Page 8 of Naughty November

“I know what X is. It used to be Twitter. Is it still a dumpster fire?”

“There’s hope for you yet. And yes, it is. I only use it for porn.”

I rolled my eyes but grinned. Of course he used X for porn.

The words flowed between us, as if we hadn’t been total strangers before connecting on the app. It was fractionally alarming to feel this at ease with someone I was planning to enjoy a heavy kink scene with.

I liked Atticus. A little too much.

I didn’t want my emotions involved in this, except at a very basic level. I hoped it wouldn’t put me off my game. But once Atticus had his pup hood on, he’d presumably become an object or a mindless animal for me to dominate. I was excited and didn’t want strong emotions to get in the way of a primal and experimental exercise.

I’d expected to be bored with our time in the gaming parlor, and itching to get into the back room—what was it called? The Bordello—but instead, I found myself charmed and entertained by Atticus’ company.

When Atticus looked at his watch and said it was time to get the key, I didn’t think so much time had passed.

“Oh. Right.” I said, as if I’d forgotten. “Let’s go.”

Atticus put his hands on the table and gave me an impish look, then stood. As I got to my feet, he stayed me with his hand.

“Luther, I have to tell you that I never expected you to be this fucking hot, or smart, or…I don’t know. I’m starting to think I really lucked out here.”

I examined him and waffled between confessing my own feelings or keeping things business-like. As usual, I opted for the latter.

“Thank you. You’re exactly my type, physically, and I’m eager to learn more about pup play.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but closed it again.

“Perfect,” he said with a mischievous smile.

I followed Atticus to the bar.

Jacob looked up. “Is it that time?”

“Oh yes,” Atticus said, his eyes sparkling. The man had an energy about him that electrified me.

Jacob reached under the bar and brought out an antique, rusted skeleton key.

“Oh shit. That’s the key?” I asked.

Jacob laughed, then showed me the small steel key that was hung on it. “That’s thekeychain. It would be amazing if that were the key, but alas, it’s not.”

“Damn. I was expecting a huge wooden door with an iron latch on it,” I confessed.

“We’ve discussed putting a key code lock on the Bordello, which makes more sense, but we’re supposed to be providing an old-fashioned ambience here. Plus, everyone gets a kick out of the keychain.”

“Is it a real antique?”

“Of course.”

“You have so many beautiful pieces,” I said.

“Thank you. We get everything from a local shop that’s owned by a good friend of ours. We have a deal to get certain items at a discount. And they put aside things that they suspect might interest us.”

“How wonderful.”

“Off you go then. You only have an hour,” Jacob reminded us. “Make the best of it. Atticus knows the rules and they’re posted by the door.”

“Thank you,” I said.

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