Would you leap without looking? Tonight Mickey (or mickey as the consummate sub thinks of himself) will. But is walking away afterward an option? More likely he’ll be crawling, and loving it.
My hand trembles so badly i lower treacherous fingers from the door handle. This is stupid. i make a fist and mutter angrily.
“Come on, mickey. Get a grip. It’s just a club.”
“Excuse me,” a rough voice intrudes. “Out or in?”
“Oh, uh. In, i guess. Thanks,” i mumble as the amused inquirer holds the door.
Smooth, mickey.
“No problem,” he replies over his shoulder.
In a moment he is lost in the crowd. Damn. He was one handsome man.
Don’t get me wrong. i’ve got quite a looker at home. When he’s not at work, anyway.
At thought of Neil i almost turn right around and leave. The trembling travels up my arm to think i’m breaking Mr. Bryce’s rule. He doesn’t let me go out alone.
Period.
Not to the store, not my Zumba class, and most certainly not a place like this. i am his and wandering without a chaperone simply isn’t permitted.
What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
But what if he finds out? That could hurt us each equally. No matter how tough he acts, Neil’s got a heart of gold. Breaking it would kill me.
He does love me. That counts for a lot. And it’s not like he doesn’t take good care of me. Or at least he always has in the past. It’s why i moved in, mutual affection growing over time.
But lately i’ve been feeling like he’s little more than a strict keeper. i mean, honestly, the last time i went to the zoo the leopards in the cat house were getting more action than i’ve had in the last month.
The stress of Neil’s new project at work simply takes everything out of him. Of course i’m not allowed to inquire about his job. He says i shouldn’t worry my pretty little head about such things.
It never occurs to the man that his concerns are mine, too. A significant other should help bear some of a lover’s burdens. Even a screwball submissive like me understands that much about relationships.
Silly man, what does he think his stoicism spares me? His restlessness keeps me awake half the night. Worse, his rampant stress level inevitably spills over into our sex life, or lack thereof. Not in my nature, complaining is completely out of the question.
So yesterday i got sadly stuck cleaning the house without avid, brown eyes critiquing this body. No judgmental overseer sought a reason to beat my aerobicized behind. Pointedly leaving dust bunnies under the couch didn’t earn me a single lash, let alone a whipping.
That’s what hurts the worst, i realize, scanning the crowd self consciously. Neil didn’t even inspect the apartment last night, let alone find an excuse for rough intercourse. He ate his dinner in silence as i stood to wait on him. Ordered to bed early i lay wide awake and silently bored watching him toss and turn.
So here i am. Needing validation, i’m risking the behavior that nearly got me killed a few times before Neil took me in.
Perhaps this is enough. Maybe just pretending to put myself out there can tide me over until my lover misses us, too.
“You here alone?”
i nervously grab my drink two handed, afraid it will spill in turning. My interrogator looks like a thug. But me being who i am, my mouth opens wide to honestly answer yes.
“Beat it, Romeo. He’s with me.”
The brute looks doubtful, sizing up my hunk from outside the bar. He decides to let it slide.
“Sure,” he relinquishes. “No offense meant.”
“None taken. In fact, I’ll take it as a compliment. I’d hit on him, too, if I were you.”
A dark glance gives me chills. That guy would’ve been trouble. i gratefully watch his retreating back.
“Thanks,” i repeat inanely from earlier encountering my beautiful savior.
“No problem. You seem new here, a little lost, and I wouldn’t want that asshole whisking you off or scaring you away.”
“Yeah?” Boldly, i further, “And why is that?”
“Because I only want you leaving the bar if you’ll come with me. Otherwise, I’ll resume watching you from up there.”
He points to a shady alcove off the mezzanine. i hadn’t even looked up. The catwalk always made me dizzy, so the club’s new addition completely missed my notice.
Tapping his nails impatiently, he prompts, “So?”
Still not answering, i’m caught by vertigo spinning my brain. Channeling useful techniques learned in therapy, i look down at the solid ground beneath one low, calfskin boot and put my other foot down from the rail to add stability.
The same thing doesn’t work for everybody and i’m lucky my solution is so simple. And as an added benefit, the gesture looks coy in the right situation.
This is definitely the right situation. i peer up at the bigger man through my lashes.
“So, what?”
“Come upstairs with me.”
“Upstairs?”
“Yeah. When I said leave the bar I meant my bar. Stay here and let these other bozos buy you my overpriced booze or come to my private office upstairs. I win to some degree either way. Yes or no?”
“Wait,” i blurt, wondering if my formerly reliable barkeep would set a trap for me on Neil’s behalf. “What happened to Roy?”
“You’re not new,” he comments victoriously, blessedly ignoring my uncharacteristic rudeness. “I was sure I knew that hair. Why haven’t I seen you around lately?”
Though lengthier, the color hasn’t changed. i got Mom’s shade, polished copper, and treat it like gold. Gut instinct tells me to ignore compliment and just answer the man.
“i don’t get out much lately. It’s been about a year and a half since i was here. When Roy ran the place.”
“He sold out to me shortly after that. Retired to Florida. My partners and I thought about changing the name to advertise new ownership. But why mess with success?”
No lie, this rundown factory brought to life Roy’s ambitious dream and became a booming transgender club. Everyone for miles around knows “The Chimney” as the place for folks to mingle. The man, not known for his subtlety, refurbished the old smokestack and painted the name in giant gold lettering on two sides.
He was famous for welcoming my little BDSM subculture, endearing him to us all. The fact i missed big news like his retirement shows just how cloistered i’ve become to please my owner.
The appraising gaze from this handsome fellow makes my heart pound. Feeling heat creep up my neck, i can only pray the blush doesn’t show in flashing strobe lights. Neil makes fun of me when freckles flare. i remind myself this isn’t Neil.
“I like the blush. Very becoming. What’s your name?”
“mickey.”
“Oh, yes. You used to be with Rick’s crowd.”
Something mysterious but flattering crosses his face. Amusement curling his mouth distracts me from worry that i don’t know what name he’d gone by. i’d most likely been too drunk or high. Or both.
“You were probably too wasted to remember meeting me back then,” he jibes accurately.
“i’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. You’re looking good. I’m Don, like the duck,” he jokes modestly. “In fact, I’ll call you Mouse.”
“Okay, Don,” i agree automatically, neither averse nor unacquainted with the pet name.
“Okay, meaning you’ll come upstairs? Or are you merely agreeing to the title?”
Answering before i can chicken out, i reply, “Both.”
“Very good.”
Putting a proprietary palm on my thigh, he summons the bartender. The doll-like tranny gives her boss a flirty smile and leans close for private instruction. Then Don indicates me and points to his office, eliciting a jealous pout.
“Just do what I asked, Rhonda. Have our refreshment there in under five.”
“Sure, Donald. Whatever you say.”
Chuckling, he confesses in my ear, “I’d rather hear those words from you.”
Cautiously i parrot, “Whatever you say.”
“Let’s go,” he growls.
~to be continued~
Leap of Faith
My hand trembles so badly i lower treacherous fingers from the door handle. This is stupid. i make a fist and mutter angrily.
“Come on, mickey. Get a grip. It’s just a club.”
“Excuse me,” a rough voice intrudes. “Out or in?”
“Oh, uh. In, i guess. Thanks,” i mumble as the amused inquirer holds the door.
Smooth, mickey.
“No problem,” he replies over his shoulder.
In a moment he is lost in the crowd. Damn. He was one handsome man.
Don’t get me wrong. i’ve got quite a looker at home. When he’s not at work, anyway.
At thought of Neil i almost turn right around and leave. The trembling travels up my arm to think i’m breaking Mr. Bryce’s rule. He doesn’t let me go out alone.
Period.
Not to the store, not my Zumba class, and most certainly not a place like this. i am his and wandering without a chaperone simply isn’t permitted.
What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
But what if he finds out? That could hurt us each equally. No matter how tough he acts, Neil’s got a heart of gold. Breaking it would kill me.
He does love me. That counts for a lot. And it’s not like he doesn’t take good care of me. Or at least he always has in the past. It’s why i moved in, mutual affection growing over time.
But lately i’ve been feeling like he’s little more than a strict keeper. i mean, honestly, the last time i went to the zoo the leopards in the cat house were getting more action than i’ve had in the last month.
The stress of Neil’s new project at work simply takes everything out of him. Of course i’m not allowed to inquire about his job. He says i shouldn’t worry my pretty little head about such things.
It never occurs to the man that his concerns are mine, too. A significant other should help bear some of a lover’s burdens. Even a screwball submissive like me understands that much about relationships.
Silly man, what does he think his stoicism spares me? His restlessness keeps me awake half the night. Worse, his rampant stress level inevitably spills over into our sex life, or lack thereof. Not in my nature, complaining is completely out of the question.
So yesterday i got sadly stuck cleaning the house without avid, brown eyes critiquing this body. No judgmental overseer sought a reason to beat my aerobicized behind. Pointedly leaving dust bunnies under the couch didn’t earn me a single lash, let alone a whipping.
That’s what hurts the worst, i realize, scanning the crowd self consciously. Neil didn’t even inspect the apartment last night, let alone find an excuse for rough intercourse. He ate his dinner in silence as i stood to wait on him. Ordered to bed early i lay wide awake and silently bored watching him toss and turn.
So here i am. Needing validation, i’m risking the behavior that nearly got me killed a few times before Neil took me in.
Perhaps this is enough. Maybe just pretending to put myself out there can tide me over until my lover misses us, too.
“You here alone?”
i nervously grab my drink two handed, afraid it will spill in turning. My interrogator looks like a thug. But me being who i am, my mouth opens wide to honestly answer yes.
“Beat it, Romeo. He’s with me.”
The brute looks doubtful, sizing up my hunk from outside the bar. He decides to let it slide.
“Sure,” he relinquishes. “No offense meant.”
“None taken. In fact, I’ll take it as a compliment. I’d hit on him, too, if I were you.”
A dark glance gives me chills. That guy would’ve been trouble. i gratefully watch his retreating back.
“Thanks,” i repeat inanely from earlier encountering my beautiful savior.
“No problem. You seem new here, a little lost, and I wouldn’t want that asshole whisking you off or scaring you away.”
“Yeah?” Boldly, i further, “And why is that?”
“Because I only want you leaving the bar if you’ll come with me. Otherwise, I’ll resume watching you from up there.”
He points to a shady alcove off the mezzanine. i hadn’t even looked up. The catwalk always made me dizzy, so the club’s new addition completely missed my notice.
Tapping his nails impatiently, he prompts, “So?”
Still not answering, i’m caught by vertigo spinning my brain. Channeling useful techniques learned in therapy, i look down at the solid ground beneath one low, calfskin boot and put my other foot down from the rail to add stability.
The same thing doesn’t work for everybody and i’m lucky my solution is so simple. And as an added benefit, the gesture looks coy in the right situation.
This is definitely the right situation. i peer up at the bigger man through my lashes.
“So, what?”
“Come upstairs with me.”
“Upstairs?”
“Yeah. When I said leave the bar I meant my bar. Stay here and let these other bozos buy you my overpriced booze or come to my private office upstairs. I win to some degree either way. Yes or no?”
“Wait,” i blurt, wondering if my formerly reliable barkeep would set a trap for me on Neil’s behalf. “What happened to Roy?”
“You’re not new,” he comments victoriously, blessedly ignoring my uncharacteristic rudeness. “I was sure I knew that hair. Why haven’t I seen you around lately?”
Though lengthier, the color hasn’t changed. i got Mom’s shade, polished copper, and treat it like gold. Gut instinct tells me to ignore compliment and just answer the man.
“i don’t get out much lately. It’s been about a year and a half since i was here. When Roy ran the place.”
“He sold out to me shortly after that. Retired to Florida. My partners and I thought about changing the name to advertise new ownership. But why mess with success?”
No lie, this rundown factory brought to life Roy’s ambitious dream and became a booming transgender club. Everyone for miles around knows “The Chimney” as the place for folks to mingle. The man, not known for his subtlety, refurbished the old smokestack and painted the name in giant gold lettering on two sides.
He was famous for welcoming my little BDSM subculture, endearing him to us all. The fact i missed big news like his retirement shows just how cloistered i’ve become to please my owner.
The appraising gaze from this handsome fellow makes my heart pound. Feeling heat creep up my neck, i can only pray the blush doesn’t show in flashing strobe lights. Neil makes fun of me when freckles flare. i remind myself this isn’t Neil.
“I like the blush. Very becoming. What’s your name?”
“mickey.”
“Oh, yes. You used to be with Rick’s crowd.”
Something mysterious but flattering crosses his face. Amusement curling his mouth distracts me from worry that i don’t know what name he’d gone by. i’d most likely been too drunk or high. Or both.
“You were probably too wasted to remember meeting me back then,” he jibes accurately.
“i’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. You’re looking good. I’m Don, like the duck,” he jokes modestly. “In fact, I’ll call you Mouse.”
“Okay, Don,” i agree automatically, neither averse nor unacquainted with the pet name.
“Okay, meaning you’ll come upstairs? Or are you merely agreeing to the title?”
Answering before i can chicken out, i reply, “Both.”
“Very good.”
Putting a proprietary palm on my thigh, he summons the bartender. The doll-like tranny gives her boss a flirty smile and leans close for private instruction. Then Don indicates me and points to his office, eliciting a jealous pout.
“Just do what I asked, Rhonda. Have our refreshment there in under five.”
“Sure, Donald. Whatever you say.”
Chuckling, he confesses in my ear, “I’d rather hear those words from you.”
Cautiously i parrot, “Whatever you say.”
“Let’s go,” he growls.
~to be continued~
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