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Joel whimpered in the kiss, and all I could think about was how lovely he’d sound after being bound and teased for a couple hours. How he’d beg…
“Have fun?” I whispered to him, as his eyes were glossing over.
“I like ‘im,” he confirmed, but added quickly, “Not like y’all, though, jus’ like a friend!”
“I know. It’s okay, Joel, we want you to have good friends.”
All through dinner, Joel and Xen played, silently, laughing and poking at one another. The three of us watched, transfixed on the boys. Joel was like a kid, grinning and giggling, and Xen, the sweetheart he was, didn’t neglect his husband, though. He’d turn to him, kissing his cheek often, whispering in his ear a few times, getting the big man to blush.
Joel wasn’t a slouch there. He’d rest his hand on my thigh, then slide it slowly up to my crotch, teasing me terribly. Let’s just say, dinner was an event, and a good time was had by all.
Then, after dinner, we talked them into spending the night with us. It was a long drive back, and they had an employee to handle things in the morning with their animals. Memphis agreed immediately, especially when Xen placed his hands together, like he was praying, and gave him huge, puppy-dog eyes that melted the big cowboy.
“Well, hell, fine,” he gave, then swatted Xen’s ass as he and Joel got up to leave the house for the yard. “They are somethin’.”
“I’ve never even thought Joel could get close to someone that fast. It’s nice for him. I don’t think he has a lot of friends,” Damon observed. “We’d like to fix that.”
“You were talkin’ ‘bout this club yer startin’? We love Chaps, o’ course, but we’d like a change o’ scenery now and then. Tell me about it.”
This is where I shined, I was told, when speaking about the club, that, by the day, seemed closer to completion. The pictures started in my mind of it as I spoke, and I felt the excitement growing. “It won’t be grand, won’t house hundreds, because I doubt we’ll have that many members, way out here. Once word spreads, I think a few people will come.
“It’s all set to have an old west theme, but clean, modern equipment that we’ve contracted a man to make look like things you’d find on a ranch or in an old saloon.”
“I don’t get it,” he said with his brows low. “How you makin’ that?”
Damon interjected, “Spanking benches to resemble sawhorses, St. Andrew’s Crosses to be rough wood, like barn wood, but we’ll add laminate to make it smooth, so no worries over splinters, and old-timey manacles instead of new cuffs.” He laughed and leaned in to add, “And those rocking horses, like at parks, for the littles and just for fun.”
Memphis got a kick out of that. “I might have to make Xen get on one. He hates when I do shit like that. Makes him madder ‘an a wet hen, but horny as hell too.”
“Nice,” Damon hummed.
I continued, “We’ll have five booths, all with high sides and a saloon door hung low to cover what happens on the seats, under the table. There’re going to be several…and I love this, hitching posts where you can secure a leash to and leave your boy there while you mingle around.”
He slapped the knee that was crossed over his other leg and laughed at that. “Brilliant!”
“A few tables will look like old bars,” Damon bragged. “That was Joel’s idea. A bar façade with big mirrors in back so you can have an intimate place to sit, but still catch any action in the mirror.”
“They’ll be ropes on walls that will be decorative as well as practical, a stage in the corner, and that took forever for us to agree on.”
Damon explained, “I wanted it against one wall, he wanted it in the middle of the space. We compromised for it to take up one corner instead, and it worked out perfectly.”
“Sounds like it. Sign me up, and I’ll get the word out to my friends.” He stopped and asked, “This gonna be a club for every night, or…?”
“No. We knew that wouldn’t be practical at all, we’re too far from anyone here. We’re only having weekend excursions, planned weekends with newsletters going out to our paid members. Once a month, maybe to start, holidays we’ll be open longer, like a week at a time, a week a month in the summer. We’re not sure yet, about those, but we’re doing the numbers.”
“And to stay where?”
“We have a guesthouse the contractor said can hold three to four rooms, if we cut the living room in half. It’ll be like a bed and breakfast. Then, we plan three separate cabins to start, with a bed and a bath in each. We have the room for eight, but we want to wait to see how much patronage we get first.”
Damon, likely thinking of our architect, added, “We also plan an outer fence that’s privacy height, then an inner fence for the boundaries of where the guests are allowed to…have more natural excursions. We recently had a wonderful time…well, this may sound worse than it was, but we hunted a man down and…”
“No shit? That sounds…freaky, but fun as all hell!”
I had an idea and didn’t know if he was the right one to speak to, but I decided to ask. “Memphis, your friends in Denver, the ones that own Slutae, do they ever do deals with clubs or stores, where they provide the essentials, condoms, lube and things, in exchange for advertising?”
“Sure, they do. All the clothes the go-go boys at Chaps wear are from them, the lube and such too, the sex toys, all of it. When they did that, business tripled for their store and for the club, I’m told.”
“They’re not exclusive to Chaps?”
