Turning the Tables

by Claire Thompson

  He took a deep breath, determined to hold it together in front of this stranger, however kind and well-intentioned the guy was. But then Carlo sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s hard sometimes. I know,” he said softly, as if he’d been reading Jace’s thoughts along with him. It was just the push he didn’t need, and Jace found himself careening over the edge of an emotional precipice, all vestiges of control obliterated with that single kind gesture. To his horror, he began to cry.

  Even as he sobbed, shoulders shaking, tears and snot wetting his face and hands, he knew he was overreacting, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, embarrassed that Carlo was witnessing this unmanly loss of control. “I’m sorry.”

  “Shh,” Carlo said softly as he patted Jace’s back. “It’s okay to cry. There is no shame in feelings.”

  Finally the tears slowed and Jace accepted the hand towel Carlo held out to him, using it to wipe his face. He fell back against the sofa with a sigh, managing to smile weakly at the older man. “Jesus. I don’t know what the hell happened. That was crazy.”

  Carlo shook his head. “The experience with Brandon was very intense. It lowered a shield you had erected around your feelings. This release was a good thing, Jace. It will help to wash away some of the pain you’re carrying in your heart.” He paused, and then added, “The redhead. He hurt you?”

  Jace snorted. “Yeah. I guess you could say that. It did kind of hurt to come home to find him in bed with a good friend of ours. It hurt even more to find out they’d been doing it for the past month while I was at work.” He closed his eyes, banishing the image from his mind.

  “This happened recently?”

  “Two days ago. Then today just added insult to the injury, I guess.”

  “Today?”

  Jace lifted the glass of juice and held its cool surface to his swollen eyelids. “Today I lost my job.”

  “What do you do, Jace?”

  “I’m in construction. Or I was until this morning, when my company declared bankruptcy and let all of us go without our final paycheck.”

  Carlo looked genuinely sympathetic. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Then he smiled. “Though I may have an opportunity in which you might be interested.”

  “Oh yeah? You know a crew who’s hiring in the Miami area?” Jace looked quizzically at Carlo. Unlike most of the guys who came out to the club in either jeans or leather, Carlo wore light gray trousers and an elegantly tailored darker gray blazer over a white shirt. He had the soft, smooth hands and clean, manicured nails of someone who'd never done a day’s physical labor in his life.

  Carlo shook his head, still smiling. “No, no. Nothing like that. Actually, I represent an exclusive community located on a small private island in the Florida Keys. We cater to wealthy patrons in the gay BDSM community. We offer the finest in resort living, including every possible facet of a fully integrated BDSM lifestyle. Membership is by invitation only.”

  Jace shook his head, his heart suddenly plummeting into his stomach. Had he misjudged this guy so thoroughly? “Wait—you’re not trying to sell me something, are you?”

  Carlo’s smile widened into a grin as he shook his head. “Quite the contrary, Jace. You have something I want to buy. Something my community values very highly and will pay top dollar to procure.”

  “Oh?” Jace replied, skeptical but intrigued. “And what’s that?”

  “Your submission.”

  Jace stared, wondering what Carlo’s pitch was going to be, his mind still functioning in slow motion after the whipping and the cry. Top dollar sounded good, but how did you buy someone’s submission? His gut told him he could trust Carlo, but then, his gut had told him Patrick was the love of his life, so…

  There was a soft knock at the door. “Come,” Carlo called out. The door opened and a slight man dressed in the staff uniform of black leather chaps and a codpiece held a neatly folded pile of clothing that Jace recognized as his. The man placed the clothing on a sofa beside Jace and left the room.

  When he was dressed, Jace faced Carlo expectantly, though he kept his expression neutral. “Go on. I’m listening.”

  Carlo smiled. “Club Hieròs is a community of likeminded men who live a BDSM lifestyle. We—”

  “Club Heroes?” Jace interrupted.

  Carlo shook his head. “The word is actually spelled h-i-e-r-o-s. The owner, Theon Papadopoulos, is of Greek descent and something of an historian. Hieròs Lokhos means sacred or sanctified troop in Greek. It refers to a particular group of soldiers that fought in the Theban army in Ancient Greece. They were an elite force consisting of a hundred and fifty pairs of male lovers.” Carlo shrugged. “Hence the club’s name, since our clientele is exclusively male and exclusively gay.”

  “Okay,” Jace said slowly. He’d heard of places like this, but had never personally known anyone affiliated with one.

  Carlo continued, “We have two types of residents—guests and clients. Guests sign up for the vacation experience of Club Hieròs. They have full access to all the amenities, including the use of staff subs, who cater to their every desire. Clients take things to a higher level. They also have access to our trainers—highly skilled Doms who will work hands-on with clients wishing to achieve a higher level of intensity in their personal D/s relationships, or just learn basic skills in bondage and erotic discipline. Most clients stay longer than just a week, some for as long as six months at a clip, if they wish.”

  “And I would fit in…how?”

  “You would be available as a submissive to anyone requiring your services. Your duties would include BDSM play, much like what you currently engage in at clubs like Brandon’s Lair, as well as full sexual service. You make yourself available to whoever takes a fancy to you. Of course, you would be paid handsomely for your services.”

  “So wait,” Jace said, trying to wrap his head around what Carlo was offering, conflicted about what he was hearing. “I would be like a—a prostitute? Is that even legal?”

  Carlo shook his head. “We don’t characterize it like that, any more than you might call what you did up on the stage tonight with Brandon prostitution. We’re a private club, and while men pay for membership, they are not paying for sex, not legally speaking.” As Jace tried to think these semantics through, Carlo continued in his richly accented English, “BDSM is by its nature a highly sensual experience, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I would,” Jace said. “That’s part of what makes it so powerful, I guess.”

  Carlo nodded. “Our community offers that sensual experience in a safe, luxurious environment for men serious about BDSM. The guests and clients are willing to pay top dollar for our expertise and high level of service.”

  “It definitely sounds intriguing,” Jace admitted. Especially given that I’m dead broke, he thought but didn’t add aloud. “So, where is this island, exactly?

  “It’s in the Keys. A private island not far from Key Largo. Service contracts are generally for three months and can be renegotiated at the end of that time if all parties are in agreement.”

  Jace was quiet as he pondered the possibilities. Living at some luxury resort and being paid to scene sounded like a pretty good gig, he had to admit, even if it only lasted a few months. Though he wasn’t a big fan of casual sex with strangers, he had no particular moral objection. The job sounded like a kind of extended vacation, with benefits. If the money was right, it would give him a chance to get back on his feet.

  “You mentioned I would be paid, uh, handsomely?” Jace picked up his juice glass and took a sip while he waited for Carlo’s response, trying to assume a relaxed posture he didn’t feel. In fact Carlo’s offer was spinning like a whirligig through his brain, leaving a trail of hope and yearning in its wake. He only prayed it wasn’t too good to be true.

  “You would receive seventy-five thousand dollars for the three-month term. Plus room and board and full access to all amenities on the island, of course.”

  Ja
ce choked on his juice. “What? Seventy-five thousand?” Shit, that was more than he earned in a year.

  Carlo nodded, his perfect white teeth glinting against his tan skin as he smiled. “That’s right. You would receive twenty-five thousand in advance, so you can settle any affairs before arriving, and then the last fifty upon completion of the contract.”

  What had sounded like a kind of fun vacation now sounded a whole lot more serious. That kind of money would put him way ahead of the game. He could buy a new truck, find a better place to live. He could get his general contractor license and go into business for himself. He searched Carlo’s face, looking for the catch. “That’s serious money.”

  “It is. And we expect a serious commitment in return. Between the hours of eight a.m. and midnight you will be at the beck and call of all our clients and guests, which average about thirty at any given time, as well as the trainers and other staff who may choose to use you for training purposes, or just to amuse themselves. The club has a safeword recognized by everyone on the island. The word is shark. It’s to be used very judiciously, of course, but the word no will not exist in your vocabulary. It’s a lot of work, and I’m guessing, if you meet the basic hiring requirements and decide it’s for you, that you’ll be in high demand, Jace. You’re a very attractive man, but more than that, I saw the power and passion of your submission while you were on the stage tonight. That kind of genuine passion can’t be faked. You’re the real thing. That’s what we look for. It’s what makes our community unique.”

  “Wow. I don’t know what to say,” Jace breathed. “It sounds really cool, but really intense. I honestly don’t know if I have what it takes.”

  “I understand. It’s a lot to process. I have a suggestion. Why don’t you come out to see what the community is all about? Spend a few days as our guest so you can get a sense of the place. Talk with staff, meet with Theon, immerse yourself in the lifestyle for a few days. Meanwhile, with your permission, we would do a background check on you for any convictions or outstanding warrants, that sort of thing, as well as have our on-staff physician examine you to make sure you’re in good health. If, at the end of the weekend, you and Theon agree you would be a good fit, you would sign a three-month contract, effective as soon as you’re available. How does that sound?”

  Jace stood. “So, I’m just committing right now to come out for a few days and check things out, right?” Why not? What did he have to lose?

  Carlo stood as well. “That’s right. Come see what the place is like, and we’ll go from there. I’ll just need your address so I can send my driver in the morning—say nine o’clock? We keep our yacht at Fisher Island Marina. We can head out first thing. Does that work for you?”

  Jace nodded. “Yeah, That would work.” To think, he’d started the evening wondering where his next dime would come from, his heart still broken from Patrick’s betrayal. Now a whole new world was being offered to him on a silver platter, assuming it wasn’t just some scam. He searched Carlo’s face, looking deeply into those dark, kind eyes, and knew somehow he could trust him. In that moment, he made his decision.

  He extended his hand, and Carlo took it in a firm grip. Jace grinned, feeling suddenly buoyant, as if a ten-ton weight had been lifted from his shoulders. As they shook, Jace experienced a sudden certain conviction that he was entering a new chapter in his life, as if everything leading up to this moment had just been the prologue to the real story.

  If so, he was ready. Bring it on.

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  Turning the Tables

  Games of the Heart - Book 2

  Claire Thompson

  Edited by

  Donna Fisk & Jae Ashley

  Fine Line Edit – Gabriella Wolek, Linda Marie, Janice Owen

  Cover Art by Mayhem Cover Creations

  Loosely based on the novel Safe in his Arms, vastly revised and expanded

  © Copyright 2019 Claire Thompson

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