Initiative

  Once they were back in Grant’s car and heading home, Grant glanced over at Darryl. The man stared out the passenger window, a pensive look on his face.

  Grant knew that look all too well. “Please, stop worrying about this weekend.”

  “It’s not fair that you had to pay for everything.”

  “It’s what people do when they’re in a relationship.”

  “I feel like I’m not contributing my fair share.”

  At the next light, Grant reached over and cupped the back of Darryl’s neck again. “If I was worried about it, don’t you think I’d say something? I’m not. So stop it. I make more money than you. The house is nearly paid off. If this was a burden on me, I would have used my big-boy words and said so. I love you, and I’m taking care of you because I love you and I want to take care of you. End of subject.”

  The light turned green and he put both hands on the wheel again.

  This wasn’t their first go-round on the subject. If it hadn’t been for Grant paying for the hotel room and for both their tickets, and outright ordering Darryl to take the time off to go, he knew it wouldn’t have happened.

  Dammit, he wanted to go. He’d missed the ten-year reunion, and probably a good thing he did. He was at a point in his life now where even if Darryl had to be super-careful because of his job, and he had to be moderately careful because of his, at least Grant felt good about going. He had nothing to be ashamed of, and neither did Darryl.

  They were happy and had a decent life, which was more than a lot of people could say. They had their health, they had friends.

  And they had a hot as fuck sex life when Kyle wasn’t staying over and the men had to sleep in separate bedrooms to keep up the charade of being nothing more than “just roommates.”

  * * * *

  Darryl stared out the window as Grant drove them home. Hell, even something as innocuous as playing Dungeons and Dragons wasn’t something he could admit to his coworkers.

  Grant, who managed the IT department at a research lab, wasn’t much better off. Because of his security clearance, he also had a morality clause in his employment contract. They wouldn’t ding him for D and D, and probably wouldn’t fire him for them being more than just roommates, but they might bounce him for their BDSM activities should that ever be made public. He made good money, but they had to protect their privacy.

  At the time, when Chelsey slapped Darryl with the divorce, he’d been a stay-at-home dad teaching piano lessons and raising their son. She’d wanted to work, so it had seemed the perfect answer. He’d been trying to get signed on as a county school teacher, but drastic budget cuts had pretty much skewered his plans there. He sometimes played paying gigs with friends of his, but that never paid much, was more for fun than profit.

  A music degree didn’t do him much good when he could barely make a living wage from it.

  Had he known moving in with his old friend would lead to far more than being just friends…he would have found some other way to make a living before now. The stress alone of hiding just this part of himself from his job, much less their BDSM roles, took a huge toll on him, having to weigh everything he said.

  At least the people at work knew he and Grant had been friends ever since high school, so being roommates now didn’t appear odd.

  But he hated having to pretend Grant wasn’t the love of his life, and his Master.

  It bit into his soul, ate away at him. Unfortunately, unless he moved to another job elsewhere, there wasn’t a better option at this time. Maybe once Kyle turned eighteen and he no longer had to pay child support to Chelsey, then he could think about something else, or go back to teaching privately. For now, most of his pay went toward child support, and to his health and car insurance premiums. If it wasn’t for Grant, he wouldn’t have a place to live that he could afford with the little left over every month.

  Chelsey worked for a medical equipment company, handling sales in-office. She made far better money than Darryl did, and she’d gotten the house in the divorce, as well as primary custody. The only reason he could afford an attorney in the first place was because Ed was a friend of Grant’s. Chelsey would have completely walked all over Darryl in the divorce if it hadn’t been for Ed.

  Now she had her boyfriend living with her, but wasn’t going to marry him. If she got married, the alimony Darryl still had to pay her for another year dried up totally and the child support would be cut in half.

  Darryl bitterly thought about the two years before she’d filed for divorce that she’d been cheating on him. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, but it hadn’t been a shocker when she admitted it when she filed for the divorce and ordered him out of the house.

  “You’re doing it again,” Grant gently said.

  “Huh?” He looked over at him.

  “Get out of your brain.”

  Darryl laid his head back against the seat. “How do you do that?”

  “I love you. Not to mention, I can read you like an open book, buddy. When are you going to accept at face value that I love you and my job is to take care of you? I don’t give a shit what you earn. It’s not like you’re mooching off me or anything.”

  “I feel like it.”

  “Stop.” Grant had pulled Dom tone, as Darryl thought of it. “Do you honestly think I’d be putting up with a moocher? No, I wouldn’t.”

  Grant turned into their subdivision. They lived in an older area, north of Clark Road in southern Sarasota, the houses all more than twenty-five years old. They also had gorgeous trees that provided a lot of shade. It was a beautiful place. Nothing ritzy, just average middle-class homes. They even had a pool, which Kyle loved playing in when he came to visit.

  But it wasn’t “his” home, no matter what Grant said. There would always be an invisible wall, at least in his own mind. Hell, he couldn’t even marry Grant now that the gay marriage ban had fallen in Florida and elsewhere because if he did, he knew it would mean risking his job, as well as risking a nasty renewed custody battle with Chelsey.

  At least he felt some peace with Grant. It might not be “his” home, but he did feel “at” home there. Alone behind their securely locked door, he could be the real him. He could shut off his brain and let Grant take full control and just be.

  I should be thankful for what I have instead of pissing and moaning about what I don’t have.

  When they arrived and walked inside, Darryl set his stuff down and immediately dropped to his knees in front of Grant. They hadn’t had time for their usual greeting ritual when Grant arrived home earlier because he’d been running late. They’d had to immediately turn around and head out to gaming.

  Grant stroked Darryl’s hair. “Such a good boy,” Grant softly said. “My good boy. I wish I could order you to believe it when I say that I’m happy with you. The only thing that would make me happier would be marrying you, but I know you won’t let me do that yet.”

  Not for lack of asking on Grant’s part. Yes, Darryl wanted to marry him. But not until Kyle was eighteen and Chelsey no longer held any sway over him.

  Darryl nuzzled his head against Grant’s legs. “Sorry, Sir.”

  “That wasn’t meant to incite an apology. I get it.” He tapped Darryl on the head, indicating for him to stand. He pulled Darryl in for a hug. “I’m a very patient man. You already know that about me.”

  Darryl rested his head against Grant’s chest. Even though at six feet Darryl was an inch taller than Grant, it still felt right, like this was the only place in the world he belonged.

  “Yes, Sir. Thank You, Sir.”

  It was the only place in the world he wanted to be.

  Later, once they were snuggled in bed together, with Grant’s arm slung over Darryl’s waist, Grant said, “I want you to promise me you’ll try to have fun this weekend.”

  “I’ll try.” He thought for a moment. “Do you think Susie will be there?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her on the reunion site.”

  “I really m
iss her. She was so much fun to hang out with back then. Remember the fun we used to have together, the three of us?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve never seen her on Facebook.”

  Grant let out a sigh. “Neither have I.”

  They’d always been the Three Musketeers in high school, sharing a couple of classes and spending every spare moment together. Then college hit and they went their separate ways. Even though he and Grant remained close, they’d lost contact with her.

  “She’s probably married with kids now,” Darryl mused.

  “Probably.”

  “Do you count mentally engaging in sexual fantasies as ‘fun’ this weekend?”

  Grant let out a cute snort that always amused Darryl. “Man, I really spoiled you rotten with that, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah.” He hugged Grant’s arm more tightly around him. “But in the good ways.”

  Chapter Three

  For once, Susan left work early on a Friday afternoon, at a little after four.

  Okay, early for her.

  She’d purchased the full three-day reunion pass. Meaning an informal pool-side cocktail party Friday night, the “formal” dinner and party Saturday night, and a brunch Sunday morning at eleven.

  If she was going to get drunk, it’d be tonight, at the Friday night pool-side party where she expected many of her fellow classmates to get totally skunkfaced.

  After the week she’d had, she desperately needed to get out of her head for a little while. Jack had stayed out of her way the last few days, shooting her dark glares when he thought she wasn’t looking, all the while bitching to anyone he thought might be on his side about his “new” car.

  Every last gripe of which got reported back to her by delighted employees who were only too glad to see Jack get his comeuppance.

  Why did I wait this long to do this to him?

  Oh, yeah. I couldn’t deal with it before.

  In the wake of John’s death, it’d been all she could do to force herself to get out of bed every morning. And even then, for the first several months, that only happened with a heavy assist from her new bestie, Xanax.

  She’d eventually weaned down, and then off of the medication, only needing it on the occasions when she couldn’t sleep or burrowed too deeply into her head and wallowed inside her emotional pain.

  Strength had slowly returned to her. Not just the emotional kind, but the physical. She could deal with Jack’s bullshit better now that she had the dealership running stronger than ever. She wouldn’t let him and his petty antics undo her hard work.

  Now that she’d found the strength to hold off her ex-in-laws as well, she knew she could deal with Jackass.

  After her shower she packed an overnight bag for the weekend. She knew she wouldn’t need much. Her laptop, iPad, phone, and chargers. Minimal makeup, because John had liked it when she used as little as possible, preferring a more natural look. A one-piece bathing suit and a sarong to wrap around her hips. A simple black dress and flats for Saturday night, and something for Sunday morning. A spare change of clothes—jeans and a tank top.

  She still had plenty of room to spare. Into that bag would also go her leather cuffs and collar, once she took them off. This weekend, she’d need her bracelet, made out of niobium rod and which locked around her wrist with a special hex key. It’d been her “day collar” while not at work. At work, she had a necklace with a heart-shaped pendant on it that she still wore every day.

  And her wedding rings, which she still wore on her left hand. She wore John’s wedding band on her right thumb, resized to fit her.

  She put the bracelet on her right wrist. The bracelet gave her comfort, its solid weight reminding her of her husband’s love, the memory of the day he given it to her still fresh in her mind, when he’d locked it around her right wrist with a playful smile.

  As she cupped her left hand around it, feeling its cool heft warming to her flesh, she fought back the prickle of tears.

  Yes, she knew there were others who were into BDSM the way they’d been, but with what they did for a living, as visible as they were in the local community, she’d been more than reluctant to join any groups or go to the local BDSM club in Sarasota. John had relented on that point, not wanting to stress her out about it even though he’d wanted to meet and socialize with other kinky people. At first, she’d thought it was just something only they did, that she was weird for enjoying submitting to her husband in private.

  In public, no one knew she was his slave. That was for them alone.

  Recent books and movies had moved BDSM into the spotlight to the point that, when he’d died, she’d almost been ready to let him take her to a local munch.

  Now…

  The thought of finding someone else, despite people’s well-meaning platitudes that one day she’d meet someone special, nearly turned her stomach.

  There was no one else. No one else she’d wanted. They’d been married sixteen years when John died. The thought of trying to replace him as her husband, much less as her Master, broke her heart all over again despite the fact that Ed had told her up front John had left another letter for him to give someone if she ever decided to get remarried.

  After gathering a few more things, and laying out the outfit she’d wear tonight, she set everything by the front door, ready to go. Then she took off her cuffs and collar and placed them in the bag and zipped it up before donning her clothes. She walked over to the living room and knelt, conscious of the bracelet on her right hand.

  “I’ll be back on Sunday, Sir,” she softly said. “I love you and miss you.” She closed her eyes for a moment, her mind always drifting back to the last time they’d said good-bye.

  At least she had the comfort of remembering that every time they parted ways, they always exchanged I love yous.

  And his very last words to her, ever, had been, “I love you. You’re my good girl.”

  Once she felt steady enough she rose and headed to the front door, gathering her purse, keys, and bags. After setting the alarm, she headed out.

  She was determined to survive this weekend, to prove to herself she could engage in a reasonable facsimile of a life.

  That she could successfully pull off the ultimate hoax that she was a fully functional human being.

  * * * *

  Susan had never been to this particular resort on Siesta Key before, but she had an oceanside room that looked out onto the Gulf of Mexico. She’d sprung for an upgrade outside of the block of rooms discounted for the reunion attendees. She usually didn’t engage in splurges, even though she could afford them, but for this weekend she’d make an exception. The large king suite had a separate living room and a kitchenette, not that she’d be using those.

  But this floor would likely be quieter than the ones lower down, where many of the attendees were staying.

  After settling in, she headed downstairs to find the reunion check-in area, just to realize she was still nearly an hour early.

  Crap.

  Since the poolside cocktail party wouldn’t have anything other than appetizers, she decided to head to the hotel’s restaurant. On her way there, someone called her name.

  “Susie? Susie Carson?”

  She turned to spot a smiling man heading her way, a woman trailing in his wake.

  She had to think for a moment, to try to picture him without the beard and mustache and about thirty pounds lighter. “Corey McElroy?”

  His grin widened and, for the first time in a long time, she was genuinely happy to see someone. He picked her up in a huge hug, both of them laughing as he set her back down again.

  “Holy crap, look at you!” he said. “Susie, this is my wife, Marcy.”

  The women shook hands. “Nice to meet you,” Susan said. “Susan Costello.”

  “Oh, heh, sorry,” Corey said. “Should have known you’re married. Oh, duh, you’re wearing a ring. Is he here?”

  Susan hoped her smile didn’t slip. She knew she’d have to get use
d to this over the weekend. “Um, no. He died two years ago.”

  Corey froze. “Oh, shit, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”

  His wife elbowed him. “Nice job, brainiac. I’m going to start calling you ‘barbarian,’ too, the way Eliza does Rusty.”

  “It’s okay,” Susan assured him. “You had no way of knowing. It’s fine.” She immediately changed the subject. “How is Rusty? So he and Eliza got married, huh?”

  Corey dove for the easy out like a quarterback making a last-ditch conversion play through heavy coverage. “Yeah, wow, all this time. Not long after I graduated high school. They have a daughter, too. Kailey. Man, is she a pistol. She’s in college now.”

  Susan pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. “We can’t check in yet for the reunion. They’re not set up. I was going to get some dinner before the pool party tonight. Want to join me?”

  “Sure,” Marcy said, warmly smiling. “It’s nice to finally get to meet you. I’ve heard some of the old war stories about you guys in high school…”

  And they spent over an hour doing just that, eating and talking and catching up. Corey and Marcy lived outside of Atlanta, where he worked in IT for a cable news company there, and Marcy worked at a bank. Marcy had been born and raised in the Atlanta area. Their two young sons were spending the weekend with Marcy’s parents.

  “Rusty told me Grant and Darryl are coming this weekend,” Corey said. “It’ll be like old times.”

  Wistful thoughts flowed through Susan, along with more than a little relief. “It’ll be nice seeing them. Are their wives coming, too?”

  Corey winced. “No, Darryl’s divorced. Nasty one, from what Rusty said. And he and Grant are an item now.” He leaned in and dropped his voice. “Doesn’t bother me, don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for them. Rusty said they have to keep it on the down-low because of their jobs and because of Darryl’s custody battle.”

  “Oh. Okay. Gotcha.” Susan honestly didn’t know how to respond to that. It seemed like half her high school fantasies were unrequited daydreams about the two guys.