11. Arlene

ELEVEN

Arlene

“ Y ou sure about this, babe?”

I huffed. “For the millionth time, yes, Dylan, I’m sure.”

I hated sounding exasperated with him or upset in any way. Truthfully, I knew what he was doing and why he was saying it. But, damn, I was excited about this. I was also the most anxious I’d been in years while checking out my reflection in the mirror, but that was irrelevant.

Was it so hard to get some encouragement around here?

“And you don’t want me to come with?

I chewed on my lip. “Maybe another day?”

If I didn’t completely implode and embarrass myself so much that they banned me for life. Was that a thing? I frowned. I didn’t know.

There were so many things I didn’t know. One thing I did know, though, was that I wanted to have this first experience with Claude.

It wasn’t because they were Claude— of Spades —for most queer people who grew up chronically online. They were just… I didn’t know it was possible to feel the way I felt around them. Sure, I knew a big part of it was hormones, and the thing to expect from a new relationship—one that didn’t even have an official start date, to boot, if it had even started.

Even then, though, I wanted to cherish the feeling, and explore it, then treasure it.

I’d have more than enough time to hang out with Dylan wherever he wanted.

Hell, I’d mention it to Claude, and I could introduce the two of them. I wasn’t completely sure how they’d work together, though. Then again… Claude had been—still was, from the sound of it—best friends with Ben.

Dylan was a walk in the park in comparison.

“Fine,” he groaned. It was good that we had a system—in which I gave him a look and he behaved nicer. I could not deal with his usual sass on a twenty-four-seven basis. “At least text me if anything good happens.”

“Define anything good.” I raised my hand before he could take me up on it. “Actually, please don’t.”

There was a reason why he and I didn’t discuss kinky matters at length. I felt like a baby taking her first steps when we did.

It was different with Claude. Yes, I was still anxious, and jittery, and not really processing the fact that they were interested in me. But I didn’t really have time to think. Or, rather, I had many thoughts, but I didn’t have the room for thoughts about how inexperienced I was.

I liked it that way. Claude hadn’t complained, either. After we spent most of Saturday making out and watching people baking atrocities on TV, we’d been texting every day. Nothing too scandalous, but those texts were more than enough to calm me down.

They really wanted to see where this led. It hadn’t been some fluke or a vivid hallucination because I’d put more hours than usual in the office.

I wanted to see where it led, too. The other night… I still had no words to describe exactly what had happened. It made me feel like an absolute newbie who’d just discovered how mind-blowing sex could be, but… That didn’t change the facts.

“Need help with that?”

Oh. Yeah, I did. I’d forgotten that the reason Dylan was in my room—not that he needed much incentive on any given day—was because of the corset I’d found at the back of my wardrobe.

I’d bought it years ago—everyone went through phases—but it had been relegated to the back of my wardrobe when I realized I did not have the dexterity to actually put it on.

It really fit the vibe of a kink club, though. My plan was to pair it with a soft dress that reminded me of a babydoll set and that I didn’t remember buying, either. I really had gone through a few phases while trying to figure out my own style.

Claude said the club we were going to was more relaxed around dress codes, but I didn’t want to draw too much attention to myself by wearing something too basic. Besides, I kind of wanted to impress them, too. They had this idea that I was sweet and shy, and…

Well, yeah, I was that, but I had layers, too. Or rather, I could have layers. Claude didn’t have to be holding my hand forever and ever—even though the idea of holding hands made me giddy enough that I would not discourage them.

For now.

The handholding I was talking about here was not the physical one, anyway.

“Uh, right, yeah.” I blinked when I realized Dylan had been standing there, waiting for an answer. Well, he hadn’t been waiting for long, or I would’ve heard something about it. It still made me shift on my feet. “I keep getting in my head.”

“Oh, really.” Dylan snorted. Thankfully, he stopped teasing and got to work on the corset laces. I’d tried to watch tutorials, but I really could not comprehend how some people did it on their own. “You’re fine, babe. I mean, you’re probably gonna crash so badly after all the sub-frenzy is done, but I’ve got you.”

“That’s…” I grimaced, his words leaving a sour aftertaste in my mouth. “Not as encouraging as you seem to think it is.”

“I think I’m plenty encouraging.”

In other words, he had to be fighting with his boyfriend again. He always got way more cynical and snappier when that happened.

It left me conflicted. On the one hand, I wanted to dig in there. On the other hand… There was no way I could focus on that drama today. It was selfish—I hated that it was—but it wouldn’t be fair to him if I tried to fake it, either.

“Text me if you need anything, yeah?”

“Sure I will.” He rolled his eyes.

Rolling his eyes in response to literally every little thing he was told was another sign that trouble was brewing. Maybe I could talk him into going out this weekend.

The tavern he liked had a promo going on. I’d gotten an ad for it yesterday, but I’d forgotten to mention it to him.

It was for the best. If I had, he’d probably be planning going there with the boyfriend, and that… never ended well.

“I mean it, though.” It was important that I said it—for my own sanity if anything else. “Claude will understand, too. They’re a good friend.”

“And you know that because?”

“Because…” I blanked. “Because.”

I fixated on those things. It was in the way Claude talked about Ben without a camera on their face, in the way they bantered with the staff at Randy’s, and how they always stopped to say hi when they recognized someone.

I noticed that stuff. Claude would groan out loud and force a change in subject if I shared the observations with them, but that was beside the point. They thought they gave off this aloof vibe or something, but they didn’t.

It was the opposite, really. They were a total mama bear. I saw how indignant they got when we were hanging out and Ben sent them a text to a new article about him and Julian that wasn’t entirely flattering. They cared a lot.

I might not know every single thing about them, and this was all so new that I hadn’t wrapped my head around it yet, but I knew some things.

I knew Claude was the kind of person people should want to have around. It was more than enough for me.

“So…” I sighed. “How do I look?”

I supposed I liked how I looked in the mirror, but… This would still be my first time in a kink club. What if I thought my outfit matched the vibe, but it actually didn’t?

“I didn’t even know you had biker boots.”

“Of course I do.” I pouted. “Just because I’m in my cottagecore era lately doesn’t mean I?—”

“Okay, okay, I got it.” Dylan raised his hands in the air.

We were definitely going to talk about his boyfriend after I survived tonight.

Dylan sighed, his face eventually falling before he ran a hand through his hair. I was pretty sure he’d just woken up when I asked if he could help me.

His schedules were something else.

“You do look good,” he admitted, “and your Claude is gonna love it. I’m just messed up.”

“Yeah.” I was just thinking it, so there was no point in trying to play nice and deny the obvious. “Let’s do something this weekend?”

Some of his usual humor returned to his eyes. “You won’t have plans?”

“I mean, probably?” Considering all the memes about sapphic dates, and the fact that this was our third in less than two weeks, yeah, it was a safe assumption. “But I can make time.”

“All right. If you say so, I mean. Text me or whatever.”

I was the one rolling her eyes as he walked out of my room. It was a good thing I could not afford to live alone, and that he was a pretty great roommate. I’d definitely lucked out there.

It didn’t mean that he didn’t have his moments, and I was now worrying about him instead of the night ahead.

I grabbed my phone from where I’d dropped it on the bed.

Arlene

Did you have any plans this weekend?

Claude

Hello to you too

Here I was, thinking you’d be anxious about tonight

Arlene

Very funny

I am anxious, but it’s a whole thing with my roommate

I wanna hang out with him, but I wanna see you too

Claude

You can always introduce us

Or, you know, we behave and spend one day without seeing each other

I’m sure some people call that healthy

Arlene

I’m not some people

Claude

Neither I am, but that’s beside the point

Anyway, how are you feeling about the club tonight? I managed to leave work earlier today so I should be there on time

Arlene

That’s good! Yeah, I’m ready

I don’t know how I’m feeling, but I wanna go, and I wanna see you?

Does that count?

Claude

It does

We’re still meeting there, right?

Arlene

Yeah

We’d discussed taking the subway together, but it hadn’t made any sense logistically. Did it make me more nervous to show up to a kink club alone, even if I wasn’t going to walk inside?

Yes, but… I was going to be an adult about it. Besides, it would be good for me, like a little test. It was how I’d started thinking about it.

It was all good.

I should’ve baked something, though. That would’ve given me something to do with my hands—while waiting, too—and it would’ve distracted Claude from my ramped-up anxiety.

Then again, it probably wouldn’t have changed a lot. Claude seemed like the kind of person who saw through that. Well, they’d be really happy about the sweets—they reminded me of a gremlin when there was food in front of them—but they’d call me out for it.

I didn’t want to be called out for my dysfunctional coping mechanisms just yet.

They weren’t even that dysfunctional.

I could be taking drugs, or I could be some unhinged adrenaline junkie. Instead, I just baked an inordinate amount of sugary food.

“ H i!”

I should’ve definitely baked something. It really would’ve gotten rid of some excess nervous energy.

“Hi.” Was it me, or was Claude’s voice sultrier than usual? “Ready?”

I gulped down. No, no I was not ready. Claude looked…

I thought they’d said they’d only wear a harness over some basic clothes. There had been nothing there about leather pants, or the dark makeup that was framing their eyes so well, or…

I should’ve put on some makeup. I just was not the best at it, and I ended up smudging it all over the place, so I thought it would be safer if I only put on some chapstick.

I was now questioning that choice.

Really questioning it.

“What is it?” Claude tilted their head to the side. “You should see your face right now.”

I took in a deep breath. I tried to, at least. I knew they didn’t mean anything negative by it, but… Yeah, I was definitely overwhelmed.

“Sorry.” I winced. I didn’t mean to apologize exactly, but the word just slipped out. “I swear I was keeping it together.”

Claude watched me for a minute. At least, it felt like a minute—a long, agonizing one. “I believe you. And if you want to grab an Uber back to my place, we can do that.”

“No,” I nearly stammered the word. Damn. “I can do it.”

I wanted to do it, and there was no way I’d survive the mortification of leaving without even stepping a foot inside.

“Okay.” Their fingers wrapped around my wrist. The innocent touch gave me goosebumps. Claude noticed, but it didn’t stop them. “Squeeze my hand twice, and we’re out, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Maybe it was silly, but having that? Without me being the one who’d asked for a signal? It felt like I was taking my first real breath since I’d started pacing around the nondescript industrial building.

“Let’s go, then?”

Claude didn’t let go of my wrist. I didn’t tell them to, either. I just closed my eyes for a second and tried grounding myself. This was fine. It was just another new experience. Even if I hated it, it wouldn’t have any major consequences.

Tonight was just about going to a new place. A little adventure of a spicier nature, but an adventure nonetheless.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

“Good.” Claude walked just one step ahead of me, but they kept an eye on me. “You look great, by the way.”

“I do?”

Claude nodded, licking their lips. “Very. I wanna tease you so much, but you’re probably not okay with public exposure yet.”

I paused. “Yet?”

They just winked at me.

I squirmed.

I shouldn’t find that hot, should I? And yet… I was not going to be able to think of anything else all night now.

Great.

Damn.

That was probably Claude’s intention all along. I guessed what they said about Domms knowing better was true.

Well. I wrinkled my nose. Maybe only partially true. Some-of-the-time true. I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of someone thinking they knew better just because. No one—Domm or otherwise—should have that kind of ego.

Right?

Anyway, I digressed, and Claude had opened the heavy doors to the club while I was questioning all those things.

I thought there would be more fanfare. In my head, someone greeted us at the door, asked for our referral, and tested us or something. There was someone behind a desk of sorts, but they just greeted Claude after recognizing them, complimented my corset, and asked if we wanted to use the coat rack.

Very underwhelming, to be honest.

The club itself came next. There was metal music playing in the background, soft enough to not be overwhelming, but loud enough to feel the beat of the drums.

Claude had explained the club had two floors, but the second floor was mostly private rooms. I’d agreed to stick to the first floor.

As my eyes zeroed in on the narrow stairs to the side, though, I wondered if it was too late to change my mind.

Or if Claude would be in the mood for it. They didn’t make me think they were when they were describing the club, and I didn’t want to assume. It was too soon, I kept repeating to myself as a mantra. It was better if Claude set the pace. Safer, at least.

I liked safer things.

Curiosity picked at me, regardless.

“Did you want something to drink?” Claude’s lips brushed against my ear.

The wicked grin on their face told me they’d done it on purpose. I wanted to scowl—I tried—but I knew it was a lost battle. I’d never been great at pretending to be irritated, or at dry humor, or any of the things most people around me were.

Maybe that was why they were drawn to me. It was a weird thing to contemplate, though, so I brushed it off.

“Yeah, sure.” I hadn’t had time yet to spot the bar tucked in the corner. A few people were milling around, but it wasn’t crowded. “I didn’t know there would be a bar.”

“And have people dehydrated?” Claude teased. “No Daddy would allow that.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

It really did, and I had no idea why I’d thought the opposite. I’d feel silly if Claude wasn’t walking there already as if there was nothing strange about my words.

“There’s no alcohol, but they make great mocktails if you’re into that.”

I didn’t have to ask to know Claude would be into that. They really had a serious sugar addiction, not that I was going to complain. Their sugar addiction was the reason we’d started this—and why I was here tonight with them.

“Good to know.”

Claude ended up ordering for me when they flagged the server behind the bar.

He was a bald man wearing what I could only describe as stripper heels and a shiny corset. Rubber, perhaps? I didn’t know there were rubber corsets. It looked good on him, regardless of the material. I just always thought that rubber suits had to be incredibly uncomfortable. It was probably a me thing, though. Plenty of people were into rubber—I’d done a lot of research in preparation for tonight. Sure, I supposed some people could be into it because it was uncomfortable, but that couldn’t account for everyone.

Right?

“You’re deep in your head,” Claude observed.

I blushed. “Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” They made a tsking sound with their tongue. “I just want to make sure that you’re having a good time.”

“Yeah, no, of course.”

My eyes wandered around the room once more. I’d had this idea that, when we arrived, we’d be welcomed by screams of pain, with floggers and whips cutting through the air. Of course, there was nothing like that. Apart from a couple of subs on their knees while their Doms talked, nothing else was really happening. The room had a four-poster bed with a cage underneath that made me shiver for reasons I’d dissect once I was back in the safety of my own room. The other toys I was more indifferent toward. There were a couple Saint Andrew Crosses, a spanking bench, and a pillory.

I supposed I could be into that one, too, if it wasn’t used for pain. It could be used for sensation stuff, too, right?

Clearly, I hadn’t researched enough.

“You were right about this place being more chill,” I hummed.

“That’s why I like it.” Claude took a sip of their syrupy drink before continuing. “I can take you to the club Cin and their partner go to sometime if you want, but I like the no pressure vibe here.”

“No, I like it too.” I swallowed.

It was different than what I was expecting, yeah, but different was not bad. If I’d walked in to a different thing, I probably would’ve shut down right away.

“So what do you wanna do?” Claude tilted their head to the side. “I recognize a couple faces here. I wanted to say hi, but after that, I’m all yours.”

I took a deep, fortifying breath before I let the ambiance swallow me in. “Isn’t it the other way around?”

Claude’s gaze sharpened immediately. They moved quickly, standing between my legs, their hand above my knee. I shivered as they nudged my inner thigh.

“It goes both ways.”

I shivered once more—or maybe I hadn’t stopped shivering. “Right.”

“Good.” Claude smiled as if they were satisfied with the answer, but there was something about the glint in their eyes. That something said I should not lower my guard so quickly. “Now come with me. I’ll introduce you.”

“Anything I should know?”

Claude had said over and over that this club was more chill than others, and that people came here to mill around more than anything else. Still, my research said that lots of these clubs were big on protocol things. Even if this wasn’t a high protocol establishment, I wasn’t sure I knew how to handle myself in a middle protocol space, either—if that was even a thing.

It probably wasn’t, and I was just overreacting.

Good luck telling my overactive imagination that.

“Follow my lead.” Claude shrugged. “Sometimes subs are on speech restrictions, but their Domm will let you know. Besides, they know you’re new here.”

Just as they were starting to soothe my worries…

I squealed. “What do you mean, they know?”

They just chuckled in response. “Nothing sinister. Everyone just knows everyone around here.”

Huh.

I supposed that made sense, but it still didn’t make the heat from my cheeks dissipate as Claude took my hand again and led me toward one of the circular couches a few people were sitting around.

Sitting was a generous way of putting it, though. It looked more like a bunch of bisexuals had claimed the couch, and none of them had any interest in breaking away from the stereotype that we didn’t know how to sit down.

I dug it, not going to lie.

Claude didn’t let go of my hand even after we reached the eclectic group—not even when they were met with a bunch of quirked eyebrows and sly smiles.

“Don’t be assholes,” they grumbled. There were a few chuckles. “Is this really how you all greet someone after they haven’t visited in a month?”

“So dramatic,” one of the people drawled. They had a green mohawk and wore a leather ensemble that made them look like they’d come out of a documentary on punks in the 90s. “It’s your own fault if you don’t make time for us.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Claude rolled their eyes, but their lips were tilted into a smile. “Arlene, this is Clay. He uses he/they pronouns and is a pain in the ass.”

“I’m not.” Clay mock-gasped before they winked at me. “I can dole it out, though.”

“Uh…” I was going to combust.

“ This is why I don’t make time for you.” Claude sighed in complete exasperation. “And you’re not doing anything to her, we clear?”

Clay pouted. “But she’s cute.”

“Too bad.”

I swallowed. My hand squeezed Claude’s tighter. They seemed to be okay bantering with Clay, but I wasn’t good at that, and the other three people around the couch didn’t look like they were much better behaved.

I needed a minute to breathe.

Maybe I should’ve listened to Dylan. If he were here, he’d be drawing all attention to himself, which would give me the chance to do just that.