The Golden Goose 9

The Golden Goose 9

“You can produce three color prints?” Atticus asked, looking over the several proofs of the proposed literature. 

“Not at high capacity. We can do the binding, folding, and envelope stuffing.”

“What will you need to increase your production capacity?” Atticus asked, taking notes on the pad in front of him. “We might have some equipment that can be shifted from G&L itself.”

Jared rattled off several possibilities. They had been on the official business side for most of the day. Atticus was sharp and well organized; they had plowed through a mountain of work with surprising efficiency. Jared’s part of the operation was simple. He only had to print and bind a small rainforest worth of paper. It was Ryan’s job that sounded fraught with complication or at least the part of Ryan’s work Jared understood, and Jared didn’t understand much. He wasn’t even positive Ryan had promised to do the job or at least not on a full time basis. He’d made a couple of comments on continuing at his current jobs. Sheldon had laughed and pointed to Blade.

“Your lovely, redheaded boyfriend is my brother, and if you haven’t noticed, my husband is head of the Green Mountain Boys. Trust me, Milton and Gordon can be very persuasive.”

Ryan hadn’t seemed all that impressed. He’d tousled Sheldon’s hair and laughed.

Sheldon and Blade had been with them all day. Both of them spoke of previous experience with a couple from Texas, but Jared suspected their presence had more to do with discipline than with an actual need for their expertise. Blade was now sprawled against Ryan, his head on Ryan’s chest and his eyes half shut. Jared didn’t remember ever being in a business meeting where one of the participants was openly half sleeping, sprawled across his lover. He’d certainly sat through enough where he’d wished he could sleep, and he’d fallen in a near daze in a few, but he’d never thought of cuddling with a boyfriend. Sheldon had been down on the floor for the morning, not kneeling like at breakfast but sitting against Ryan’s legs. Ryan had pulled him up on the sofa a few hours ago, and he was now curled up against Ryan, his red hair mixing with his brother’s.

Jared shifted in his chair and stifled a yawn. He suddenly wished he was curled up like the two Zath men. Ryan referred to them as the Zath boys, but Sheldon was older than Jared, and while Blade was only a rising senior in college, that didn’t make him a boy. Jared hadn’t thought of himself as a boy in college. Of course here they or at least the ones identified as tops all called Jared kid, or boy, or kiddo. Ryan wasn’t any older than Jared; he might even be a year or two younger, and he called Jared kid or boy as if it were second nature. He said it with such easy affection and good humor that Jared could hardly object. Jared had always considered those muscle gods arrogant assholes with over inflated egos and an industrial sized narcissistic complex, but while Jared sensed Ryan could be scary as hell if he were truly mad, the man seemed genuinely friendly.

“Atticus, your boy looks dead on his feet. He’s starting to turn that interesting shade of gray again,” Ryan said and shifted the two heads from his chest. “It’s time to call it a day.”

“I’m fine,” Jared mumbled. They still had a pile of topics to cover. Atticus’s checklist was only about three quarters done, and it was only mid afternoon.

“Atticus,” Ryan said in a voice that sounded like a cross between a growl and throat clearing.

Atticus looked at Ryan, his eyebrows lifted.

“Call him on it when he says, ‘I’m fine.’ It’s not acceptable, and you’re the dominant. Figure that out now, or it’s going to be hell to sort out in a month or two when you’ve been acting like a part time top. You have a 24/7 boy. Talk it over with him and get it worked out. If I hear Jared say he’s fine one more time, I’ll swat him, and then I’ll come find you, and we’ll have a talk.”

“Ryan, I hardly know Jared.”

Jared felt himself flush, and he bit his lip to keep from shouting out that he was in the room. What would he say after that? Atticus was right; they did hardly know each other. Jared shouldn’t look at it as more than a fun evening last night. It was a quiet date in a rarefied atmosphere. He’d go home, and they’d only see each other as work colleagues. That’s what sensible people did; they sure as hell didn’t kneel on the floor at breakfast.

“Atticus put your arms around Jared.” The tone was unquestionably an order, not loud or even brusque, but Blade’s eyes snapped up to Ryan’s face, and Jared felt the air whistle from his lungs at his sudden exhale from the force of the command. Atticus hadn’t been oblivious to the compulsion either as he moved next to Jared and tentatively put his arm around Jared’s shoulder in a neutral gesture of companionship.

“What are you playing at, Ryan?” Atticus asked, his tone hinting at a sense of disbelief and humoring the crazy ones in the room.

“I’m not playing.” Ryan stared at Atticus with those same hard and penetrating eyes that had so nailed Jared to the wall this morning. “I don’t play those kinds of games. It’s my job at The Forest to recognize couples who play together versus couples who love each other. You and Jared may hardly know each other as you pointed out only a minute ago, but you two are in love. Don’t point out that love at first sight is the stock of bad romantic films. I’m aware of those clichés, but I met Blade at his little swim party.” Ryan ruffled Blade’s hair with his big hand. “Blade will readily own up to the fact that he was head over heels at first sight. I tried to be more responsible; it took me two glances.” Ryan kissed Blade’s cheek, a quick peck of affection and shared remembrances. 

“You two are crazy,” Atticus said stiffly, still standing with his arm draped over Jared’s shoulders.

“Maybe,” Ryan said with a shrug. “Certainly out there I could get that label. I took my lover to breakfast in chains this morning. Sheldon thought I was crazy, and he’s in the know.”

Sheldon flushed and mumbled, “Sorry.”

“We’ve worked that out, or at least I hope.” Ryan tousled Sheldon’s hair, caught a handful in his fist, and lifted Sheldon’s head. “Sheldon, Blade’s your brother. I respect that you care about his safety and his well being, but that caring must not become blind. You don’t get to spit on me every time you see me. It’s not fair to any of us.”

“I know,” Sheldon said softly, tears pooling in his green eyes.

“Don’t cry.” Ryan kissed the flushed forehead hard. “I’ve seen about all the tears I can handle in one day. I’m weird, but I like laughing and smiling boys, not crying boys.”

“I’m OK,” Sheldon said with a quick shake of his head as if that would clear the tears away. 

“Are we OK?” Ryan asked.

Sheldon nodded. “Yeah, I can do OK, not good yet. I’m sorry.”

“Shh.” Ryan kissed Sheldon’s forehead again. “If you’re not sticking pins in a Ryan shaped voodoo doll, I’m happy. We’ll work on the rest later.” He tousled Sheldon’s hair again in a gesture of easy affection. “I have to deal with my other two recalcitrants. No more drama on this side.”

“You got it,” Sheldon said with a brave attempt at a smile. “Whip Atticus and Jared into a sharp couple, and even better I understand you lost your bet with Blade.”

Ryan groaned. “Don’t remind me. When I have blue hair tomorrow, you’ll know why.”

“You’ll do it?” Blade asked with a broad smile.

“Of course, sweetheart, if that’s what you want. I lost fair and square, and I keep my word.” 

Ryan said he kept his word with such easy finality that Jared had no doubt he spoke the truth. All the men here, but Ryan and Blade especially, reveled in who they were. Jared had known he was gay since early high school and had been pretty suspicious in junior high, but this was far more than I’m gay and I’m proud. It was an open celebration of a sexuality that Jared alternately wanted to lock in a closet and throw away the key or fall to his knees and soak up the affection.

“Now you two,” Ryan said, and swung around, giving them both a protracted look. “You both are a mess. Face it; you two are perfect for each other. Landon knows his men. Atticus, give Jared a blasted hug; he’s not your nephew you see once a year. He’s your love, and don’t you dare give me that shocked look and start protesting that you just met. I’ll tan your ass all kinds of red if you don’t do right by that boy.”

“Do your mind?” Atticus whispered in Jared’s ear and wrapped his arms around Jared’s torso. “He seems agitated, and he has big muscles.”

Jared didn’t mind. He shamelessly snuggled against Atticus’s chest. What was the matter with him? He wasn’t a touchy-feely guy. He didn’t snuggle or kiss or want and need. Two days and this had happened to him! What would happen in a week? He’d let Milton bully him into staying. The concession had been a promise that he could go home tomorrow with Atticus for the interviews with Atticus’s people and to check in with Angus. Somehow Jared had ended up feeling that Milton had already wanted that result and it wasn’t a concession.

“Better,” Ryan said. “You still look like you’re facing a tooth extraction, but better.”

“I’m not you.” Even with his head buried in Atticus’s chest, Jared knew that had been said through clenched teeth.

“I know,” Ryan said with surprising easiness. “I work in a sex club; I wear my sexuality on my sleeve. Blade has lived with Milton. Milton, for all his pretense of the proper college professor, is Mr. Sexuality on a stick. He’ll talk about damn near anything in that lecturing tone of his. I thought I’d come to terms with myself, and I want to pull the covers over my head and stick my fingers in my ears when Milton starts going on, and I believe in the adage of if you’re old enough to do it, you’re old enough to talk about it. He trained Blade well. Blade knows what he wants, and in general he knows how to ask for it. You two, on the other hand, are a combination of bumbling teenagers the first time the parents are out of town and church ladies with blue hair. “It took Blade and me about five minutes to decide we wanted to have wild sex; and yes I know probably not for you. You’re not those kind of guys.” Ryan laughed softly.

“Is there a point to this?” Atticus asked, not hiding his irritation. “I’m not you; I think we’ve established that point.”

“Cranky,” Blade said with a laugh. “I’d get swatted for that tone.”

“You’re mine; I expect good manners. I assume Atticus merely forgot himself unless the attitude continues.”

“Ryan,” Atticus said with an attempt at a laugh. “You guys are impossible.”

“I’m keeping you off balance; it’s what I do. That’s why I’m cutting you a little slack.”

“Great,” Atticus grunted. “And what is this leading to?”

“Have faith.” Ryan must be smiling; Jared could hear it in his voice. “Take the rest of the day off: a nice hike, a naked swim in the lake, and a quiet nap with your boy. I’ll leave it up to you if you do more than nap in the bed.”

“Ryan,” Atticus spluttered.

“Buck up, man. Welcome to the world of the Green Mountain Boys.”

“I think I preferred the world of the G&L Foundation.”

“Stuffy,” Blade said with a laugh. “Naked swimming would be out.”

Atticus cleared his throat.

“He missed the swim party,” Ryan chimed in. “Abroad or something. We’ll have to fix that.”

Jared peeked out from Atticus’s arm. Ryan’s grin was evil and Blade’s matched his master’s. Master? Is that what they did? Jared wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He wasn’t that type of boy. He wasn’t a boy at all. What was wrong with him?

“You’re thinking too hard,” Ryan said and pulled Jared from the safety of Atticus. “Come on, kid. You suddenly look worried.”

“Nothing,” Jared mumbled, keeping his eyes down. Ryan was too damn perceptive. 

“Boy, one of the first lessons a submissive must learn is honesty. This game is no fun if you don’t speak up. Blade and I are still working on it, and you and Atticus will work on it for years; Milton and Sheldon still go through their spells.”

“Hanging upside down with a hot ass tends to loosen my tongue,” Blade said with only the faintest blush of embarrassment. “If that doesn’t work, there’s always the belt.” Blade gave a theatrical shudder. “That always works, trust me.”

Jared knew his eyes had to be wide with shock. He hadn’t thought about being whipped or caned or flogged or whatever other brutal punishment might be up a top’s sleeve. Ryan had massive arms, his biceps bulging against the sleeves of his polo shirt.  Wielding a whip, Jared didn’t want to think about it. The kiss of the whip, the lash against his skin. Stop! He wasn’t into fetishes. He was a normal guy who drank beer and moped at the Red Sox’s perennial collapse in the throes of the September pennant race. He didn’t shiver under the lash of some crazed man’s whip with steroid induced biceps and strange leather gear.

“Jared!” Ryan shook Jared, not hard, but the warning was clear. Ryan could shake Jared until his teeth rattled and his eyes rolled like a cheap toy without even flexing one of those huge muscles. “I don’t do silence.”

Jared gulped; he couldn’t talk about this. Atticus in his khakis and maroon polo would be mortified that Jared had entertained such thoughts even if for only a second. Whips, kneeling, shit this couldn’t be happening. He was a good boy. He didn’t do those things. There was that word again--boy. Jared had never thought of himself as a boy. Boys were those others, those pictures in frightening bars, people with piercings, tattoos and a wardrobe that Jared couldn’t imagine where to purchase, let alone wear.

“Jared!” The swat was hard even through his shorts. Ryan’s hand must be as big as his arm and was as hard as a plank. “Talk to me, kid. Your face is a dead giveaway that you’re hiding something: pale, sweaty, and lip between your teeth. I don’t need to be psychic. Are you watching this, Atticus? This will be your job soon enough.” 

Jared thought Atticus looked as bad as he felt, his eyes wide, his shoulders hunched in a defensive or shocked position. Atticus managed some sort of noise in his throat. Maybe a growl or was it a whimper?

“Oh great!” Blade sighed. “Two silent sufferers, and I thought I was going to get the afternoon off, to swim or to cavort through a field of wildflowers with my man chasing me. Now we have to sort them out.”

“Boy, down.”

Blade obviously understood the instructions. With only a quick glare under his lashes, he dropped to his knees and lowered his head.

“Jared, do you want this?” Jared flinched at Ryan’s words; Ryan voice hadn’t been loud; it only seemed loud on Jared’s frayed nerves.  “Atticus sit down on the sofa. Jared kneel at his feet.”

Jared’s legs moved; he didn’t remember directing them; they went on their own. Blade had knelt so gracefully; Jared’s knees popped and cracked as if he were approaching fifty, and he swayed as he searched for his balance. The floor was hard; he hadn’t thought about the surface on his knees. He was on a rug that he’d hardly noticed; probably expensive everything else here was. It was a muted brown tweed and real wool, or at least it scratched like real wool against his knees.

Jared had never noticed people’s shoes, but from this angle, his view was narrowed to shoes and trouser legs. Ryan was in jeans, faded, worn, and un-ironed in living memory. They had no tears; somehow Jared couldn’t see Gordon allowing torn pants within the sacred doors. Ryan’s hiking boots were scuffed at the toes and heels and double knotted. The laces, an odd orange and black pattern, flopped against the top, not neatly tucked away. Atticus was in Friday casual; his khakis either ironed by him or straight from the cleaners. His loafers weren’t exactly polished, but they weren’t scuffed or encrusted with dirt on the heels.

“Jared, keep your head down and put your hands behind your back.” 

That was Ryan, sounding stern but not angry. Jared guessed Ryan could be frightening. No. He knew Ryan could be frightening. He’d been terrifying this morning when he’d drilled Jared with all the properness of a school teacher. Jared hadn’t been on his knees, voluntarily helpless, but now Ryan didn’t sound frightening. His voice made Jared want to obey, not resist.

“I’m not angry; I’m not punishing you. This is about making it easier for you. I’m creating another focal point beside the words you want to say, but are afraid to say. Atticus, guide him closer. Let Jared lean against your pants; stroke his neck. You’re his anchor here. I’ll ask the questions, but it’s to you he’s talking. He’s your boy.”

Atticus’s boy. Had they given him away in some weird and foreign marriage ritual that Jared had been too naive to understand or even be aware of? He should get up and leave, but the hand felt good against his neck, restraining and comforting at the same time. There was nothing but the hand, slow and quiet. Jared breathed, the air shifting through his lungs in steady breaths. He leaned against Atticus’s thigh, smelling the laundry detergent and the faintest odor of mothballs. Atticus must have mothballs in his closest.

“Good boy. This helps.” Ryan was close now, his jeans almost touching Jared’s bent head, Jared’s vision obscured by the worn denim. “You’re scared shitless, and no I don’t use those words in front of Gordon. He’s far too liberal with the cane. You didn’t know you wanted this; you hadn’t imagined it, forbidden fruit not even to be thought about. Better to work and to rush and to sacrifice for others. This is all OK. You can have as much or as little as you want. Atticus will be good at this in his quiet, unassuming, and organized way. I’ve seen him manage Blade and Sheldon much to his chagrin and effort to deny it.”

Ryan paused and Jared felt a hand on his back: warm, heavy, and too big for Atticus’s. It stroked down Jared’s back, long and firm.

“You like to kneel?”

The inflection made it clear that an answer was expected. How could he answer that? He should be on his feet.

“Jared it’s only us. You can’t make Atticus guess. I have experience with lots of submissives, and I can’t trust myself to guess. I heard that it took Milton weeks to deduce that Mike wanted to kneel and several major and brutal blow ups. Talking is far less messy and less painful for everyone.”

“I don’t know.” Jared heard his voice. He hadn’t meant to speak, and it sounded fainter and softer than his usual tone. “I’d never thought about it before, but Blade he looked so happy, calm and content in a way I never imagined. He’s not usually calm, is he?”

Ryan ruffled Jared’s hair and laughed. “Calm isn’t a usual descriptor for Blade. Firecracker, hellion, lunatic are far more common.”

“I can see that,” Atticus said, his voice over Jared, deep and soft. “I’ve studied Jared’s workflow; he must be harried beyond my imagination, and that is without dealing with his home life.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

The tug on Jared’s hair was painful, and he snapped his head up. Ryan’s eyes had lost that warm blue and changed to a shade of frozen Arctic ice.

“Boy, on your knees is not a place for snide remarks. Atticus wasn’t offering you pity; he was fielding a hypothesis for why your breathing has slowed and I’m sure your heart rate to match when I put you on your knees.”

“Sorry,” Jared gulped, wanting to drop his head and get away from those eyes.

“I’ll get Blade and Sheldon to talk to you about fighting those who are trying to help. They do it enough.”

“Ryan,” Sheldon complained.

“This morning was a vivid example. Go kneel next to your brother.”

Sheldon groaned, and he must not have moved quickly enough because the hand disappeared from Jared’s hair as quick as it had grabbed it. The noise of the swat was distinct and Sheldon’s yip more so.

“Ogre,” Sheldon grumbled, but he slid to his knees next to his brother. “This isn’t my thing.”

“I know,” Ryan said gently. “You do best hanging over Milton’s knee, but you’re not my boy.”

“Everyone else spanks me.”

“You only half trust me. No thanks.”

“Ryan, you were decent to me today.” There was a pause, and Sheldon shifted on his knees. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Ryan said sincerely. “Your brother is mine. Within that responsibility is caring about those he loves. You’re his family, and even if you weren’t, I like you.”

“Why?”

“Sheldon, you tell me.”

“Does he always do this?” Sheldon asked his brother, his voice sounded pleading. 

Blade’s eyes darted toward Ryan as if asking to speak. Ryan nodded and gave Blade a gentle quirk of a smile. “Good boy.”

“I’m usually only allowed to speak on my knees if Ryan asks me a direct question, but he just gave me permission. The dominant must understand how the submissive thinks about himself.”

“That sounds pat. Did you memorize that like a well trained pet?”

“Sheldon!” Blade’s voice was hurt and angry.

“Do you need spanked badly enough that you’ll hurt your brother to get me to do it?” Ryan spoke quietly, but the intensity sent a shiver through Jared.

“Fuck you!!”

“Get Milton.” Ryan pulled Sheldon to his feet and pointed him toward the door. “Now, boy.” 

Sheldon turned. He looked younger, like his brother, with his eyes down and face flushed. “Sorry.” It was mumbled softly, almost inaudibly.

“Go. I’m not angry. Go,” Ryan repeated and Sheldon fled. “Up, Blade, you too, Jared.” Ryan moved to Jared’s side and ruffled his hair. “Confusing, kid, I know.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“Jared, you’re sweet.” Ryan pulled Jared against his chest in a brief hug. “Sheldon, Milton, and I are going to have a talk.” Ryan ruffled Jared’s hair. “I won’t hurt Sheldon which means I need him to talk to me honestly. It’s what I was trying to show you with Atticus. Milton knows Sheldon very well, and Sheldon doesn’t have to ask or at least in the words I need. A twitch of his eyebrow or a shift of his shoulders and Milton’s on it. I can’t do that; I can’t do that yet with Blade.”

Blade rolled his eyes. “Hopefully you never will, or I’ll never get away with anything.”

“You don’t want to get away with anything. I do know that about you.” Ryan’s voice was full of affection, and he was smiling.

To never get away with anything, what would that be like? To always be accountable. To have to talk about everything with someone who listened so intently. There was no pretense of social politeness when Ryan listened. He wasn’t idly watching someone talk while he mentally reviewed his grocery list or thought about the big game this weekend. How often had Jared done that? He could remember long stretches in their pretend conference room on uncomfortable folding chairs with the rickety table and watery coffee when he couldn’t remember a word of the conversation. He’d nodded appropriately, probably even said a few things, but he hadn’t heard or listened.

“You’re zoning.” Ryan’s fingers dug into Jared’s shoulder. “It’s a good response if you’re stuck at some never ending play party at Atticus’s feet, but not when I’m talking to you. This is your chance to have your voice heard. When you put on that green shirt, you gave us a hell of a lot of rights and also responsibilities. Don’t forfeit the ones you have remaining.”

Jared nodded; it seemed the appropriate thing to do. He didn’t have a clue what Ryan was talking about.

“Why did you just nod?” Ryan asked sharply.

Jared looked down at his shoes. It had been easier when he was kneeling; at least then he was supposed to keep his eyes on the floor. 

“Kid, you like to hide.” Ryan put his hand under Jared’s chin and forced his eyes up. “Melting into the floor might have been a good strategy out there. It’s a terrible one here. I’m a strong dominant. You’re silent acquiescence has given me permission to do as I please. I’m sure I do things with Blade that would turn your stomach. You and Atticus need to talk, not nod, mumble, and make polite noises at each other. I have a fair idea from your responses of what you want, and you and Atticus should be compatible.” Ryan smiled and fingered Jared’s hair. “I know you’re thinking I’m crazy. You just met Atticus. You need to be going out to dinner and making pointless conversation, and I’m telling you to talk about all these hard things.” Ryan kissed Jared’s forehead in that already familiar gesture from the tops and patted his rump. “Go have some fun, and you, Blade, go find Tilden and see if he needs help, but stay out of his hair.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

“Get before I decide you need a spanking before turning you loose.”

“But that might be fun.”

“Impossible boy.” Ryan moved quickly for a big man. He landed a flurry of swats on Blade that made him squirm and giggle. “Redheads! Whatever possessed me?”

*****

Jared ran his fingers through his hair. The shower had removed the leaves, weeds, and dirt mixed with tiny stones that had adorned his boring brown hair. He looked at himself in the mirror. He still couldn’t believe they had done that. Atticus was such a buttoned down man, or at least Jared had thought he was. He hadn’t been this afternoon.

They’d walked up the trail, hand in hand like school children with their first crush. The woods had been cool with the sun drifting through the leaves in a shadow play of light and dark. A startled squirrel had raced up the tree, chattering at them below.

It hadn’t been during the walk; it had been afterward at the sheltered lake, a clear oasis in the trees. Without a second thought, Atticus had shed his clothes and charged into the water. Jared had hovered on shore, stunned. Skinny dipping was something others did. Jared would probably have stayed on shore if Atticus hadn’t come splashing out of the water, his hair dripping on his bare neck, the distinct lines of a summer tan visible on his naked body. His fingers had tangled in Jared’s buttons, and then with a sharp tug he’d pulled the shirt over Jared’s head. The shorts had followed with an effortless slide down his hips. Jared had kicked off his shoes and found himself in the freezing cold water.

Atticus had chased him through the water. Wet, with his hair in his eyes, laughing and shouting, he had looked far younger than his mid thirties, and Jared could hardly imagine the serious and quiet man who represented the G&L Foundation. Out of the water, they had sat on the sun warmed boulders, skin against nature. It had started with a gentle stoke down his chest. 

Jared groaned, feeling the soreness in his body. It wasn’t that Atticus hadn’t been careful and considerate; it had just been too long. Jared looked in the mirror again. No one would be able to tell, would they? His cheeks looked a little too pink, but he could claim that was from the sun. The shirt scraped across his tender chest. Jared knew he had a bruise or two from Atticus’s mouth, but they were well hidden. 

He needed to stop looking at himself; no one would know, or at least no one would know if he went and mingled with the rest outside. In here, someone was sure to barge in and start asking awkward questions. They were good at that, especially Ryan.

Jared made his way down the stairs and out to the patio, glad he hadn’t met any inquisitive tops on the way. Outside he was surprised to see only Sheldon sweeping the patio steps.

“They’re all off playing baseball; you’re man pitched in college so he was recruited.” Sheldon gave Jared an appraising look. “You guys must have had a good time. I thought I saw it on Atticus, but it definitely shows on you.”

Jared knew his face was flaming red, but it was hard to be mad at Sheldon; his smile was too genuine and suggested an air of shared adventure. “It’s that obvious?”

“Yep,” Sheldon said, “and congratulations. Atticus is a great guy, and he’s a good top, even though he likes to pretend he doesn’t play this game. You guys will be great together.”

“Sheldon! I met him yesterday. It’s not time for wedding bells.” Sheldon was insane! It was a bit of fun for the weekend.

“It was an arranged marriage; you two just didn’t know about it which is why Gordon almost blew a gasket. They do it all the time. Landon’s been looking a long time for the right partner for Atticus, strongly submissive but not much into pain, a nice reserved guy who wants a little direction and maybe an occasional spanking.” Sheldon rubbed his ass. “Don’t get yourself spanked by Ryan and then Milton in immediate succession. That wasn’t a little spanking, and I got saddled with work detail also. Fuck, I’m sore, and now I have to push this broom around. Naughty boys do the chores.” Sheldon looked over his shoulder. “If I get caught chatting, my ass will be in a sling.”

Jared stared at Sheldon; he couldn’t tell if he was being teased. Should he laugh or should he be angry at Sheldon suggesting that he was somehow a bride to be given away?

“Oh shit! Now I’ve scared you, and I’m short leashed right now. Milton will do something ugly if I send you running for shelter. Grab a broom and give me some cover, and I’ll try to explain,” Sheldon pleaded. “My ass can’t take any more.”

Jared grabbed a broom. He didn’t mind sweeping, and it was something to occupy himself other than the thoughts swirling around his head. He couldn’t help but like Sheldon, but three days ago Jared would never have hung out with a Sheldon type person. Jared wasn’t into kink; he didn’t swim naked; he didn’t have sex in the open air with a man he’d met the day before. 

“So you and Atticus had a good time?” Sheldon asked with a wry grin.

Jared flushed and nodded. There was no use denying it. Sheldon was much too wise.

“Good for you.” Sheldon said with a laugh. “Seize the day.”

“Was it arranged?” Jared said, keeping his eyes down on the dirt he was sweeping toward Sheldon’s pile. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. The thought that men he didn’t even know were arranging his life was both frightening and exhilarating. 

“Some,” Sheldon said. “It’s not uncommon for us.”

“You with Milton?”

“No, worse,” Sheldon said with his ready smile. “Milton had to do the white knight rescue thing. Please save me from the bad guy and please spank me for being an idiot. Far worse than arranged. Tilden found his partners on a TV show, well one of them. Mike came as a packaged deal, two for one. Yep, we’re all crazy, and if you haven’t figured that out yet, you need to beat it back to Boston.”

“I think I’ve got that,” Jared said with an attempt at a smile. And what was he doing here? Crazy wasn’t his thing. 

“Don’t fret over it.” Sheldon slapped Jared on his back. “Buck up, kiddo.”

“Is that what everyone says here?” Jared asked with some exasperation. He wasn’t a kid or a kiddo.

“Life’s good here, and this is from someone who had a spanking in stereo.”

“Sheldon, this is your work.”

“Tilden, come on.” Sheldon was whining, his tone that of a petulant six-year-old, and he seemed completely unashamed.

“Not now,” Tilden said in a soft voice. His arm was around one of the young men who Jared had seen but not met in the blur of last night’s cookout. The young man was unnaturally pale, his skin sharply white against his black hair, and a faint trickle of blood dripped from his lip that was already starting to swell.

“Baseball?” Sheldon asked.

“Fistfight and get back to work. Jared will you run in and get some ice.” Tilden steered the young man to a chair on the far side of the patio in the shade of a striped umbrella. He pulled the man down into his lap, his voice too soft for Jared to hear as he hurried on the errand.

Ice, towel, and a bag had been easy to procure. No one raised an eyebrow at Jared’s request. Tilden must have chased Sheldon to the far end of the patio where he was busy sorting game equipment. 

“Graham, what were you thinking?”

“Does it matter? I’m not staying.”

Jared stood, half hidden behind the potted tree and the cluster of umbrella topped patio tables, listening to a conversation he knew should be private.

“Do you want to safeword?”

“Yes. Chrysanthemum.”

“Very well,” Tilden said gravely. “Jared, stop hiding behind those tables. We need a witness. Are you OK with Jared being your witness? You may select anyone of your choice.”

“He’s fine.”

“Jared.” Tilden beckoned with his hand. “Sit here. Graham will sit across from me.” Tilden slid Graham off his lap and squeezed his shoulder. “Sit over there please and put some of the ice on your lip.”

Graham moved slowly to the far chair as if he was upset at losing his perch on Tilden’s lap. He bit his lip, making the blood flow faster.

“From this point on, you’re free to go at anytime,” Tilden said formally. “I have no more hold on you than any other acquaintance with whom I might be chatting. You may tell me anything or nothing, and also let me remind you that choosing to leave the program is not a failure on your part. This lifestyle from a safe distance appeals to many, but up close it is often less than pleasant.”

Graham nodded. He looked terribly young. Jared imagined he must still be in college. Graham held the icepack to his lip. “I can’t stay.”

Tilden nodded, his eyes kind and gentle. “I understand that. Do you have someplace to go tonight?”

“No.”

“Family?”

“Oh yeah, I can run home like a whipped puppy to the chorus of I told you so. That will be fun.” Graham buried his face in his hands. His words came out in a torrent. “I’d played some. I’d liked being spanked and cuddled. I thought I wanted this. I’m an idiot. I didn’t understand the control. Last night when Milton came and turned off my light, I knew then. I don’t want a bedtime; I don’t want to be told what to wear. It’s suffocating. I can make those choices for myself.” Graham raised his head. “I can make those choices for myself,” he repeated.

“Of course you can,” Tilden said. He interlaced his long fingers. “The choice you make as a submissive in a power exchange relationship is to allow your dominant to make some of those choices for you. You give your top that power; it has nothing to do with capability, but it is a choice that only suits a few. You don’t have to justify your reason to leave. The purpose of this little camp is for men to get a taste of a power exchange before they have to commit in a safe and secure environment. By the end only one or two will remain.”

“I’m not a quitter.”

“It’s not about quitting. It’s about knowing yourself.” Tilden looked over at Jared, his eyes warm, blue specks flickering in a pool of violet. “Jared found the opposite about himself. You, Graham, berate yourself for fleeing our world, while Jared berates himself for fleeing the real world to play our games. Neither is true.” Tilden smiled softly. “Now for the official part. Graham you intended to use your safeword?”

“Yes.”

“And you understand by using the safeword chrysanthemum you will be released from all activities?”

“Yes.”

“Do you need assistance with your travel arrangements?”

“That’s it?” Graham asked, looking directly at Tilden for an instant before studying the surface of the metal table again.

“We respect the safeword.”

Graham nodded slowly. “I’ll try to make arrangements. I did say I wanted to take care of myself,” he said bitterly.

“You did, but that doesn’t mean you can’t ask me for a train table or for a bed for a few nights while you figured out where to go. Think about it,” Tilden said and stood up. “Jared, it’s a formal dinner tonight. Do you have appropriate clothes?”

Jared tried to click his mind to the new topic. “Khakis and a blazer.” Graham was leaving. It had been one word, and he was out. Jared should have insisted. He was older; he had responsibilities.

Tilden’s arm snaked around his waist. “You’re having second thoughts?”

“I don’t know,” Jared said honestly.

“It’s hard; it’s always hard in the beginning, but if you’re having more good times than bad, you should stay.”

That was so simple, so direct; a math equation Jared could do. The lake with Atticus, Sheldon and the chocolate croissant, Ryan’s kind eyes. By the math, he should stay.