Landry and Tilly were married, and it wasn’t until Shayla was able to talk with them for a few minutes that she was able to clarify Cris’ place in their dynamic as an equal partner. Sully, who walked with a noticeable limp and used a cane, was married to Clarisse, although they were also apparently equal partners with Mac.
She filed those factoids away for future reference. She’d need an entire article dedicated just to poly dynamics to cover it properly. Even then she wasn’t sure she could do it justice.
Hell, it’s confusing enough trying to figure it out when the people are sitting right here talking with me.
By the time they finished dinner over an hour later, she realized all of these people were ones she could easily be friends with. They had widely varying interests. Sully, Mac, and Clarisse, who revealed they were expecting a baby in November, owned a boat and ran dive and fishing charters. Apparently more as a hobby than anything because Sully, a retired cop, was also a published and successful author and seminar teacher. Seth and Leah managed properties, but before that, Seth had attended nursing school. Both Seth and Mac were former military, although Seth seemed more open to talking about that part of his life than Mac.
“Would you be willing to let me interview you for my article?” Shayla asked them.
She noticed how both Mac and Clarisse looked to Sully for their answer. When he nodded, so did they. “We probably should do it tonight,” Sully suggested. “Maybe at the club after we play. Unless you want to do it over the phone or come up to Tarpon Springs.”
“Tonight would be great, thank you.”
Ross owned his own business, and Loren was usually a stay-at-home wife, although she helped Ross out sometimes. Loren, Leah, and Tilly were heavily involved volunteers and event organizers for local charities. Landry and Cris ran a software firm.
“But my main job,” Tilly, also a former nurse, said, “is keeping my two men in line.”
For some reason, that elicited a round of hearty laughs from all at the table and prompted Loren to lean in and say, “I’ll tell you later.”
These people weren’t sexual predators or weirdoes or people on the fringes of average society.
They were everyday people. Hardworking people. Respectable people with responsibilities and who not only contributed to society, but to their communities as well.
Nice people.
What she wished she could ignore was how quickly she felt comfortable talking with Tony.
Why would he be interested in me?
She discounted the thought. He was a handsome and apparently well-off man who likely had his pick of women. Why even set myself up for disappointment?
When the checks were settled, Tony turned to Shayla with a smile that nearly dampened her panties. “Ready to dive headfirst through the rabbit hole, Alice?”
She swallowed hard and nodded.
Chapter Six
During dinner, the sun had dropped into the Gulf. The last vestiges of purple light struggled to maintain a tenuous grasp on the landscape despite the holes being punched into the deep shadows here and there by streetlamps. For the return drive to the dungeon, Tony once again insisted on sitting in the backseat with Shayla. In the darkened interior of the car, she felt safer looking at his face, comforted by the illusion of insulation provided by the shadows.
He was a man who smiled readily, the corners of his eyes marked with lines attesting to that fact. He listened intently when people spoke, and had a warm laugh that he shared with friendly ease.
He also didn’t strike her as a man who demanded other people defer to him, or who was an attention whore. He seemed relaxed, settled in his place in the conversation and holding his own when the situation allowed, but also content to sit back and listen to others.
He wasn’t a pushy, overbearing, arrogant idiot. She didn’t know what he was like with a submissive, but he certainly was blowing her preconceived notions out of the water even better than her earlier conversation with Loren and Ross. Sure, it was fine to find a couple who were happy doing…this, but Tony seemed the kind of man to validate their claims that the average person in “the lifestyle” was just that—an average person. From what little time she’d spent with him, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy.
And other than his earlier question about what her boyfriend might think of her outing, he hadn’t approached discussing anything personal about her other than how long she’d been in Florida, how she liked it there, and questions about her job.
In fact, he stayed remarkably clear of any kind of personal questions.
Then again, maybe he’s just not interested in me. She knew he was single, because Loren, Tilly, and Leah had all, at some point during the dinner conversation, made mention of it to Shayla.
If Shayla didn’t know any better, she’d think the women were trying to hook them up together.
There were considerably more cars in the parking lot when they pulled in and parked. Before emerging from the car, Loren asked, “Did you bring your toybag, Tony?”
“It’s in my trunk. But I doubt I’m playing tonight.”
“Could you bring it in and show Shayla the ropes?” She giggled.
He arched an eyebrow at her. “Ha, ha. Like I haven’t heard that one a million times.” His light tone belied his words. “And no, I don’t mind bringing it in.”
“If it’s going to be trouble,” Shayla said, “it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”
They climbed out. “No, no trouble. I’m just parked over there.”
She waited with Loren near the club’s door for Ross to get their things from the trunk of their car while Tony removed a large, black rolling suitcase from the trunk of his. Inside, since they already had Shayla’s information on file, she didn’t have to fill out another form.
She discovered however that entry wasn’t guaranteed as she pulled out a twenty and prepared to hand it over.
A different woman manned the front desk. She was older, with closely cropped blonde hair, a black corset squeezing her ample breasts up and nearly out of the confining garment, and had freshly lacquered, deep red nails and makeup done to perfection. Shayla felt frumpy just looking at her.
“I see you’re not a member yet,” the woman observed as she looked Shayla up on the computer. “Who is your sponsor?”
“Um, sponsor?”
“Yes. You can’t become a member without a sponsor. Classes are open to the public, but to come to play sessions you have to be a member.”
Loren and Ross had both started to speak up when Tony stepped forward. “I’m her sponsor.”
The woman’s carefully plucked eyebrows sailed skyward. “Really? I was under the impression Valerie was here with you tonight.”
From somewhere behind them Shayla thought she heard Leah mutter, “Crap,” before she darted through the doorway into the play area.
Before Shayla could process that, her attention immediately returned to Tony and the Hydra at the desk. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone.
“Unless I personally tell you someone is with me, Lydia,” he said, “you do not assume anything. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
The woman’s eyes widened. Shayla wanted to laugh as she watched the woman swallow, suddenly not as sure of herself as she was a moment earlier. “Yeah. Uh, sorry.”
He straightened and handed her a twenty of his own. “You’ll see I have three membership credits on my account. Apply one to Shayla for her membership. And since this is her first play session, I believe she gets in free tonight. Correct?”
The woman’s red lacquered nails flew across the keyboard. “Yep, sure, you’re right. Sorry, Tony. I didn’t mean to… I just thought—”
“Are we done here?” he asked.
She blinked up at him. “Yes. Of course. No problem. Go on in. Have a good night.”
Shayla still stood there, trying to process what had just happened, the twenty for her fee still clutched in her fingers. Tony grabbed the handle of
his rolling bag with one hand and with the other gently caught her elbow and propelled her along with him.
“I’ll explain inside,” he softly whispered in her ear. They headed to the door, which he grabbed first and held open for her.
Upon walking through the door, the music, barely noticeable in the well-insulated office, soared to near anti-conversational levels. At least twenty-five people were scattered throughout the large space, some at the tables and some near equipment.
He steered her toward an alcove where several couches were grouped. “Sorry about that,” he said.
Shayla began to wonder if she’d liked Tony too soon. I should have Do Not Trust People tattooed on my wrist as a reminder. “What the heck was her problem? And I take it Valerie is a girlfriend of yours?” At that moment she spotted Leah speaking with a woman on the far side of the club.
“No, she’s not a girlfriend. I just met her this week at dinner at Leah and Seth’s house. But Lydia, the lady out on the desk tonight, is a self-appointed social director with a huge-ass chip on her shoulder when it comes to single submissive women.”
“Huh?”
“She got burned big-time by an asshole. Now she’s hypervigilant about anyone she worries might get taken advantage of. Including inserting her nose into business where it not only doesn’t belong and wasn’t invited, but, as in this case, with completely wrong assumptions.”
Leah was leading the woman over to where Tony and Shayla stood. Shayla thought Leah looked extremely relieved and wondered what piece of the puzzle was glaringly missing from the picture.
“Shayla, this is my friend Valerie.”
The woman’s warm smile certainly looked genuine. When she extended her hand to Shayla, her grip felt friendly.
“Hi,” Valerie said. “Nice to meet you.” She offered Tony an apologetic smile. “Honestly, all I told Lydia was that you said you might be here tonight. I swear I didn’t tell her we were playing together or anything else.”
Tony dismissed her apology with a wave. “It’s okay. I put her in her place. Again. I’m going to have a talk with Derrick this week about permanently taking her off desk duty. She needs to get her head on straight. She’s going to piss off the wrong person some night and get her ass kicked.”
“She needs to get her head out of her ass is what she needs to do,” Valerie said. She returned her attention to Shayla. “Seriously, everything’s copacetic. Leah told me you’re a reporter. I think it’s very cool you’re doing a story on BDSM.”
“And Tilly said feel free to ask Landry to play, if you want,” Leah offered.
“Oh?” Valerie turned to look at where Tilly and her men had set their bags on the far side of the area, closer to the play equipment. “Hmm. I might just take them up on that.” She smiled at Shayla. “I hope you enjoy tonight. Tony’s a really nice guy. You couldn’t be in better hands.” She waggled her fingers at them and headed off, apparently to go talk to Landry.
Tony, however, still seemed to look concerned. She caught him watching her. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting to get embroiled in a dungeon drama.”
“Sorry about that,” Leah said.
Loren walked up at that moment. “Everything okay? Did Lydia strike again?”
“It’s all settled,” Tony assured her. He turned to Shayla. “I’m all yours for the evening.”
* * * *
Because they were still full from dinner, they skipped the buffet offering laid out along the far wall in the table area.
“Since it’s not busy yet, let me take you on a tour,” he said. They started up in the loft area, where no one was playing yet. As they climbed the stairs, he explained the club’s rules as well.
“No pictures can be taken in the club without permission from the DMs first. And even then only if no one else is in the background. No one touches people or their things without permission. If someone says red, their play stops immediately unless they’ve talked to a DM ahead of time and arranged a different safeword if they’re going to do edge play. Violating those three rules is the easiest and fastest way to get kicked out and banned.”
“Seems pretty straightforward. Is that a problem, usually?”
“No, not normally.” He turned to her when they reached the top of the stairs. “But in a lot of the BDSM fiction out there, one of the favorite tropes vanilla writers use is the innocent female submissive who somehow accidentally stumbles into a club and then some big, bad Dom slaps a collar around her neck and starts to play with her despite her protests.”
“Really?” She thought about Lydia the gatekeeper in the lobby who nearly didn’t let her in. “Just accidentally stumbles in, huh?”
“You wouldn’t believe how many newbies honestly worry that might happen to them. Sure, if you go to a fetish night held at a bar you might get hit on like you would anywhere else, but someone tries to grab you against your will, you just scream and bouncers take care of them. In all my years in the lifestyle I’ve never seen someone forced to play in public against their will with no one helping them. Now I have seen asshats get grabby and get kicked out. Helped escort a few of them out when I’ve been DM’ing. But it happens far less frequently than you’d believe if you read the fiction.”
“But you have seen some people forced to play?”
“No. One time I saw a scene where the bottom called red and the Top didn’t stop. DMs stepped in to end the scene. If some douche doesn’t respect a safeword and doesn’t stop when a bottom calls a scene, that’s not BDSM. That’s assault. And it’s prosecutable.”
From up in the loft area, they could view the entire space. She also realized Loren, Tilly, and Leah had disappeared. “Where did they go?”
“They probably went to change out of their street clothes. Unless they’re coming straight here from home, they usually change after they get here.”
She looked at him, dressed as if going to work. “Do you change clothes?” she asked.
“Nope. This is what I wear.”
“I thought Doms like to wear leather and stuff.” In fact, several of the male Dominants in the club were dressed in either leather pants, a leather vest, or both in some cases. Many of them were dressed either all in black, or in some combination of black and red.
He nodded. “Some do, yes. But leather is hot and hard to move around in and I’m more comfortable in my jeans and a regular shirt. I’m not a leather kind of Dom when it comes to practicality.” He smiled. “I’m much more a denim kind of Dom.”
Shayla arched an eyebrow at him. “A denim Dom, huh?”
He nodded. “Better than a sweating-my-ass-off Dom.” He let her go down the stairs first. “Any questions so far?”
She gave silent thanks for opting to wear flats and not heels tonight. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of questions. I just have no idea where to start asking.”
“This is why, as you can tell, I’m not particularly fond of most BDSM fiction,” he said. “Not if it’s written by someone who hasn’t done plenty of research first, or who isn’t in the lifestyle. I’ve had several women approach me this year with completely unrealistic expectations based on their choice in reading material. One of them actually got pissed at me when I laughed at her.”
At the bottom of the stairs, Shayla turned to him. “Why’d you laugh at her?”
“She informed me that I would help her duplicate a scene from one of her favorite books, and that if I was a ‘real’ Dominant, I would do it.”
“You didn’t like that, huh?”
He grinned. “I suppose no one had told her that while subs might set the limits, the Doms make the rules. She spent the night kneeling on the floor while I talked to friends. When she got pissed off at me for not doing what she wanted, I laughed and told her she must not be a ‘real’ submissive then.” He smirked. “The irony was lost on her.”
He showed her around and explained the different equipment to her. Some she recognized from her online research, and
some she didn’t.
Some of it looked more dangerous and painful in person than it had on her computer.
He also introduced her to quite a few people. Everyone was friendly and more than a few offered to answer any questions she might have. She accumulated FetLife IDs and e-mail addresses at an incredible rate.
I can see I’m going to have to join that site.
This seemed to be the magic hour, because the slow trickle of people arriving turned into a flood as several dozen entered the space within about fifteen minutes. Tony led Shayla back to the area with the sofas to retrieve his bag.
“Come on,” he said, leading her toward one of the far tables in a corner. He laid the bag flat on the floor and unzipped it. When he opened it, she realized it was completely full of different implements. Paddles, floggers, riding crops, canes, even what looked to be a whip or two.
And other things, like vibrators.
She shivered.
“I normally carry my canes and riding crops in a blueprint tube,” he said. “I didn’t bring it with me tonight, though. I left most of them at home.”
“How many canes do you need?” she asked.
He laughed. “As many as it takes.”
* * * *
Tony watched her face as he showed her everything, explaining each item’s use and the differing sensations it provided.
“What is this?” She held it up.
“That’s a silicone tasting spoon.” He took the dense, double-ended orange cooking implement from her and smacked the cupped side against his palm. Its deceptive heft always surprised people.
She frowned. “Tasting spoon? As in something you cook with?”
He smiled. “Yep. Get some of my best toys at a cooking supply store at the flea market. This baby might not look like it’d hurt, but if you use the convex side of it and hit hard enough with it, it’ll put bruises on a person.” He rummaged around in his bag and found a pair of long, bamboo spoons. “These are great as a matched set.” He tapped out a rhythm against his thigh. “You can drum with them.”
The Denim Dom (Siren Publishing Sensations) Page 7