Page 5 of Finders Keepers
“Hmm?”
“Open your eyes.”
Nate blinked and focused on the door to the bathroom as his equilibrium adjusted.
Ashton appeared in his view and held out a hand. “Up you go.”
Nate gripped Ashton’s long smooth fingers and stood, was led to the bed. He took in the white sheets, the satin restraints waiting. A bottle of massage oil lay next to a purple silicone cock ring, a pink and blue paisley silk tie, and orange rubber nipple clamps on one corner. Lube and condoms on the bedside table. A shiver of anticipation rippled through him.
“On your back first...”
Warm hands on his waist steadied him, but they also sparked anticipation. The sheets were cool and smooth against his back and glutes, and the slight scent of starch and bleach reached his nose. The cuffs of the restraints were soft around his wrists and ankles. The silk blindfold slid smoothly over his face and eyes.
“Anything uncomfortable, Nate?”
Nate tugged and shifted. “No, it’s all fine.”
“Should that change, let me know.”
The mix of command and tenderness in Ashton’s voice promised both care and control, and Nate’s last vestiges of worry evaporated.
“I will.”
“Safe words?”
“Green, yellow, red.”
“Good. Let’s get started.”
Chapter Two
Wesley hummed as he walked through the lobby to the front doors of Flocked Velvet, the satisfaction of a job well done buzzing under his skin. Nate had been especially responsive tonight; what a sight to behold. Wesley had left him blissed out and snoozing with a wakeup call scheduled for two a.m.
Wesley hadn’t known Nate from Adam the first night he’d come in, and an NDA wasn’t unusual. His profile card had said ‘professional athlete,’ which was interesting but not something Wesley was about to verify. The club ran on trust and boundaries, not Google searches.
But Nate had filled in the blanks himself the first night—hockey, Locomotives, goalie. Nate was the first professional athlete who played at the highest level of his sport that Wesley had met or been paired with, and he was inordinately glad he had been.
The poor man seemed starved for affection and definitely felt the weight of the burdens he carried, some of which he’d shared. Wesley really wanted to take him home, feed him up, and hug on him. That would never happen, of course. First of all, Nate was way out of his league, and the “Pretty Woman” fairy tale wouldn’t happen to a gay man with a femme vibe. Second of all, Nate had a high-profile job in a powerful industry that frowned upon non-traditional relationships and would decry the unconventional sexual preferences in which he engaged.
Nate seemed destined to be single until his hockey playing days were over. Wesley didn’t know how long that was, but his heart ached at the thought of him going for another ten, twenty years without someone by his side. The man really needed someone in his corner on a human level. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be Wesley no matter how much he might wish otherwise.
He too would love to be in a permanent stable relationship. Most people would, right? But until he gave up teaching, his stints at the club would have to provide the sexual outlet he needed since he, too, carried the burden of working in a career field that mostly looked askance at who he was and what he did in the privacy of a bedroom.
Even in this day and age, society didn’t always believe that a gay man who taught elementary school, especially one who played Dom, wasn’t a child predator. He preferred his sexual partners to be legal experienced adults, thank you very much.
A glance at his phone indicated his ride share was on its way. Tonight’s stint as Nate’s Dom was his last hurrah at the club for a while. School started in the not-too distant future, and he had a boatload of things to do for the new school year as well as attend a couple of teacher in-service days.Online course next week.He snapped his fingers in remembrance. He had a few additional hours of self-directed professional development to complete. But all those thoughts and plans could wait for tomorrow.
Right now, home, another shower with his favorite shower gel, and his 500-thread count sheets were calling his name. After leaving Nate dozing, he’d hit the locker room off the club’s gym and cleaned up a bit, changing into his favorite billowy blouse and light blue skinny jeans for the ride home.
By the time he’d passed through both sets of pneumatic doors, he’d shed the last vestiges of his alter ego, Ashton Morgan, professional Dom, and become Wesley Byerly, gay boy extraordinaire once again.
The warm night air caressed his skin, which was cool from hours spent in a climate-controlled environment, and he couldn’t help the sigh of relief. The main thoroughfare where his ride share would arrive and wait was a straight shot across the deep parking lot. He hooked his thumbs in the straps of hisbackpack for the trek. He’d passed the first double row of parked cars and was halfway through the aisle when someone shouted.
“Hey, faggot! Femme boy!”
The hair on the back of Wesley’s neck rose and a knot settled in his throat. He swallowed hard, but the lump stuck.
Don’t look back. Keep walking.
