Page 10 of Gamble
“How are you doing since the divorce?”
His friend turned toward him, a sadness in his eyes. “It’s been three years. I’m fine.”
“There is no time limit on this shit you know. It’s okay if you aren’t okay yet.”
“Thanks, Dr. Phil.”
“Fuck off.”
“No offense, but I’d take your advice a bit more seriously if you’d actually been in a relationship of your own for more than a few months at a time.”
Elijah didn’t bother informing Kent that it had been years since he’d had any kind of monogamous relationship at all. Why should he? Romantic liaisons had never worked out for him, just ask his own ex-wife.
“Why should I settle down with just one when I can pick a sub to play with any time I’m in the mood here at Black Light.”
He could read the skepticism on his friend’s face, even in the dim lighting.
“So, how many of these submissives have you availed yourself of in, say, the last three months?”
As he searched his memory, the truth hit him hard.
Zero. The answer was none, unless you counted the glory hole, which even he didn’t count. Call it a crazy rule, but he assumed he needed to at least be able to see the person sucking his dick to have it count as a scene. Hell, he had to go back over six months to think of even one night of actual play with any type of intimate connection whatsoever.
Shit. How the hell had that happened?
“I see I’ve made my point without an argument.”
“Fuck off. The fact remains I could fuck someone every night of the week if I wanted to. I just don’t want to. Anyway, I get my needs met here.”
“Oh, and how is that? Magic?”
“Follow me.”
Elijah weaved them through the short line of members waiting at the entrance of the costume room and entered the Red-Light District of the club. Not surprisingly, the enclosed space was full of onlookers along with a short queue waiting to fuck the headless pussy sticking out of the wall.
Ignoring all of that, Elijah led his friend to the two holes in the wall, each at different heights. Waving his arm as if he were Vanna White on a game show, Elijah added a “Tada” for effect.
“A glory hole. You’re the dungeon master of the hottest BDSM club on the coast and you resort to getting sucked off by strangers that you never even see.”
It was lame. He knew it.
“It’s less complicated this way.”
“No shit.”
“Listen asshole, I don’t want to get involved with someone here at the club that I’d then have to keep seeing over and over when it all falls apart. It would be too messy.”
“That assumes it will always fall apart.”
“Is that a rhetorical question? When hasn’t it fallen apart—for either of us?”
“Hey, I made it eighteen years with Yvonne. We got two teenagers out of the deal,” Kent defended.
“True, but you also got an ulcer and ended up having to walk away losing half your assets.”
“What’s your point? We should both just spend the rest of our lives happy with getting sucked off by strangers just to avoid getting hurt? You may be happy with that, but I sure as hell am not. I was too young to know what the fuck I was doing when I got married the first time. I stuck with her because of the kids, but not again. I’m not that stupid kid anymore.”
Elijah wanted to argue back, warn Kent he’d only get hurt again, but when he opened his mouth, the words didn’t come out.
