Tactical Submission: A Windsor Club Story

by Ada Maria Soto

  "Not really. It's mostly the job. I work out in my off time but that's more to stay healthy." Jack was aware of how incredibly dull his life sounded and probably was. "I like to ski." He added in hopes of livening things up.

  "So do I."

  "I'm not very good," Jack added quickly in case Isaac got ideas about them skiing or Jack being the outdoor sporty type. "I mostly stick to the intermediate and beginner slopes, shake my fist at snowboarders like a grumpy old man."

  Isaac nodded in agreement. "I usually do one run on a hard slope a year to painfully remind myself that I'm not very good either, then go back to the beginner slopes."

  "I probably spend more time in the lodge then on the slopes."

  "But you need to justify the fire and hot chocolate by freezing your balls off first," Isaac said, grinning.

  "That's about right."

  The tacos arrived along with another pitcher of water. Now that Jack had relaxed, he found that he was in fact quite hungry. The first one went down in a few bites with no extra conversation. He was aware of Isaac watching him eat but not with any great scrutiny. He slowed down with his second taco to appreciate the fact that it was pretty good. The meat wasn't over cooked and everything tasted fresh.

  Isaac carefully spread a couple of drops of salsa onto his own taco. "I know doctors who refuse to eat out anywhere. They've seen too much weird stuff and don't trust anything but their own cooking, with produce from farms they've personally inspected. They can get really up in their own heads about it."

  "Not you I take it?"

  He lifted his own taco. "I've yet to cut open anyone who ate here prior to death. I also spent college regularly eating from a place called Pizza 4 Less and my residency involved a lot of questionable food truck food. I figure if I can survive that..."

  "I'll take any halfway decent smelling food truck food over some of the stuff we got in the army. I know it was all sterilized and designed to stay fresh for fifty years but man some of that was bad."

  Isaac smiled. "See, there we go, I didn't know you'd been in the army."

  Jack shrugged. "Not long." There were reasons he didn't go into details about his time in the army. "Four-year enlistment, two on IRR. It wasn't as good a fit as I'd thought."

  "And SWAT fits better?"

  It was a variation on the questions Jack asked when he was willing to be self-reflective. "Most days."

  "Whatever works. And it could be worse. I got all the way through med school and residency before I realized I wasn't cut out to work on real live patients every day. I'm from three generations of doctors. My parents change the subject very quickly when people ask about my specialty."

  Jack knew all about parental career disappointment. "My parents tell people I'm a cop but they'd prefer if I was a detective. SWAT doesn't have the greatest rep these days."

  Isaac nodded without further comment. Jack understood. There was a constant urge to go around the country, to certain other SWAT teams and scream 'you're making the rest of us look bad and not making the job any easier'. Most of the cops he knew regularly had the same urge. They fell into silence again and Jack ate another taco.

  "Do you want to know anything else about me? Little niggling questions?" Isaac asked again. "Totally open book here."

  "Um…" Jack did have a few questions that he didn’t know exactly how to phrase. "Your wife?"

  Isaac nodded. "Her name's Amalie. She's a genetic biologist. She's currently trying to convince certain types of alga that an oil spill is actually a yummy treat."

  "I find anything is edible with catchup." Jack joked while processing the fact that the wife of the guy he's having sex with is probably some level of genius and has a doctorate in something. All of Jack's qualifications were through the army and of little use or interest.

  "I think at one point she was splicing in tomato genes for some reason. I'm always slightly worried that one day she's going to come home with the creature from the black lagoon. We have a cat named Murrcat."

  "Meircat?"

  "No, Murrcat. I'm sure when he was a kitten we named him Percival or something like that but somewhere along the line we just started calling him Murrcat."

  "My sister's cat was called Squeeker. It was giant and terrorized the dog." Isaac smiled at him. It was broad with laughter behind it and Jack noticed it. Really noticed it. There was no formality or rank in front of it. It was just a smile. A nice one. Jack grabbed a chip. He'd been so focused on Isaac's control and personality, the fact that he could get him off with nothing more than a few words and a light touch, he hadn't put much thought into what he looked like. He looked close. With the smile, Isaac looked young. Younger than he probably actually was. His brown eyes were open and friendly. He didn't fall into the category of square jawed handsome or delicately beautiful. He supposed Isaac's features were pleasant, when he was like this, under warm restaurant lights with salsa on his lips. And yet in the Windsor there was something sharp about them. Kind, but with a promise of other things.

  Jack grabbed a chip. And uncomfortable arousal settled over him.

  "Anything else you'd like to know about me?"

  He spun the tip of the chip around in the salsa but didn't eat it. Isaac waited. "You're always asking me questions," Jack finally said. "I mean when we're—" he tipped his head toward the door trying to convey his whole other life. "You keep asking me for permission if you can do stuff."

  "Would you rather I didn't?" There was seriousness in Isaac's voice and Jack looked up.

  "Most… I mean usually there's some at the beginning but—" Jack put the now far too hot chip on the edge of his plate.

  "You are letting me inside your head." Isaac's voice lost the casual humor of earlier. "The inside of anyone's head is a delicate thing and I'm still learning the shape of yours. I ask because I'd rather not run into walls and hurt you in the process. I can stop if you wish. I can simply give you orders and expect them to be obeyed but I'd rather not. Not until I have a better idea of where your walls are and how strong they are."

  Jack shook his head. It made sense. If anything, he should be thankful for Isaac's consideration. What he was not thankful for was the massive erection he had simply from the shift in Isaac's voice, soft but firm.

  "It would help if you gave me a list." Isaac continued.

  "A list?"

  "What you know you like. What you know you don't. What you think you might like and are curious to try."

  Jack thought about writing out that list. Putting on paper all the things he spent years trying and failing to scrub from his mind. Things he was afraid to even type into google. It would make them real.

  "You don't have to—"

  "No. I'll think about it. I'll try."

  "Thank you. While we're on the subject of thinking about things I invited you here tonight to hopefully broach a subject."

  Jack's heart sped up trying to think of what it could possibly be. Isaac wouldn't want to cut things off, not after requesting a list. Did he want to go public? Tell people? Jack couldn't do that. If it got back to his team… They had a certain image of him, and as their leader had expectations about who he was. Yes, they were in public now but this was different.

  "I'd like you to come home with me. Not tonight, you need time to think. But I like you and I enjoy our time together and I think we can develop. I'd like to offer you something more personal than the back room of a sex club. You don't have to say yes, there's no time limit, and if you like, we can continue on as we are if that's what you're comfortable with. But if you are willing I'd like to take you home with me. I'd like you to stay the night, and maybe not have to schedule weekends only in the future."

  Now Jack's heart was truly racing. That had never even occurred to him. The idea of going to Isaac's home, the place where he lived, spending the whole night. He assumed that they would continue to meet at the club or maybe hotels. Without thinking he shoved the too hot chip into his mouth and promptly choked on it. Isaac chuckled, even as he
passed him a glass of water. He chugged the water before shoving mild beans into his mouth trying to sooth the burn.

  When he finally was able to blink the tears out of his eyes, Isaac was smiling at him. "Not quite the reaction I was expecting."

  Jack took another swallow of water. "I'll think about it."

  "That's all I ask."

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  "How'd it go?" Amalie asked.

  "He's from Boston, was in the army, and has a sister whose name I didn't get but who had a cat named Squeeker."

  Amalie flicked a rubber band at him, which was pounced on by Murrcat as soon as it hit the floor.

  "That's not what I meant and you know it."

  He flopped onto the battered love seat that took up half of Amalie's home office. "The medium salsa was spicier than usual tonight." She flicked another rubber band at him. Murrcat ignored that one in favor of a fresh lap. "We talked. I think I surprised him more than anything else. I didn't get the impression that he was against the idea, just a bit startled by it."

  "Thought you were going to confine him to sex clubs and motel rooms."

  "You make it sound so trashy. I don't recall you objecting to motel rooms."

  "When we were twenty and both still living with our parents."

  "Remember that manager who thought you were a hooker and tried to get you to sign up for the frequent guest program?" Isaac had another rubber band flicked at his head.

  "I hope you use more charm with Jack."

  "I do. And he said he'd think about it."

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The locker room bench was too hard and too narrow to ever be comfortable, probably designed to keep people from sitting down and not wanting to get back up. Most of his team had headed to their homes hours earlier. Jack had headed to the gym. No matter what kind of decision he made, he was going to be in great shape by the time he made it.

  He hadn't been able to stop thinking the entire ride home the night before, thinking about lists, about Isaac. He ended up in his building's pool, swimming hard until nearly midnight.

  I want to bring you home.

  It made him sound like a puppy that needed to be rescued. He knew he should be thinking about what Isaac had offered. Weighing pros and cons, formulating a plan, but his mind kept running in useless circles.

  He jumped slightly at a hand on his shoulder.

  "Hey man, you look like you're about to fall asleep sitting up."

  He looked up at Dan who was in civilian clothes and probably about to start his shift. Like Jack he was always first in and last out.

  "I'm fine, just up in my own head." That was an understatement.

  "Yeah? Anything interesting?" Jack shook his head. "Really? And how's that 'it's complicated' thing going?"

  Jack didn't answer. He wanted to. He'd been running the same thoughts around until it was a mush of him talking to himself. Dan sat on the bench next to him, but not too close, unlacing his shoes.

  "I'm going to take your silence to mean that the complicated thing is still complicated."

  He sighed while Dan chuckled.

  "So, married or kinky?"

  "I don't want to talk about it," Jack lied.

  "Or both."

  He stood up to open his own locker, Dan getting too close to the truth.

  "Both it is." Dan followed him. "You know that can be a workable combo as long as everyone's on board."

  "I don't want to talk about it," Jack repeated with not quite enough force.

  Dan leaned against the lockers while Jack pulled fresh clothes out of his own.

  "I think you absolutely do want to talk about it. Look, if it's the kink but you're not into it then don't, seriously don't, that's not one of those 'yeah maybe I can get used to it things'. If it's a no, it's a no."

  Jack leaned his head against the edge of his locker, resisting the urge to start banging his head against it.

  "If it's the married thing, as long as everyone's on board…"

  "Why are you on SWAT?" Jack asked with growing frustration.

  Dan spread his long, well-muscled arms wide. "Look at me? I barely fit in a squad car and being a detective is more of a pain in the ass than I want to deal with."

  "I mean why aren't you… I don't know, relationship advice, something?"

  "Because lonely bastards like yourself would never actually go to a Relationship Advice Something. I'll tell you this though, whatever it is, it's probably not as complicated as you're making it in your head. You can probably clear any of it up with a five-minute conversation."

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Isaac hadn't led him directly to a room this time, instead they sat in a deep booth, much like their dinner, except this time the seats were upholstered in rich leather and the air smelled of fancy cologne and expensive wine. He slid a piece of paper to Isaac. He felt like a spy in a cold war novel, except there was no enemy here. Just secrets.

  "It's not much. I realized I don't... I don't think I know as much about myself as I should. Not when it comes to this." It had been hard writing the list. He'd stopped and started a dozen times and it had taken almost the entire two weeks between their dinner and now. He'd gone over every encounter, and every fantasy. He tried to distance himself from the memories, look at them objectively, but that made certain aspects worse. Isaac unfolded the paper and silently read it over. "Thank you for this. I'm sure it wasn't easy. I can't promise I won't misstep with you but this should help lower the odds."

  "So, what now?" Jack asked.

  Isaac looked back down at the paper. "That's up to you. We can talk about what's on this list."

  Jack shook his head. He'd tangled up his brain writing that list and didn't want to think about it for a while.

  "We can get a room. Have a little fun if you're in the mood for that." Jack thought about it but oddly enough he wasn't. He didn't feel like he had the emotional energy for it.

  "Or, we can order dinner?"

  "Actually, I am kinda hungry. I think I might have skipped lunch."

  Isaac smiled. "Dinner it is. And we should do dessert. The pastry chef here is excellent."

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The list Jack had slid across their table stayed folded neatly in Isaac's pocket until he got home. It was two pages, hand written. He'd only glanced over it at the club, somewhat surprised that Jack had done it. He lay it on the small breakfast table in the kitchen, which due to an error in light bulb purchasing, had the brightest light in the house. The list had eraser marks in several places, leaving the paper thin and slightly smudged. He had friends with access to high tech laser imaging computer microscopes that could probably read what had been rubbed out, but if Jack decided he didn't want Isaac to know something, Isaac would accept it, at least until it became a problem.

  The likes and dislikes were short lists. The likes were broad, too broad for Isaac's peace of mind, and the dislikes were detailed in a way that spoke of bad experiences. The maybe list was extensive. It looked like Jack had found some kink list online and had simply gone down it, ticking off the ones that spoke to him. And considering that after the first few lines, the list became alphabetical he was almost positive that is what had happened. He laughed out loud at the mental image, then went to find a notepad so he could start making notes of his own.

  Chapter 7

  The front yard of Isaac's home was overgrown but in an artistic way. Patches of flowers that were probably vibrant colors when illuminated by something other than a yellow street lamp, lined the walkway. The front door and porch, with little side windows, were the same as every other house on the quiet street. There were lots of neighborhoods like this one. Rows of tiny houses built by factories or the military in the 40's with each new owner or decade adding on another room or second story, like passing around a Lego house and box of bricks from child to child. There was light coming through the small windows but curtains were closed across the large one.

  You can do this. Jack repeated to himself over and over as he sat
in his truck outside. He knew what was going to happen, or at least had a good idea. He'd done it before; he'd done it with Isaac. The only thing that was different was the location. That was all, just trading one bed for another. Hardly worth thinking about.

  You are so crap at lying to yourself.

  He closed his eyes. After each encounter with Isaac, he'd felt more sated and at ease than any previous experiences. Those impossible to scratch itches were soothed. His mind quieted and his body felt right.

  And you want that again so get the fuck out of the truck.

  He climbed out of his truck. He'd dressed carefully but not formally. Jeans and a clean button down shirt. At Isaac's suggestion, he'd brought a small overnight bag pieced together out of his go bag. He knocked on the door and counted the time. Six seconds and the door swung open. Isaac was standing there dressed in black and purple with bare feet. Jack liked it. He always liked the way Isaac dressed, really the way everyone at the Windsor dressed. No too tight black leather and steel rings. Instead it was silk, wool, and fine linen. Isaac smiled at him.

  "Come in. I'm glad you came." He held the door open and Jack stepped in, his eyes sweeping the room. It was habit, making sure a room was clear as he entered. There was no one else. There must have been walls knocked out at some point. The entrance flowed into a large living room with a staircase at one end and then back into a dining room. It was cluttered but in an academic fashion. Full bookshelves lined the walls with more books stacked onto coffee tables.

  "Would you like anything to drink? Some water?"

  His mouth did feel dry. "Water would be nice. Thank you."

  Isaac smiled. "Take a seat if you like. I'll be right back." He headed to the dining room and through the door beyond which presumably housed the kitchen.

  Jack looked around and picked up a magazine from a coffee table, feeling the need to do something with his hands. The American Journal of Forensic Medicine and Pathology. He flipped it open. A Retrospective Study of Blade Wound Characteristics in Suicide and Homicide.

  The kitchen door swung open. Jack quickly put the journal down. Isaac glanced at it as he handed him a glass of ice water. "Not the most chipper reading but necessary. Got to keep on top of what people figure out how to do to each other and themselves."