Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I chuckle. He knows me pretty well.
He waits at a table for me to finish my shift, and then we head over to the leather shop. Neither of us has cars, so we Uber to the Otterly Fantastic Leather shop, which is attached to the main leather club in town.
Peter and I swung by here for stuff for parties a few times during our relationship.
The place is packed with leather and chains of varying lengths and sizes. Mannequins in harnesses, jackets, and pants are placed around the space and whips, collars, and paddles are proudly displayed across the walls. On the far end of the room, a magazine rack shows off a collection of naughty magazines with naked and near-naked bears and twinks, dressed in the sort of gear someone could purchase from a place like this.
I’m so out of my depth, it isn’t even funny.
Even just perusing some of the boxed toys along the way, I have to acknowledge I’ve only seen some of these things in porn. But for the most part, I feel like I need a guide to understand what half this shit is…or how I’d use it in the bedroom.
Behind the front register, beside a glass case with various locks and keys, a beefy guy in a leather vest and cap reads on a Kindle. He has a sleeve tat that I can’t really make out. There’s some kind of bird that appears to be wrestling in a patch of thorns.
He has an eyebrow piercing and wears a serious, stoic expression. This is not the kind of guy I would feel comfortable approaching in a bar.
As Derek leads us farther into the place, I feel my anxiety rushing to my chest again like it did earlier at work.
I take deep, steady breaths, the way I’ve learned to do in therapy over the years.
It’s just like my first day of work at the coffee shop. I was nervous and a little freaked out, but I made it through and now I don’t even get nervous on most days.
While I’m sitting here thinking this could set off a panic attack, Derek walks around the place like he works here. “Hey, Z,” he says.
The guy glances up from his Kindle and offers a warm smile as Derek fearlessly approaches him, me following in tow.
Derek sidles up beside the counter Z leans against, and they bump fists.
“How’s Jackson doing?” Z asks.
“He’s great. This is my friend, Evan, by the way. He’s a big ole bottom. You guys would get along great.”
Z’s gaze shifts to me, his smile expanding across his face.
Meanwhile, I’m sure I look like a cherry.
“Derek!” I say.
“I kid, I kid.” Derek wraps his arm around me. “I’m sure he tops too.” But as he speaks the words, he shakes his head, and I can’t help but laugh.
Derek manages to activate all my insecurities as well as tear them down all at once—something I know has been good for me too.
Z reaches over the counter, and I take his hand for a shake, his eyes narrowing. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
“Evan’s kind of a big deal,” Derek notes. “You probably recognize him ’cause he’s famous. Evan, do sexface.”
“I’m not doing that,” I say.
“Do…it…” he presses, so I submit, pursing my lips and arching my brows in my signature modeling expression.
“Oh, that looks much more familiar,” Z says with a smile.
“Yeah, he does a lot of modeling,” Derek says. “Mostly in underwear.”
“Did,” I emphasize. “I’m not doing that anymore.”
After working with my therapist, I realized that modeling was only adding to my depression and self-esteem issues, which was one of the reasons I decided I needed to look for a new sort of job…which led me to the coffeehouse.
“Well, it’s very nice meeting a celebrity, Evan,” Z says with a wink.
I feel so stupid about how intimidating he seemed when I first saw him, especially considering how friendly he’s being and how warm his smile is.
“Is there anything I can help either of you naughty little twinks with?” Z asks.
“Do you have any other harnesses than what’s on display? I need something a little extra small for the little guy. I know you keep all the good stuff for my people in the back.”
Z chuckles. “We just like seeing the twinks beg. I’ll go see what we’ve got.”
He heads through a door to the back, and as he does, I notice something on display by the door—a black puppy hood with blue across the snout, ears, and brow.
I noticed a similar one the few times Peter and I were here together.
But it’s moved from where it was before—I guess since they’ve redone the layout of the store a bit.
I feel my face warming like when Derek told Z I’m a “big ole bottom” because it reminds me of when Peter caught me checking it out and started making fun of me, telling me that I should go ahead and bark for him.