Beginners luck, p.3
Beginner's Luck, page 3
Jay studied Aaron’s face as if trying to discern if Aaron was being earnest. One by one, his features softened, and his eyes gleamed with emotion. The weight of the moment hung in the air between them, making Aaron wonder if Jay had anyone in his life to remind him to put himself first.
As the heavy silence stretched, he resorted to his favorite strategy for when things got too serious—making jokes. “Don’t abuse it though! I’ll notice if you happen to get a migraine every time I talk about Star Trek.”
Jay let out a surprised chuckle. “Not a chance. If anything, you might feel one coming on after my thorough and lengthy breakdown of which captain was best.”
“I would love to hear this thorough breakdown and present an equally thorough rebuttal.”
Jay shook his head with a smile, then fixed Aaron with a searching look. “I appreciate you being so cool about this, and I won’t bring it up again, but I have to ask something first.”
Aaron braced himself, not sure what to expect. Jay cleared his throat and swept his gaze across the club. “I’ve been coming to the club every night for the past week, hoping to run into you.”
Jay fidgeted with his hands as he talked, and Aaron wanted nothing more than to reach over and cover them with his own. He had to remind himself that despite his instant attraction to Jay, they barely knew each other. Holding Jay’s hand wasn’t on the menu.
He shook the urge off and focused on what Jay was saying.
“You haven’t been here. At least I haven’t seen you. Have you…been avoiding coming to the club because of me?”
“Oh, Jay.” Aaron couldn’t help it—he reached out to trail his hand along Jay’s shoulder and down his arm, ending with a reassuring squeeze on the wrist. “You’re so sweet to worry about a random stranger’s feelings. I promise, it had nothing to do with you. I was out of town most of the week, and then I was catching up at work.”
Jay looked relieved, and a twinge of tenderness clenched Aaron’s chest. This sweet, confident guy with a perpetual smile on his face was turning out to be deceptively deep. Aaron felt a strange desire to protect Jay from the world, to keep him safe from taking on a pile of emotional burdens that weren’t his to bear.
He reluctantly let go of Jay’s wrist. Jay watched the movement before responding. “I’m glad it wasn’t me. Did you go on vacation?”
“Not quite.” This conversation was coming up a lot quicker than expected, but it was Aaron’s fault for volunteering the information. Might as well lay it all out there. “I went back to Philadelphia to help my ex-husband finalize the sale of our house and grab the last of my boxes.”
A look of shock washed over Jay’s face, his eyebrows shooting up.
“Yeah,” Aaron admitted with a self-deprecating shrug. “I just got divorced. Right before I moved here, actually.” When Jay didn’t respond, Aaron went on. “We’re still really good friends, so I spent some time with him and his girlfriend. We went out to dinner to celebrate the sale, although that might have been an excuse to eat fancy sushi.”
Jay’s strange reaction puzzled him. Sure, divorce wasn’t great, but what were the chances of a young guy at a BDSM club being particularly judgmental about it?
Thankfully, Jay snapped out of it at the mention of sushi. “Oh, sushi’s amazing! There’s this place right next to my office, and I’ve been obsessing over their deep-fried spicy tuna roll for the past month.”
If Jay wanted to skip over the divorce thing, Aaron was happy to oblige.
“I will accept your deep-fried roll and raise you the double-deep-fried monstrosity I had in Louisiana. They deep-fried sweet potatoes, wrapped them in rice, and fried the whole thing again. Absolute heaven.” Aaron laughed at Jay’s horrified expression. Bantering with him felt natural, as if they were old friends rather than two strangers who’d barely spent an hour together. He didn’t know why, but being around Jay felt comfortable and safe.
The evening drifted by in a warm haze of their easy back-and-forth. Their couch was a bubble, isolated from the shifting tide of bodies filling the club. Aaron forgot he was there to watch and learn, instead pressing into Jay’s side as they shared personal tidbits, pop culture opinions, and favorite food memories.
They tried to outdo each other when it came to telling stories. Aaron delivered a passionate monologue about being a pescetarian in a city obsessed with cheesesteaks, which Jay followed up with a dramatic retelling of his thought process during a month-long juice cleanse, which, in his case, only lasted six days.
At some point during their animated discussion, they discovered they had the same favorite TV shows, and spent fifteen minutes blurting out quotes in between fits of giggles. A few people nearby cast lingering glances their way, eyebrows lifting with curiosity. It had to be an unusual sight—two fully clothed men grinning at each other in a dark corner, paying no mind to the enticing debauchery that surrounded them.
Several regulars approached them throughout the night, greeting Jay and giving Aaron coy smiles before moving on. He didn’t know what Jay usually did at the club, but he had an inkling that whatever was happening between the two of them was out of the ordinary.
Not that he was going to question his good luck. Aaron hadn’t had this much fun in a long time, and he wished the night would never end. The conversation flowed smoothly, seamlessly jumping from one topic to the next, silly moments of laughter balancing out the stretches of genuine discussion.
The subject eventually turned to downtown Chicago. By a strange coincidence, it turned out that Aaron’s job was just down the street from Jay’s. Always up for a leisurely walk, Aaron quizzed him about the parks in the area, but despite growing up in Chicago, Jay’s knowledge of parks left much to be desired. Aaron teased him about it until Jay admitted to living in the suburbs and avoiding downtown as much as possible.
When Aaron checked his watch, it was well past midnight. They’d spent the entire night with each other.
He couldn’t wait for more.
Kink Talk
SubSequins: Question for the group. If I’m dating people in the lifestyle, should I tell them I’m totally new to the whole thing right off the bat or after a few dates? Has anyone run into people being dicks about it?
SubLily: I think it’s better to get it all out in the open right away.
DomAndDommer: I would want to know early. Maybe not as soon as we meet, but like after one or two dates? I don’t mind either way, but it’d be good to know so I could ease them in.
DommyBoy: I vote for right away—better to filter out anyone who’s going to be weird about it early on so you don’t waste your time.
SubMarine: I think you should wait. No need to bring it up until you get to know each other on equal footing.
SubLily: Are you suggesting that being inexperienced makes you less than equal?
SubMarine: Feels that way. It makes you vulnerable because you’re putting your trust in them to guide you.
DomicronPersei8: I feel like this conversation would go differently if Sequins was a Dom.
DommyBoy: True.
SubAir: Hot take here, but I don’t plan on telling. I’ll admit to being kinda inexperienced, but fuck if I’m going to admit to being a 40-year old BDSM virgin.
SubSequins: Wouldn’t that undermine the trust you’re building with your Dom?
SubAir: I can offer someone my trust without laying myself completely bare.
Chapter 4
AARON
On Tuesday morning, Aaron sat at his desk and googled every sushi place within a five-block radius, scouring their menus for a deep-fried spicy tuna roll. He needed to find Jay’s lunch spot. With multiple early-morning meetings scheduled for the week ahead, he wouldn’t have an opportunity to visit Chain Reaction until the weekend, and he didn’t want to go that long without seeing Jay.
After spending Friday night talking to Jay, Aaron was hooked. He’d gone back the next night, pleased to see Jay waiting for him on their couch.
Their couch.
Ridiculous. Aaron wasn’t even sure if Jay was gay, let alone if he was interested in Aaron beyond friendship, and yet that black leather sofa where hundreds of people had probably had sex was forever theirs in his mind.
Jay had taken it upon himself to give Aaron the grand tour of the club with stops along the way to introduce him to the regulars. Everyone was friendly, smiling and making small talk to make him feel included, but no one could hold a candle to Jay. Being with Jay carried a thrill of warmth and excitement—a stark contrast to Aaron’s routine of spending his days either working or alone in his halfway-unpacked apartment. Usually, Aaron enjoyed, and often craved, solitude, but ever since moving to Chicago, he’d been feeling uneasy. Restless. Like he was on the verge of something big. Something momentous. Something slightly out of reach and blurry around the edges.
Now it was two days later, and Aaron already missed Jay. He wanted to see him soon. Today. Right now. Aaron craved his easy companionship and effortless conversation, addicted to memorizing Jay’s face and softly tracing each feature with his eyes. Why hadn’t he asked for his phone number?
The next best option was to show up at Jay’s favorite lunch spot and hope he was there.
He left his office a few minutes before noon, hoping to beat the rush. On a whim, he stuck his head next door to check on Zoe, their director of HR. “I’m going out for lunch. Want anything?” he asked, pausing as his eyes wandered over the room. He hadn’t expected the burst of color—the vibrant prints on the walls, the tiny plants lining the windowsill, the cheerful chaos of books and trinkets. They had been neighbors for months, and Aaron had never been inside her office before. A tendril of guilt slithered through him.
He would try to be a better coworker going forward.
Zoe quirked an eyebrow at Aaron’s question. “You’ve been here for…three months? And this is the first time you’re leaving the office during the day, or even acknowledging lunch, for that matter.”
“It’s nice to take a break once in a while,” Aaron said with a smile. He already liked Zoe’s dry sense of humor.
“Yeah, the rest of us have already figured that out,” she teased. “I’m leaving in a few minutes myself, so nothing for me, but thank you for checking.”
Aaron nodded and walked to the elevators. Zoe wasn’t wrong. It was unusual for him to leave during the day. He wasn’t a workaholic by any means, but this new job had forced him to dive into multiple projects on day one, and he’d barely surfaced for a breath. He could only imagine what his coworkers thought of him.
The sushi place turned out to be a casual sit-down restaurant. Most tables were empty, but there was already a steady stream of people walking in and flagging down the host.
Aaron wasn’t sure what to do next. After seating himself, making sure he had a clear view of the door, he cracked open the menu. Maybe if he took his time, fate would take care of the rest.
Fate didn’t make him wait long. As soon as he set down the menu, Jay’s voice cut across the restaurant, “Aaron?”
Aaron’s head snapped up against his will, heart thudding a little too fast. Jay was threading his way between half-full tables toward him. His black tee wasn’t as tight as the ones he wore to the club, but otherwise, he looked the same—black shirt, black jeans, delicious dark stubble dotting his jawline.
Aaron tried not to drool.
“Anyone sitting here?” Jay asked, gesturing at the other chair. His surprised expression had morphed into a playful smile as he waited for Aaron’s response.
“Go ahead.” Aaron gestured to the seat, his mood suddenly soaring. He studied Jay’s face, noticing every detail in the full light of day. Jay’s eyes, so dark in the dim lighting of the club, were actually a beautiful brown, the color rich and warm under the jet-black of his long eyelashes.
“I almost didn’t recognize you. Had to do a double take.” Jay leaned forward. “You look very different in a suit. In a good way.”
Aaron offered a shy smile in exchange for the compliment. Business casual had always been the norm at work, but Aaron liked how suits made him feel—a little stronger, a little more put together. None of them were particularly expensive or designer, but each one was tailored to highlight his frame instead of overwhelming it, so Jay’s compliment flattered him more than he would admit.
Before he could respond, a harried server dropped off a menu in front of Jay without slowing down. Aaron watched her zigzag across the restaurant, a stack of laminated sheets in one arm, a pitcher of water in the other. The place was filling up fast. The air vibrated with the overlapping chatter of multiple conversations, making it impossible to hear anything from more than a few feet away. “This place is really busy. Must be fantastic.”
“It’s one of my favorites. I usually come here for lunch when I’m in the office.” Jay glanced at the list of lunch specials before pushing it to the side. “I always get the same thing.”
“The deep-fried mouthgasm. I remember.” Aaron shot Jay a mischievous smile. “That’s how I found you.”
Jay tilted his head in confusion. “You remembered a random thing I said about my favorite lunch place and managed to track me down based on that?”
“Well, you made it sound too delicious to resist,” Aaron chuckled, choosing to sidestep the question. He was too old to play games and pretend he was there by coincidence, but that didn’t mean he had to be completely honest about how much he’d wanted to see Jay.
“What would you like?” The server appeared out of nowhere, pen poised over her battered notepad.
Jay gave Aaron a nod, letting him order first.
“I’d love a large bowl of miso soup, and a deep-fried spicy tuna roll,” Aaron said, watching her scribble a quick note.
“Same roll for me and a house salad, no tomatoes, please.” Jay had barely finished the sentence before she grabbed their menus and took off.
“There’s not a lot left without tomatoes. Not a fan?”
“I’m actually allergic to tomatoes,” Jay said with some reticence. “It’s a really mild allergy, though. Nothing deadly, just my face getting hot and itchy. And just raw tomatoes. I don’t react to things like ketchup or marinara sauce.”
“That’s the first time I’ve seen someone try to backpedal from having an allergy. It’s not a weakness, you know.” Aaron didn’t like Jay’s embarrassment. He’d never understood the weird mindset of seeing medical conditions as character flaws.
“Ehh…” Jay trailed off. “Hey, you never told me what you do, just that your office is around here. Now, seeing how you dress for work, I’m curious.”
“Want to take a guess?” Aaron flashed his best attempt at a self-important smile as he adjusted his suit jacket. Jay wouldn’t guess correctly—no one ever did—but his guess would be telling.
Jay hummed in thought. His eyes followed Aaron’s movements as he adjusted the knot on the dark purple tie, then trailed back up to Aaron’s face, lingering on his mouth. Aaron had a sudden urge to lick his lips to see Jay’s reaction but fought against it. If his inklings of Jay’s attraction were wrong, which they probably were, he’d come off as a creep.
“I honestly have no idea,” Jay admitted after a brief silence. “You look really serious, so maybe finance? Ooh, or maybe cybersecurity?”
Aaron let out a quick laugh. “Nothing that exciting. Director of strategy for a nonprofit, which, I know, sounds like a fake job. I’ve heard that before.”
“Is that like…do you decide what the company goals should be and the vision and all that?”
“In a nutshell, yes. Steering the organization in changing big-picture stuff.”
“That’s interesting. I’ve never met anyone in that line of work. Our start-up doesn’t have anything like that, just a marketing department. Our CEO came up with our mission statement after a night of drinking at a conference, or at least that’s the canon around the office. Here, I’ll show it to you. You can give your professional opinion,” Jay said, pulling out his phone.
For as long as he’d been in the industry, people had always been dismissive about Aaron’s job. He’d heard enough of Oh, so like HR? and So do you actually do anything? to expect a positive response when talking about his job, but Jay’s reaction had been perfect—he didn’t pretend to understand the nuances, but he acknowledged their existence, giving Aaron a sense of validation he didn’t know he craved.
Jay was scrolling through his phone when their server returned. Without a word, she set down a large bowl of soup and a plate of salad before dashing away. Thick, juicy chunks of tomato rested on top of a bed of lettuce and shaved carrots.
Aaron’s head snapped up in her direction. “Excuse me?” he called after her, but she was already halfway across the restaurant.
“It’s okay, I can fish them out,” Jay said with a resigned expression.
Aaron shook his head, refusing to entertain the idea. “Even if you do that, the lettuce is soaked in tomato juices. Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, laser-focused on the server as she headed back in their direction. As soon as she was close, he hopped up to get her attention. “Excuse me?”
She approached with an expectant look on her face.
“We ordered this salad without tomatoes.” Aaron gestured to Jay’s plate.
“You can just pick them off,” she said with an annoyed look. “It’s the lunch rush.”
“Look, I know it’s really busy and chaotic in here, but he specified no tomatoes because he’s allergic. Even if he picks them out, the whole thing’s already contaminated.” Aaron added a touch of steel to his voice, echoing the tone he used at work to project confidence. “Could you please get us a fresh salad?”
The server stared at Aaron for a few tense seconds. He hoped she would choose to be helpful. Creating a scene wasn’t his style, but he wasn’t willing to let this go. Jay deserved someone to stand up for him.
She must have seen the determination in his face because she turned to Jay, her shoulders slumped. “Yeah. Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll get you a new salad. I just…it’s so busy.”
