We were all on pins and needles waiting to hear the results of Jess’s work review. My confidence for her was sky-high; our girl was a force to be reckoned with, an artist, a verifiable badass. Hoping it would give her a little boost for the day, I texted her as much first thing in the morning. Her stomach was in knots, despite her recent efforts to hide how nervous she was about the review.
She was doubting herself, but I didn’t want her to have a single doubt in the world. Everything she had done so far would pale compared to what she was capable of, and I wanted her to know that.
When I loved someone — and I loved her down to the very depths of my soul, if I had one — I wanted them to feel like they could take on anything. Like they could do anything, be anything. When my partners thrived, so did I. My optimism could grate on some people’s nerves, but I would rather be known as annoyingly positive than risk dragging anyone down, especially those I cared about.
When Jess finally called my phone, about five minutes after noon, I shouted as loudly as I could. “Jess is calling! We’ve got an update, boys!”
It was lucky they were already in the house. They sprinted into the living room, and Manson stumbled through the doorway so quickly that he almost tripped himself on the carpet. They all gathered tightly around me as I answered the call and put it on speaker.
“Hey, baby,” I said. “Tell me you’ve got good news for us.”
“Is everyone there?” she said. Try as I might to discern any emotion in her voice, her true feelings eluded me.
“We’re all here, angel,” Manson said, his fingers tapping rapidly on the couch’s backrest. Jason nervously chewed his lip; Lucas was frowning. Even the dogs could sense the tension: Bo and Jojo were sitting close by, ears and tails perked up. Cherry didn’t have a thought in her head besides Lucas and playtime, so she was rolling around behind Jojo, trying in vain to catch the dog’s tail.
“I got it!” Jess exclaimed. “I got the promotion! I start work in three months!”
Our cheering was so loud, it drowned her out. The dogs were barking, tails wagging. They didn’t understand, but they were happy to be involved.
“We knew you’d get it,” I said. “Congratulations, Jess. It’s well fucking deserved.”
“I’m so proud of you,” Manson said. “You’ve worked so hard for this.”
“We’re all proud,” Jason said. “You’re going to do amazing, Jess.”
“New York City doesn’t know what it’s in for,” Lucas said, reaching down to grab Cherry off the ground before Jojo could step on her.
Jess’s joy was contagious. She sounded breathless with excitement, her smile permeating her every word.
“Thank you so much,” she said. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you all. I used that drawing of your house as part of my portfolio. My boss was really impressed with it. She said…” She paused, and I could imagine the smile on her lips. “She said she could tell that a lot of love had gone into that project.”
My chest swelled every time she used that word.
“We’re giving you the full VIP experience at Tris to celebrate,” I said. I’d already discussed it with my boss; even on the off chance that Jess didn’t get the promotion, she still deserved the best night out we could give her. “This Saturday night, full bottle service. How does that sound?”
“I think she might be excited,” Manson said, when Jess’s enthusiastic scream of “yes, yes, yes!” came over the line.
***
Club Tris occupied a tall, narrow building, nestled between a pizza place and a record shop. The brick facade was painted black, and the windows were covered from the inside. The front door was slightly ajar, allowing a small glimpse of the stairway within, illuminated with red bulbs. Over the doorway was a neon sign in the shape of two entwined broken hearts, one pink and one purple.
People were lined up to the end of the block waiting to get in. My energy was high, my mood was fucking fantastic. It had been far too long since I’d come to Tris to have fun, rather than to work. This place was my old stomping ground; it had been my spot.
I’d been fresh on the scene the first time I snuck in here. Manson and I had waited in line for what felt like an eternity, clutching fake IDs, nervous as hell that we’d be found out.
We had been found out, but it took a while. It was enough time for us to mesh ourselves in the good graces of the club’s workers and regular patrons. So instead of kicking us out permanently, we were banished for about six months only until we both turned twenty-one.
Jason and Lucas had never craved the club scene, unlike Manson and I. Jason had warmed up to it, but it had taken time and my insatiable insistence we go out often. Going out in public, especially as a couple, had been difficult for him at first. He’d always been afraid, looking over his shoulder, constantly on the defensive. But as he gained confidence in himself, he came to like the environment far more, which was perfect for me.
I loved showing him off. Had it been up to me, I would have paraded him around the place naked, crowing he was mine.
Now, walking up to Tris with Jason on one arm and Jess on the other, my ego had inflated to the size of Jupiter. It had me smirking like a damn fool to be escorting two such attractive people at the same time.
“Someone is going to think you’re trying to start a fight,” Lucas grumbled, tapping the back of my head as we walked down the crowded street. “Stop fucking smiling at everyone.”
As usual, the sight of a crowd got Lucas’s hackles up. Manson was walking arm in arm with him, grinning while the other man glowered.
“Most people won’t start a fight over a smile,” Manson said. Lucas flinched as a car drove by and backfired, and Manson said gently, “You’re safe. Don’t worry.”
Easier said than done for Lucas. He hadn’t left the house much since the incident at the sideshow. But he took a deep, measured breath. By the time he exhaled, some of the tension eased out of his back. He rolled his shoulders, and said, “Yeah. You’re right.”
Jess disentangled herself from my arm to go take his hand. He wore boots laced up to his knees tonight; the yellow laces were the only pop of color in his otherwise dark ensemble. Manson was in black, save for the silver chain he wore over his black button-up.
Walking beside them, Jess was almost glowing. She was made to be the center of attention: she was wearing silver heels that made her legs look extra long, and a tight black skirt that hugged her hips and ass. Her shirt was draped silver fabric, held around her neck and back with two slim chains. She wasn’t wearing a bra either.
It only took a few minutes of her talking to Lucas before she distracted him. It was a relief to finally hear him laugh as Jess clung to him, drowning him in sweetness and affection. The finesse with which she could influence him was remarkable. There had been a time when I’d believed that only Manson could figure out how to make Lucas calm down; Jess had proven me wrong.
Leading our group past the line, I walked up to the bouncer and clasped his hand in greeting.
“How’s it going, Robbie?” I said. “Good night so far?”
“You know it,” the big man rumbled, attaching a yellow VIP wristband to my arm. He greeted the rest of us as he attached our bands, motioning us along toward the bag check ahead. When he got to Jess, he said, “Well, goddamn. You boys have been busy. How are you doing tonight, little mama?”
Jess beamed, holding out her wrist for her band. She kept a hold on Lucas’s hand as Robbie let us through.
“Rachel and Mark are up in the lounge!” Robbie called up to us. “I’m sure they’d love to say hello while you’re here!”
“We’ll be looking for them!” Manson yelled back, giving him a thumbs-up.
We reached the landing at the top of the stairs, and paused there to figure out where we wanted to go. Jason was bobbing his head to the music, bouncing with the bass-heavy beat. The shirt he’d chosen was mesh, showing off his muscular physique and the rope I’d bound around his chest in an elaborate harness.
The need to crow about him was irresistible. Wrapping my arms around him from behind, I kissed the top of his head, and he tilted his chin up to look at me.
“You look so damn good,” I said. His grin was wide, joyful and unbridled.
“So do you,” he said, and I kissed him again, on the mouth this time. He tasted like the cider he’d drunk on the way here, mango and apple. Too sweet to resist, I swiped my tongue at the corner of his mouth for another taste.
“Let’s try to get to the VIP booth before we rip each other’s clothes off, yeah?” Manson said.
“Am I going to have to start calling you Father Manson instead of Daddy?” I said, and he rolled his eyes.
“Move it along, ya’ horny bastard,” he said, waving his arm to get me moving. “At least let me sit down before you give me a hard-on.” He took Jess’s hand, so she was walking between him and Lucas as we moved deeper into the club. “Stay close to us. You look too good to be out of my sight.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. Her tone was demure; her expression was anything but. “Although, if you wanted me to heel, you should have brought a leash.”
She batted her eyes at him and I swear I could see his intelligence leaking out his ears. Getting her into the privacy of a VIP booth was high on my priority list and was only getting higher with every passing second.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head, sweetheart,” Lucas said, clipping his teeth close to her ear as if to bite. “Manson always looks after his pets.”
Another short set of stairs led us onto the dance floor. A circular bar occupied the middle of the space, with a massive chandelier above it. The two upper floors looked down upon us, with people dancing and grinding along the railing. Beyond the bar, at the far side of the room, a sea of people danced in front of the DJ on stage. Like naughty Christmas decorations, golden cages stood on pedestals around the room, the dancers within wearing nothing more than thongs and jockstraps.
“This is incredible,” Jess said as she took it all in. There were VIP booths cordoned off along the walls, but the main lounge was upstairs. That was where we were headed after we’d gotten our beverages.
“Were you expecting a grimy basement?” I said. We stayed close to each other as we made our way through the crowd; the club was packed tonight, people pressing close on every side. “Water stains on the walls, concrete floors?”
“Bondage freaks always operate in basements,” Manson said. “Or red rooms.”
“You guys don’t even have a red room,” Jess said, sighing dramatically. “What kind of Dominants are you?”
“I would like a rainbow room, personally,” I said. “Red doesn’t work with my skin tone.”
“We don’t need a goddamn room to destroy you,” Lucas said as we reached the bar. “First round is on me.”
The bar was as packed as the dance floor. Although small, we had a good team of bartenders here. The three working tonight handled the rush without a problem, and although there was a short wait, one of them soon made her way toward us.
“You better be here to work, Vince,” she said as she came to rest her elbows on the bar in front of us. “I’m slammed, if you didn’t notice.”
“Hell no, I’m not working,” I said, leaning across the bar to bump my knuckles to hers. “It’s my night off, Keisha!”
“What kind of asshole spends his night off at work?” she said. “I guess I’m supposed to serve you and all your friends in the middle of a —” She abruptly stopped her taunting when her eyes fell on Jess. Her gaze lit up, and she quickly adjusted her bow tie. “Oh, well, excuse me. Didn’t realize you brought a lady this time. What are you getting, honey?”
“Cosmo, please,” Jess said. Keisha flipped the shaker between her hands as she prepared it, handing it over with a flourish. Such a show-off. Jess plucked her cherry out of the drink first, popping it into her mouth with a smile.
“What’s a girl like you doing with these weirdos?” Keisha said, rubbing orange rind around a glass for Manson’s Sazerac.
“They offered me a damn good deal to fix my car,” Jess said.
“Oh yeah? Let me guess, then they started offering you rides around town since your car was being worked on?” Keisha said.
Jess giggled. “Something like that. There have been a lot of…rides.”
“Short rides, long rides, hard rides…” Manson said.
“Rides in public…” Jason began, and Keisha put her hands up.
“Jesus, all right, I get it, you’re all a bunch of horndogs,” she said, laughing as she shook her head at us. She presented our line of drinks on the bar: the Sazerac for Manson, beer for Lucas, vodka with Redbull for Jason, and a Sex on the Beach for me. Keisha made a face as I took a long sip of the bright orange drink and smacked my lips contentedly.
“You can’t be a normal bartender and just get beer and a shot?” she said. “Mezcal on the rocks, maybe? Where’s your bar-hardened disdain for sugar, Vince?”
“Excuse me for liking things that actually taste good,” I said, poking my toothpick-speared strawberry garnish at her. “I haven’t managed to develop a taste yet for the liquid form of a burned tire.”
“All right, clear out,” Keisha said. “You’ll have me here talking all night and you’re holding up the line.”
We made our way toward the stairs that would take us up to the lounge. Tris wasn’t explicitly a kink club, but the influence the local BDSM community had here was obvious if you knew what to look for. Some people wore collars of leather, metal, or chain. Some were dressed in latex, others in leather. Handkerchiefs of various colors dangled from back pockets, signaling their desires.
We flashed our VIP bands to be allowed upstairs. Booths lined the area, and some already had their silky black privacy curtains drawn. Our own booth was further down, but I wanted to say hello to Rachel and Mark before we settled in. Leading the way to their usual booth, I poked my head around the corner and was unsurprised to find the two already in a compromising position.
Well, the three of them. Rachel and Mark loved to play with others. Rachel had her stilettos resting on a young man’s back as he served as her footrest. Mark was in the midst of pouring more wine for her, decked out in leather, as usual.
Rachel’s face lit up when she saw me. “Vincent! I didn’t know you were here tonight.” She was in her late forties, if I were to make a guess, but it was difficult to tell. She had a face that seemed both young and mature at the same time. Her long dark hair was loose, her voluptuous curves hugged in a form-fitting red dress. “All of you are here! What a pleasure. I feel like we haven’t seen you in ages.”
“We haven’t been here in ages,” Lucas said as she hugged him. She was a tall woman, made even taller by the platform stilettos she always wore. Her height was equal to my own when she stood up.
“Rachel, Mark, this is Jessica,” Manson said, stepping aside so Jess could say hello.
“Added a new one to the pack, have we?” she said. She shook Jess’s hand, giving her a long look up and down. Rachel’s eyes could tear you apart without her needing to say a single word, but Jess made her smile. “Beautiful. They’d better be treating you well.” She lowered her voice as if she was imparting a dark secret. “I did everything I could to train them to be gentlemen; I do hope it worked.”
The first time she spoke and found me lacking, I’d almost pissed my pants. She’d been the one to eventually figure out Manson and I were too young to be sneaking in here, and she’d had to report us. But she still offered us her own time and company; she knew we were coming to Tris because we were interested in getting involved in BDSM, and she insisted on being our mentor.
“You must be a good teacher,” Jess said. “Although, I haven’t gotten them to do that yet.” She looked over at the young man on the ground, who obediently kept his gaze focused on the floor.
Rachel’s laugh was loud and boisterous, easily filling any space she was in. She snapped her fingers, and the man on the ground lifted his head. “Young man, get up. Go fetch another drink for Mark.”
“Yes, Mistress.” He disappeared so fast, I barely got a look at his face. I had to assume he was one of their regular playmates. Rachel and Mark were adventurous, but picky, and they didn’t like playing with those who were inexperienced.
“We won’t keep you too long,” I said, shaking Mark’s hand as he got up to greet us. “Just wanted to say hello and introduce you to the new victim.”
“I prefer Lady Fucktoy, thank you,” Jess said, a disapproving look on her face as she casually examined her nails.
Innocently putting up my hands, I said, “Sorry, sorry. I should have introduced you properly, Lady Fucktoy.”
Jess proudly lifted her chin. “That’s better.”
“You’ve gotten yourselves a brat, I see,” Rachel said, her red-painted claw tracing thoughtfully over her chin. “Perfect for the four of you.”
“I keep them on their toes,” Jess said. She owned her role so confidently now, and I loved to see the pride on her face. Before bringing her here, I’d wondered if being among such a large crowd in a public place would make her feel ashamed again. It was only normal, I wouldn’t have blamed her. Fear of others’ judgment could be stifling.
But she seemed more confident now than I’d ever seen her. She carried herself like royalty, carefully skirting the line between respect and cheekiness when she spoke to us. Personally, I did not enjoy unquestioning submission. We all liked a challenge, and Jess had found the sweet spot between perfect obedience and playful defiance.
“As you should,” Mark said, and Rachel lightly smacked his arm.
“It’s very naughty to encourage disobedience,” she said, and although the man tried to appear contrite, it was all in fun. Rachel gripped his jaw to kiss him, her sharp nails leaving red marks on his skin. “What do you think of Tris so far, Jessica? Is it your first time here?”
“It is,” Jess said. “I’ve been to a lot of clubs, but never one quite like this. I love it. It feels…it feels free.”
“We felt the same way when we first came here,” Mark said.
“When you’ve spent a long time trying to disguise who you are, that first place of freedom you find will always be special,” Rachel said. “The power of a community who supports you really can’t be underestimated. That’s why we make ourselves available as mentors.”
“Supporting the next generation of kinky folks keeps the community headed in the right direction,” Mark said. He chuckled as he patted Manson on the back. “I seem to remember this one waltzing in here not only lying about his age, but about his experience!”
Manson winced at the memory, a rare sheepish look on his face. “I spent a bit too much time ‘educating’ myself on BDSM fantasy blogs,” he explained to Jess. “I may have once told Mark a very extended lie about being an expert with a bullwhip.”
Jessica’s eyes widened, and she laughed when Rachel added, “We figured out his lie the moment I actually put a whip in his hands.”
Jessica, Rachel, and Manson went on chatting. Lucas had edged further into the booth and away from the people walking by. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and perhaps to most people, he looked slightly bored.
I knew him too well to be fooled by that. He was nervous being in public. The crowds, the sounds, the claustrophobia of being trapped inside with limited exits.
“Been a while since you went out?” Mark said, speaking to Lucas and snapping the man out of his distant expression.
“Yeah, I guess it has,” he said. He watched a group of people as they passed, eyes narrowed at their laughter. “Every time I’ve left the house lately has turned out to be a shitshow for me. Hard to get excited about going out when you have to wonder if you’ll end up fighting for your life.”
Mark nodded, his gaze downcast in understanding. “Too many of us have had to spend our lives living in fear. But that’s exactly what they want. The folks who claim to hate you, those who are willing to hurt you, they’d prefer that we all stay hidden away. When judging and shaming us doesn’t work, they’ll try violence. Then they’ll offer thoughts and prayers when people end up dead on account of their hate.”
Someone laughed too loudly behind him and Lucas flinched again. But this time, slowly, Jason grasped Lucas’s arm and drew close to him, positioning his body between Lucas and the walkway. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t need to.
We protected our own. We had to.
“The world isn’t a very friendly place,” Lucas said. But his voice softened, some of the tension gone out of it. He stood a little taller when Jason touched him, as if he’d suddenly remembered who he was. “It’s not so bad when you have the right people though. I just get caught up in my head sometimes.”
It wasn’t that simple, we all knew it. Finding that line between living with caution and living in fear seemed almost impossible sometimes. Lucas had plenty to fear. We all did.
We chatted for a few minutes longer, before we left Rachel and Mark to enjoy their night. As we left their booth, I put my arm around Lucas’s shoulders, gave him a kiss on the cheek that made him groan at the affection, and said softly, “You’re being really damn brave, you know.”
He winced, looking at me as if in pain. “Don’t start saying nice things to me, man. Come on, I’m…I don’t…” He sighed. “Thank you.”
Manson overhead us, because he looked over his shoulder and said, “Hey, be gentle with him. Being forced to listen to nice things about himself is a soft limit.”
Jess fell into step alongside me, saying, “We’re going to need to push that limit a bit more.”
I was eager for Jess to get a look at our own VIP booth, so I grasped her hand as I led the way. Our booth was at the very end of the walkway, right above the DJ. A large sectional black couch occupied the majority of the space, with a low glass table in the middle. A bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket on the table, alongside multiple glasses. The back wall and ceiling were mirrors, and the lights that dangled overhead were designed in long strips, like glowing streaks of rain.
Manson took a seat, spreading his legs comfortably. Lucas moved to sit beside him, but Manson stopped him with a hand on his chest.
“On your knees,” he said, pointing to the floor between his legs. “Where pups belong.”
The curtain surrounding our booth was still open, and anyone who passed could easily see inside. I flopped down comfortably on the couch, stretching my arms as Jason sat beside me. Jess hesitated for a moment, torn between sitting at my side or joining Manson and Lucas.
Manson made the choice easy for her. “You too, angel. Get over here.”
Happy to watch the show, I sipped my drink and settled in.
