Beginners luck, p.5
Beginner's Luck, page 5
“I missed you. Sorry I haven’t been around,” Jay said. His dad waved him off with a smile and handed him a plate.
For the next few minutes, everyone walked around the table in the slowest game of musical chairs while filling their plates. Jay loaded his with rice and ladled the stew on top before sitting next to Paul, who’d already started eating.
Before he had a chance to take a bite, his mom leaned across the table to examine his plate. “You do not have any vegetables. Here.” She thrust a bowl at him. “Eat some tabbouleh. The boys made it themselves.”
“Tomatoes, cucumbers, mint, all from the garden. Always better fresh,” his dad added proudly.
Jay reached for it when a strange impulse overcame him. The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying.
“I can’t have any. It has tomatoes.”
His words hung in the air before his mom tried again. “You can have a little. It is really good.”
It would be easier to accept the offer, but he’d made it this far. He might as well see it through.
“I recently found out that mild allergies can get worse with repeated exposure, so if I keep eating tomatoes, my reaction might change from a burning, itchy face to something more serious.” He swallowed nervously. “As much as I hate the burning, I definitely don’t want my throat swelling shut.”
His mom’s expression morphed to a look of horror as she snatched the bowl back and set it on the other side of the table, as if worried Jay might change his mind and accept it. “Jahan, dear, I had no idea! Did you know?” she demanded of his dad, who shook his head.
“Wait, what’s happening?” Layla looked at Jay in curiosity.
“I’m allergic to tomatoes, remember?”
“Uhh, no, I don’t remember? What? You eat tomatoes all the time.” She scrunched her face in confusion.
“Well, it’s a mild allergy. My face gets really hot, like burning, and really itchy.”
“Dude, that sounds uncomfortable.” Paul’s words were muffled by his chewing.
“You are not allowed to have any more tomatoes!” his mom announced in her strictest tone of voice as his dad nodded along.
He grinned at her, his heart a million pounds lighter. “Yes, Mom.” He gave a mock salute and took a bite of his food, putting an end to the conversation.
Throughout dinner, his mom kept shooting worried glances his way, and Jay knew all future meals would be meticulously prepared to exclude tomatoes. Maybe he should have had this conversation sooner, but he was so used to being the easygoing child, sometimes he forgot to stand up for himself.
Until Aaron gave him a reminder.
Even though Aaron wasn’t sitting with him at the dining table, Jay felt his presence and smiled.
Kink Talk
SubLily: I feel like I missed the memo when I was creating my username.
SubSequins: What do you mean?
SubLily: Everyone has these fun and punny usernames and I just put in my name. I didn't even realize that the Sub part was a permanent prefix.
SubSequins: Ah. Well, at least you have a pretty name.
DomPetty: Most of them don't make any sense. I don't even listen to Tom Petty, and I'm not a petty person, it was just the first thing to pop into my head.
DomAndDommer: Mine makes perfect sense.
SubAir: That was never in question, Dommer.
DomicronPersei8: I think the award for best username should definitely go to SubMarine. He's a sub and he's a Marine.
SubZero: If we're voting, I second.
SubMarine: The stars aligned so that I enlisted right out of high school, spent my twenties overseas instead of living life, lived the next few years in denial, finally accepted myself and joined this forum all so that I could have the perfect username.
DomAndDommer: Cool origin story, bro.
SubAir: I spent a good hour trying to think of a clever username before giving up.
SubSequins: So what does SubAir mean?
SubAir: It’s a play on my nickname.
DomAndDommer: Huh, I just assumed you really liked Con Air.
SubSequins: Maybe you just really like air, like how I really like shiny things?
SubMarine: I need to hear an explanation for Domicron's username, what is that?
SubAir: GASP Please put your libido on hold and spend the next week watching Futurama.
SubMarine: I've heard of that show. And there's not much to put on hold, so that's not a hardship
DomicronPersei8: Thanks for the assist, extraordinAIRe.
SubLily: That's it, I'm going to make a new account as soon as I come up with a clever name.
Chapter 7
AARON
Aaron rearranged the pillow behind him, smiling as he reread the banter in the chatroom. Despite being virtual strangers, they never failed to improve his mood.
And his mood needed improving.
Earlier, he’d read yet another BDSM etiquette article. It didn’t tell him anything new, and he wasn’t even sure why he kept clicking on them. Probably a compulsive need to make up for his lack of experience. Sadly, all the research in the world couldn’t erase the fact that he was pushing forty and a complete newbie to the lifestyle he’d coveted since he was a teenager. An embarrassingly late bloomer.
It hadn’t been an issue of self-awareness. He’d known he was a sub even before learning about BDSM. Since puberty, when his hormones had made him spend a little too much time thinking about sex, he’d craved the thrill of obedience. The quiet euphoria of kneeling. The explosive satisfaction of being used.
The mere idea of being at someone’s mercy sent shivers down his spine.
Meeting Mark in college and getting married three months after graduation had put a stop to realizing those fantasies. Sure, Aaron had brought up the idea of kink a few times during their marriage, and Mark tried. He really tried. But Mark had married the assertive and self-assured Aaron for a reason. The man just didn’t have it in him to take control.
It hadn’t really mattered to Aaron then, because they were happy in every other way. He learned to indulge his desires in solitude, honing the detailed and filthy scenarios in his mind as he clamped his nipples and impaled himself on the largest dildo in his collection.
It might’ve stayed that way forever if not for a series of random events, starting with some small talk at a conference and ending with a job offer seven hundred miles away. After a few difficult conversations about the move, Aaron and Mark came to the conclusion that they would always love each other, but their marriage was over. There was no passion left—just a deep platonic love.
The next time Aaron revisited his elaborate fantasies, it was with a sharp sense of possibility. He approached it as any other project—conducting extensive research, setting up milestones, and crafting a plan he was determined to follow.
Three months later, he’d made some progress. He defined his limits, joined Chain Reaction, and, most importantly, found Kink Talk, an offshoot chatroom from a BDSM forum. A place for the curious, the under-experienced, and those who questioned if they truly belonged in the lifestyle.
New people popped in and out of the chatroom all the time, but the core group had remained the same, and Aaron looked forward to reading the chats and feeling like he belonged.
Some of the members—like SubMarine, who constantly bemoaned the fact that no one wanted to dominate a hulking ex-Marine, or SubLime, who lived somewhere rural and never had the opportunity to explore the scene—were complete newbies like Aaron. On the other end of the spectrum were the experienced people like DomandDommer, who was surprisingly helpful and laid-back for a Dom, and DomicronPersei8, a sweet, nerdy mess of insecurities and eagerness to learn. They mostly offered advice based on their experience and occasionally shared their own struggles.
Not everyone was as forthcoming with their reasons for joining. SubZero, who always managed to lighten the mood with his offbeat sense of humor and unapologetic love of restraints, never asked any questions or shared anything personal. And all SubLily ever did was tell everyone what to think, making Aaron wonder if she didn’t have some secret Dom tendencies.
Even though he was curious to know more about each of them, Aaron didn’t pry. Everyone was on their own journey. All he knew was that he loved and appreciated their virtual company.
Did they feel the same way about Aaron? He never had much to add to the conversations, but he was open and honest about his progress. One day—hopefully soon—he’d have something to share.
As he scrolled through the chat, a message from Mark popped up on the screen.
MARK: Are you ready for visitors yet?
A defeated sigh escaped Aaron’s lips. Mark’s girlfriend, Rachel, mentioned wanting to visit Chicago over dinner when he visited, but Aaron had foolishly assumed she meant sometime in the distant future. Apparently, he’d been wrong.
He looked around his bedroom, eyeing the heavy mahogany bed frame and a matching nightstand surrounded by half-unpacked boxes stacked against the walls. The rest of the apartment was in even worse shape. He hung his head in resignation and typed out a response.
AARON: I’m really not. Give me a few weeks to buy some furniture and unpack?
MARK: It’s been three and a half months! How are you not unpacked yet?
AARON: I’ve been busy! I told you, the new job is an all-consuming beast.
There was a pause, just long enough for Aaron to think that Mark had given up, before his phone chirped again.
MARK: Rachel can take some time off next month. Is that enough time?
AARON: Sure. I will toil day and night to make sure you have every amenity. God forbid you have to set foot in a hotel.
MARK: What’s the point of spending sixteen years married to someone if you can’t take advantage of them for the rest of your life?
Aaron grinned at Mark’s snarky response. He’d seen other couples go through divorce—it was never effortless and rarely friendly. He got lucky with Mark, both for the quiet happiness of their relationship and its gentle dissolution. Mark’s next message reinforced that feeling.
MARK: We don’t need much. A bed, maybe some chairs if you’re feeling generous. We can go shopping with you to figure out the rest.
AARON: I doubt Rachel wants to take time off to buy furniture instead of, I don’t know, going to a museum.
MARK: You’d be surprised. She’s amazing.
MARK: Anyway, I’ll send you our itinerary. Better crack open those boxes. Tick tock, tick tock.
Aaron sent a middle-finger emoji in return and shook his head. He knew that Mark’s offer of help was genuine, but it wasn’t Mark’s job to help Aaron run his errands. Not anymore.
He opened a new browser tab and searched for nearby furniture stores.
Chapter 8
AARON
Friday morning found Aaron in a great mood. He’d unpacked most of the kitchen boxes the previous evening and found several furniture stores to visit over the weekend. Best of all—it was almost Friday night.
Almost time to visit Chain Reaction and see Jay.
He wasn’t under any illusions that their tentative friendship would lead to anything. Jay was young, handsome, experienced—a contrast to Aaron in every way. And yet, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he got ready for work, giddy with the anticipation of another night in Jay’s presence.
He put on his favorite suit, a slim-fit dark blue number. The slacks fit him like a second skin, their soft fabric cupping his ass and emphasizing the gentle curves. The lining felt like silk, cool and smooth, sliding along with no friction. The jacket, slipped over a dusty-pink button-up shirt, clung to his shoulders and tapered at the waist. His favorite indigo tie completed the look.
He eyed himself with appreciation in the mirror before heading out to work. The traffic was cooperative, leaving Aaron with plenty of time to stop by a nearby coffee shop for a large dose of caffeine.
He was deep in thought as he entered, running through the talking points of his morning meeting, when he heard his name. Looking around, he spotted Jay waving at him from the corner table, an open laptop and a bottle of water in front of him. It made no sense for him to be working in a coffee shop just down the street from his office, but Aaron was too excited to question it.
He moved toward Jay, his gaze lingering on the handsome man, drinking in the details of his body. He certainly had a consistent sense of style, wearing yet another dark tee and black jeans. Aaron couldn’t complain—the outfit suited him perfectly. There was nothing to distract from Jay’s broad shoulders and powerful chest, the outline of his muscles obvious under the taut fabric. Aaron wanted to let his hands roam free, tracing each peak and valley with his fingertips. And his tongue.
Even better if Jay ordered him to do it. If he slowly stripped away the thin fabric and ordered Aaron to worship his body the way it deserved.
Blood rushed to Aaron’s face when he stopped in front of Jay, and he shook away the inappropriate thoughts. He could only hope that Jay didn’t realize the true reason behind his blush.
“Jay! Fancy meeting you here. Did you get kicked out of your office for poor behavior?”
“Funny. They would probably faint if they saw me in the office this early in the morning.”
Aaron checked his watch. “It’s already past seven.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Jay scrunched up his face. “I try to waltz in sometime around nine.”
“So everyone assumes you sleep in, but in reality, you’re being a productive member of society just down the block?” Aaron asked.
“No, I usually do sleep in. I’m here to catch you before your meetings.”
Aaron couldn’t stop his lips from spreading in a satisfied smile.
“Since you performed that very sneaky lunch-and-run, I had to get you back,” Jay continued. “So I’m here to get you a coffee and wish you luck in your meetings.”
“That’s really sweet,” Aaron said. “Let me go check the menu for the most expensive drink, and I’ll get back to you.”
Jay chuckled and followed Aaron to the counter, weaving around the empty tables. The shop was quiet, the hum of the espresso machine and the faint sounds of the street filling the space. Before long, Aaron was in front of the register, drawing a blank on what his regular coffee order was. Jay’s admission that he’d gotten up early and staked out the coffee shop waiting for Aaron had scrambled his brains. It was a lovely gesture, but was it simply a repayment for lunch or something more?
Concentrating as hard as he could, Aaron managed to read a familiar word off the menu, “Uhhh, mocha?”
The barista drummed his fingers on the register and prompted Aaron with patience honed over a lifetime spent in the service industry. “Size? Hot or iced? Regular milk?”
Aaron stumbled through his order and stepped aside for Jay to swipe his credit card.
“Do you have to run right away, or do you have a few minutes?” Jay asked after they moved to the pickup area.
Aaron checked his watch. “I have some time.”
Once Aaron’s coffee was ready, Jay grabbed it and walked back to his table. After putting away his laptop, he pushed half of a blueberry muffin toward Aaron.
“How have you been?” Aaron asked. He needed an open-ended question that Jay could take a few moments answering while Aaron attacked the muffin.
“Good. Winding down a project at work.” Jay’s eyes trailed Aaron’s fingers as he broke off a piece of the pastry and lifted it to his lips. Aaron didn’t think the act of eating a muffin could be particularly attractive, but he tried to be graceful about it. He licked a piece of blueberry off his thumb, and Jay stilled, his words trailing off. Aaron made a low hum of satisfaction at the sugary treat as well as Jay’s reaction.
Devouring baked goods could be sexy. Good to know.
Jay looked away with a shy smile. “What have you been doing?”
“Unpacking and looking up furniture stores. My ex-husband is visiting with his girlfriend in a few weeks, and I need to make my apartment suitable for visitors.”
“Oh.” Jay shifted in his seat. “That’s…”
Right. The topic of his divorce made Jay uncomfortable for some reason. Aaron searched for something to say to break the tension, but Jay’s next words did the trick. “Do you need a fake boyfriend to rub in his face? I know a guy who’s done some underwear modeling. He’d make great arm candy.”
A bark of laughter escaped Aaron’s lips at the unexpected offer, a mix of amusement and relief.
“I guess that’s a no?” Jay smirked.
“Alright.” Aaron straightened his spine and took a deep breath. “I know people are weird about divorce, and it’s usually a tragic event.”
Jay watched him closely, his dark, intense stare distracting Aaron from his train of thought. Something about Jay’s eyes looked different…
“Are your eyes purple?”
“Color contacts,” Jay said, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s casual Friday. Please, go on.”
Unsettling at first, the purple grew on Aaron. He’d tried fun contacts in the past, but both the bright blue and the dark brown had startled him every time he looked in the mirror, so he went back to his usual dailies. Maybe he should have tried a different color. The rich amethyst Jay chose for himself was fitting, a shade so similar to his own that it was only noticeable with close eye contact.
“It gives you a subtle alien vibe. I love it.” Aaron forced himself to focus, trying to remember what he was saying. “Anyway, it’s not like that with Mark. We’ve been best friends for close to two decades, married for sixteen years, and we will always be best friends. The divorce wasn’t because of cheating, or some big emotional betrayal, or anything like that. One day, we had a conversation about our futures and realized that they no longer matched up. So we signed the papers, I moved to Chicago, we sold the house, he met the woman of his dreams, and now we’re living our best lives. Ta-da!” Aaron swept his hands wide with a flourish and took a long sip of coffee.
