heavy flogger with dozens of soft suede tresses and ran his fingers lovingly through them.
“Yeah. That’s what I am,” Hank said with a grin. “Who needs labels anyway, right?”
“Exactly,” Avery agreed. He held out the flogger for Hank to see. It had been dyed a deep, royal blue. The knotting and braiding detail was exquisite, the flogger clearly made from the finest leather. “What do you think of this? The handle is perfectly weighted and the leather is top quality. I’ve been in the market for a new flogger.”
“It’s sexy,” Hank said, taking the flogger from Avery’s hand and snapping it expertly in the air.
Avery took Hank’s chin in his hand, tilting his face up as he gazed down into the younger man’s dark, brooding eyes. “This flogger will be just for you. No one else will feel the sting of its kiss but you.”
Hank stared back at him, something softening in his expression.
“I thought that was you,” someone exclaimed. They turned to see a tall, thin man dressed in a white lab coat with a stethoscope around his neck. He appeared to be naked beneath the open coat. He clapped Hank on the shoulder. “My boy said he saw you with a big sexy bear.” The man’s gaze fell on Avery, his eyes narrowing. “Ah. You must be the bear. Do you belong to Sir Henry, or are you up for grabs? I’d love to chain you to my medical table and give you a thorough exam.” He grinned lasciviously.
“Sorry, Doc,” Hank interjected. “We’re not playing tonight.” He held up the flogger. “We’re buying new gear.”
Doc pursed his lips. “Don’t be spoilsports. You’re here. Let’s do a scene. We’ll truss this boy up and give him a thorough working over. My slave will assist. I have a private room reserved.”
Hank glanced at Avery, who shook his head. “Not tonight,” Hank said to the guy. “My… my Dom just wants to buy a new flogger,” he added in a sudden rush of breath.
Avery glanced in pleased surprise at Hank, who was now blushing crimson.
Doc raised his eyebrows, his mouth falling open in obvious confusion. “Your what? Did I hear you correctly? Sir Henry has been claimed at last? The leopard has changed its spots?”
Hank swallowed visibly, his mouth working, though no words managed to come through.
Avery put his arm around Hank and smiled at the man. “You heard correctly. Hank belongs to me, and we’re not up for a scene tonight. So sorry.”
After the guy had melted away, Avery took the flogger from Hank’s hands. “I’m proud of you, Hank. I know that took courage. Submissive courage.”
Hank smiled up at him. “I did good, huh?”
“You did,” Avery agreed. “Now. I’m going to buy this flogger and take it home to use on your hot little ass.”
“Oh, no you’re not,” Hank said, grabbing the flogger back before Avery realized what he was doing. “I’m getting this. It’s my gift to you.” He pulled out his wallet and removed a black American Express card. He handed it over the table to the waiting vendor, along with the flogger. “We’ll take this one, please.”
“An excellent choice,” the vendor said. He swiped the card and handed it back to Hank, who returned it to his wallet. The vendor wrapped the flogger in tissue paper and slid it into a brown paper bag with handles.
“Here you go, Sir,” Hank said, handing Avery the bag with a flourish.
~*~
They were quiet on the drive back to Hank’s place. He was glad he’d insisted on buying the flogger. Avery might be the Dom, but Hank still controlled the purse strings—at least for now. And Gardner couldn’t be right. His dad would get out of this jam, and things would go back to how they were.
He stole a glance at Avery, whose eyes were on the road. That had been incredibly awkward back at the club. Hank had been mortified when Zach showed up and did his usual histrionic fawning. Fortunately, he was able to explain, and Avery hadn’t seemed upset.
But it had been a mistake to bring Avery to his old stomping grounds. Hank had suddenly seen himself through Avery’s eyes, and he hadn’t liked what he’d seen. He was just another posturing, swaggering Dom—a player at a club of players.
But Avery, being Avery, had somehow made it all okay. Hank had never been with someone who was so nonjudgmental and accepting. What Hank had first confused for weakness, he was coming to understand was actually strength—a quiet, understated but undeniable strength.
Hank leaned back in his seat. This old Subaru must be at least ten years old, with its faded paint job and worn leather seats. Until he’d met Avery, Hank wouldn’t have been caught dead inside such a vehicle. But since it was Avery’s, and since this amazing, unusual man had somehow decided he liked Hank enough to keep coming around, Hank was glad enough to be in the passenger seat.
He desperately didn’t want to fuck up whatever it was that was happening between them. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t entirely sure where he stood. Since Avery had first appeared at his door, Hank had been on unsure ground, careening from confusion to exhilaration and back again.
Hank was used to having the upper hand. He should have had it with Avery, but it hadn’t worked out that way. The guy wasn’t even embarrassed to be employed as a sex worker, or by the fact that he lived in the top of an old warehouse. He seemed to take everything in stride.
He wasn’t classically handsome. His nose was too big, for one thing. And those clothes! Yet something about him was powerfully attractive. He had lovely green eyes, and when he smiled and laughed, joy radiated from his being. His big, strong fuzzy-bear body was both a turn-on and a safe haven, especially when Avery held him so close in his arms. What Hank had initially assumed was gut on the big guy was all muscle. He was tall and strong and sexy as hell. But it was more than that. His strength didn’t just come from his muscles and height. Avery seemed so comfortable in own his skin, and that in itself was very powerful, somehow. Hank had never met anyone like him.
He never knew what to expect with the man. Every time they got together, Avery had thrown him for a loop in one way or another. As if Hank were an onion, Avery was slowly peeling away one layer after the after. The process both terrified and thrilled Hank. He felt more alive than he ever had in his life.
He was almost happy.
If only his father hadn’t fucked everything up. Hank did a mental calculation of his finances, such as they were now. He still had his own bank account, and his Am Ex card. But without the monthly infusion of income, how would he pay off the card? He put thousands of dollars on it each month. What the fuck was he supposed to do without his allowance? How would he live? What the hell was he going to do?
He drew in a deep breath, urging himself to remain calm. Even if he didn’t own the cars or the house, he owned the things inside of it. He had quite a few pieces of good art. He would take them to a reputable auction house to get some immediate cash while he figured out what to do next. He’d call his mom, Sandra, in the morning to get the real story. He’d need to call early, before the gin and tonics started flowing and her mind became vague.
“A penny for your thoughts.” Avery’s deep, rumbly voice pulled Hank from his reverie.
“Huh?” Hank turned to look at Avery, whose eyes were on the road. Though it wasn’t even Halloween yet, a light snow fell, the fat flakes melting as they hit the warm windshield. They’d left their jackets in the car when entering the club, and Hank reached for his now, pulling it around his shoulders.
“You just seem kind of distracted,” Avery said. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Hank lied reflexively, not wanting
to appear vulnerable. Why was he lying? Avery was so honest in everything he did. In the brief time they’d known each other, he had never judged Hank, even when he’d been acting like a total dick, as he had the first time they’d met.
He blew out a breath and started again. “Actually, it’s something. Something pretty big and hairy,” he admitted. “My dad is in some kind of trouble with the IRS. Apparently, his assets have been frozen.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Avery said sympathetically. “But how does that affect you?” He glanced at Hank curiously.
“I don’t really get it myself,” Hank said miserably. “But the trust that pays my monthly allowance is revocable, apparently, which means he can basically dissolve it at any time and that seems to be what he’s done while he’s scrabbling to fix his mess.” Tears of helpless fury pricked Hank’s eyelids. He blinked them angrily away.
“Wait a minute,” Avery said, glancing sharply at Hank. “Are you saying you’ve been living off some kind of trust fund all your life?”
Hank’s face heated and he looked away. For some reason, around Avery he felt embarrassed because his family was rich, which was nuts. Having wealth didn’t make you a bad person. He’d always been extremely proud to be one of the one percent.
“So, what of it?” he retorted. “Am I supposed to feel bad because my family is wealthy?”
“No, not at all,” Avery said calmly, unperturbed. He placed a comforting hand on Hank’s thigh. “It just sounds like things are kind of a mess for you right now, that’s all. You’re going to need to rethink your choices.”
“I’ll be fine,” Hank said quickly. He shouldn’t have said anything. How could a working-class guy like Avery possibly understand? “Like I said before, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” Avery said. “Not a problem.”
Hank was determined to forget about the stupid money issues and enjoy what was left of their night together. He reached into the bag at his feet and pulled the flogger from its tissue paper wrapping. He placed it on his lap and stroked the tangled tresses into smooth lines along his thigh. He glanced again at Avery and then back at the flogger. Was he really going to let Avery use it on him?
Turning the Tables Page 10