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“Okay, now bow your head.”
Butch did as he asked, and Sol caught his breath at the sight of his broad shoulders, his muscled back that narrowed at the waist.
Oh my God,lookat him.
An image flickered through his mind of Butch kneeling before him, hands behind his back, Sol’s fingers through his hair while Butch’s head bobbed back and forth, his mouth warm on Sol’s steel-like cock—
“Sol?” Toby’s voice broke through. “Are we done now? It’s getting kinda late.”
Sol gave himself a mental shove. “Yup, we’re done. Thanks, Butch. You can take that collar off now.” He lowered the camera, placing it strategically in front of his crotch.
Butch stood, and once again, Sol caught sight of the Roman numerals tattoo. On impulse, he raised the camera and clicked. That photo was not for public consumption—he wanted a better look without drawing Butch’s attention to his scrutiny.
Why would he have a date tattooed onto his arm?
And what was the significance of that date?
“Thanks, guys, you were amazing.” Toby beamed. “I can’t thank you enough for all this.” His eyes twinkled. “And some of you went further than I imagined you would.”
Teague nudged Matt with his elbow. “He’s talking about you,” he said with a grin.
Matt’s bashful smile was adorable.
“It was worth it to get to see inside this place.” Walt grinned. “And in my opinion? Zeeb missed out. He wouldsohave loved this.”
“So would Paul,” Butch added. “He’s been curious about this. Hell, we all have.”
“They could’ve come too,” Sol told them. “I wouldn’t have minded.” He glanced at Matt with a grin. “And Mattdefinitelywouldn’t have minded.”
That raised a ripple of laughter.
Teague chuckled. “Zeeb’s busy planning his fortieth shindig. And Paul said something about not feeling so good.”
“That’s too bad.” Toby frowned. “I hope he’s okay.”
“He went to bed early,” Teague informed him. “I’m sure he’ll be right as rain in the morning.” He gave Sol a nod. “That was… entertaining.”
Sol fired Toby a glance, and Toby nodded.
It was time.
“Er, guys? Before you go?” Toby cleared his throat. “There’s something I have to say, and it’s important, so listen up, please.”
They all stood still, their gazes locked on him. Sol could understand that reaction—he’d heard Toby use that tone so many times at the club, and it never failed to get everyone’s attention.
“I know you had a few laughs tonight, but you need to bear in mind that BDSM isn’t just fun and games.” Toby gestured to the equipment and the cabinets. “All of this? It’s a part of people’s lives, their relationships. You know, likemylife?”
The silence was almost tangible.
“Behind all of this stuff, there are people, and you’re going to meet them. So get your blushes and giggles out of the way now, because when we open, I want you to be professional. You might not understand some of the kinks our guests enjoy, but I want you to be respectful of them.” He paused. “There’s a fetish event in San Francisco, called Folsom. And in recent years, it’s become a tourist event too. ‘Let’s go stare at the guys in leather—and more—and take pictures,’” he air-quoted. “So whatever you see taking place on this ranch during those weeks? It’s not meant as entertainment. And I’m not just talking about what goes on in here.”
“Now you’ve got me curious,” Teague remarked. “What might we see?”
Toby hesitated, and Sol longed to jump in and say something, but they’d talked about this.
“We don’t get a lot of couples here, right? And if we do, the men sleep on the first floor, and the women on the second. Well, that right there is an important difference. Above us are bedrooms—and they’re big enough for couples, maybe even three people. And yes, you might see that too. We want them to feel relaxed while they’re here. They have to know this is a safe space, safe enough that they can be themselves and no one is going to gawk at them or take photos.”
“I think what Toby is saying is that these guests have a different… dynamic,” Sol added.
