“Yes, what?”
“Yes,sir.”
By some miracle, Mister Doodles hadn’t made a mess anywhere, and Tom raced outside to walk her. He promised her a thousand doggy treats for being such a good dog, grateful she had spared him the embarrassment of cleaning up poop in front of his hot date.
Cypress was waiting patiently inside the living room, lounging comfortably on the couch.
They’d both driven their separate cars over to Tom’s house after finishing the delicious dinner. Tom didn’t see any sign of his fellow employees, and he was glad because it would be a little weird trying to explain why he was having an impromptu date in the middle of their garage.
He’d helped Cypress clean up and pack away the chairs and table—which, as it turned out, belonged to the funeral home. They were used to set up for visitations, particularly ones that had catering. Cypress had found them in the back of the garage and borrowed them to set up for the date.
Tom’s fingers were shaking by the time he came back in with Mister Doodles, fumbling to get her leash unhooked. He fed her the offensive kibble and called out to Cypress, “Would you like something to drink?”
“Wine if you have it.”
Searching his kitchen turned up a bottle of muscadine wine and a few beers in the fridge. He made a mental note to go grocery shopping so he’d actually have something good to offer guests. He poured them each a glass of wine and sat down beside Cypress on the couch.
Having ignored her kibble, Mister Doodles had taken up residence in Cypress’s lap.
Cypress was petting her, accepting the wine with a smile. “Mmm, thank you.” He smirked down at the dog. “So, this is the dreaded man-eater?”
“That’s her,” Tom laughed.
“Very fearsome.”
“Right? Heh.” Tom anxiously cleared his throat. “So, what exactly do we need to talk about for sex?”
“Jumping right in, aren’t we?” Cypress chuckled, leaning in to kiss Tom’s cheek. “I love your enthusiasm.”
“Well, you said we had to talk about it.” Tom sipped his wine, aiming for confident. “This is me wanting to talk about it.”
“First and foremost, when was the last time you were tested?” Cypress asked.
“After I broke up with my ex-boyfriend a few months ago,” Tom replied easily. This kind of sex talk he could handle. “You?”
“Last month, totally clean, and I haven’t been with anyone since. Now, I have condoms, but I’m leaving it up to you if we use them or not. Everybody’s got their preferences, so—”
“I’m good without,” Tom mumbled, slurping his wine noisily. “I’m so good.”
“Fine by me.” Cypress smiled. “Now, time for the fun stuff.”
“Fun stuff?” Tom’s confidence began to drain. It was one thing to discuss protection and STI’s, but now they were headed into uncharted territory.
“You’ve never been in any kind of dominant and submissive relationship before,” Cypress began, “but you are absolutely dying to be my submissive.”
“Yes?” Tom cringed.
“Oh, that was a statement, not a question.” Cypress stopped petting Mister Doodles and reached for Tom’s hand. “It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a sub.”
“I’m not… weird?”
“The only thing ‘weird’ about any of this is thinking there is something inherently deviant about enjoying sex,” Cypress said. “Sex is fun, makes you feel good, and there’s tons of ways to express yourself. One of those ways just happens to be submitting yourself to another person.”
“So, like with whips and chains?”
“Baby steps,” Cypress teased. “We’ll get there eventually if you’d like, but that’s why we need certain rules in place for safety.”
“Like the two tap thing?”
