I see him sit in front of me out of the corner of my eye and realize I need to look him in the eye for this conversation. I have rules to explain, I have to give him contracts to sign, and I need to see if he understands how important it is that he hears everything I tell him.
“Do they call you Daddy Jake just because you’re in charge or...” He leaves the question open-ended.
“Not only, no.” I suck in a deep breath and steel myself for delivering a BDSM and kink crash course. “I am a Daddy, but thisismy establishment. Inside these walls, everyone gets to be whoever they want to be. Including me. That means no one’s forced to call me anything, really, if they don’t want to.”
It would normally baffle me, that someone’s reaction to that statement is wide eyes and a sexy lower-lip bite, but I’m tooentranced by how fucking good he looks to think about it beyond just noticing it.
He keeps staring, unflinching, and I have to resist shifting in my seat. That would be embarrassing.
“Right.” The threat of fumbling snaps me out of whatever that brain fart was, and I look down at my desk and move a few sheets of paper around just to keep my hands busy. “So, Provoke is both a sex club and a brothel. To have access to either, you have to have a membership. Normally, you can only get one if a person who’s already a member invites you and vouches for you.”
When he doesn’t immediately answer, I’m forced to look back at him, and I see something like relief slam into him.
“That’s why the scary security guard came in,” he says.
“Yes, we get very few people coming in alone, and well, you’re tall, strong, unexpected, and were talking to the only woman who works here who has any contact with members, so...”
“Yeah, no. That makes sense. I’m just glad they didn’t think—I wouldn’t—I’m not a violent person, I promise.”
The way he stumbles over his words, the earnest look on his face, and the obvious desperation for me to believe him would be enough, but again, he’s Benny’s friend, and that’s more than enough of a reference for me.
I don’t know if I should tell him that, though.
But I’ve gotta give him some kind of reassurance.
“I know, Tim. You wouldn’t be here otherwise, and?—”
“Timmy,” he blurts out, interrupting me.
“Okay.” I suck in a fortifying breath. “Timmy.”
“So that was the only woman here?” It takes me long enough to understand what he’s asking that he speaks again. “The one at the reception?”
“That’s Jo, yeah. This is a men-only sex club, which of course includes trans men, and we make sure everyone here is treated with the utmost respect and privacy.”
“I didn’t know it was only for men,” he whispers.
“How did you even find out about Provoke?”
I can’t hold back the question any longer.
“There was a sign just outside a restaurant we went to one night.”
That’s . . . vague.
“We?”
God, why is that the first question out of my mouth? For fuck’s sake.
“The team,” he says quickly, with a nod and that earnest look he has, but when realization hits, I can’t hold back the annoyed groan. “What?” he asks, and when I look I see he’s scared now.
That won’t do.
At least now I know what he looks like when he’s scared so I’ll be able to step in in the—very unlikely—event that something happens while he’s here.
With other men . . .
Enjoying himself . . .