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That makes Clay chuckle.
“It’s funny you say that because I think Bell flirts with everyone. It’s part of her job, and she’s damn good at it. But again, I’ve known Bell for years, and really, she’s only interested in men when it comes to getting intimate.”
I nod thoughtfully, but then shoot him another look.
“But wait, if you’re friends with Bellarmine, and you’re the exception to the rule, then it means you never needed me as your date to begin with.” Clay smirks, a knowing grin spread across his handsome face.
“Yeah, that’s right. I just wanted an excuse to take you out, sweetheart. Can you blame me? Who wouldn’t want you on their arm?”
I gasp.
“Clay!” I exclaim. “Really?”
He merely shrugs and grins again. “I caught you at a naughty moment, and I wanted to see what else you could do, honey. Believe me, I was very pleased with the outcome, and you had fun too, didn’t you?” he asks. At that, I laugh and nod my head.
“Yes, definitely.” But then I look at my forgotten fries, my smile fading.
“What is it darling?” Clay asks, sensing my change in mood.
“Well, it’s just that I know I’ve given you this impression of myself as sexy and naughty, but it only goes so far. I’m … well, it’s just that I’m not comfortable doing the things I saw those other folks doing at the club. I’m not into pain, like the hot wax that man dripped on his partner’s back door. And blood and serious bruises? I don’t think I’d be into that. It’s too crazy,” I say, my voice trailing off nervously. I hold my breath, hoping that this doesn’t turn my date off, but he merely smiles again and takes my hand.
“That’s fine, honey. I’d never pressure you into doing anything you aren’t comfortable with, and the club can get pretty crazy at times. But tell me: what do you like?”
I think for a moment before responding, tapping a nervous finger on the tabletop. “I liked the exhibitionism, and the voyeurism added a lot to the experience, too,” I confess with a shy blush. “But I don’t want to do anything else. No blood, no choking, nothing like that.”
Clay quirks a black brow at me.
“So gangbangs are out?”
“What?” I gasp, my jaw dropping to the ground. “Excuse me?”
He merely chuckles, squeezing my hand.
“I’m sorry, honey, it was just a joke. I wouldn’t want you to be in a gangbang either because that beautiful body belongs only to me, and I’m not going to let another man touch it.”
I breathe hard, trying to recover.
“That was not funny, Clay.”
He shoots me an apologetic look, even if the corners of his mouth are still quirking with laughter.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I won’t do it again, and I absolutely respect your boundaries. On another note though, I do suspect that as you get more involved with the scene and grow more comfortable with these new ideas, that you’ll be interested in trying more. I think you would like some other types of play, based on what I saw at the candy shop,” he smiles. But I adamantly shake my head no.
“Definitely not. Gangbangs or anything like that are out.”
Clay roars with laughter then, his eyes mirthful.
“Okay, okay, totally get it. Nothing with multiple partners, or anything that’s too raunchy and disgusting. But you’ll let me know as things develop, okay sweetheart? I promise your thinking’s going to change as you grow more accustomed to the lifestyle. You’ve already picked up a lot, Kitty, and I’m impressed. I think you’ll find that it grows on you as time goes on,” he winks before feeding me a fry.
I chew while crossing my arms over my chest and shooting him a mock-dirty look. At the moment, I’m definitely not interested in delving deeper into the lifestyle. But what if Clay is right? What if I want to explore in the future? Well, I guess I’m lucky to have this handsome man with me every step of the way.
6
Clay
I watch as my friend Freddie lines up to putt. He’s dressed flamboyantly in silver golf pants and a hot pink golf shirt, which look garish on the green, but then, that’s Freddie for you. He’s the most effeminate man I’ve ever encountered in my life, although my buddy’s definitely straight. Surprisingly enough, Fred even has a type when it comes to women: he likes petite blonde girls who are nothing more than skin on bones, preferably with an accent. My type just happens to be the precise opposite of his, but hell, it’s kept us from fighting over chicks all these years.
Freddie wears a silver fedora which flies off suddenly with a gust of wind.
“Oh drat!” he exclaims before retrieving it from a nearby bush. “I can’t be losing this thing,” he chortles. “It cost me five hundred bucks.”
