Seeing that shirtless man, and thinking of my type–what I was attracted to–nowhere in there did I think of a woman. I didn’t think of femininity or breasts, only their personality and how I wanted to be with them. I’d only ever been with women, and always thought my appreciation for a strong man or well-fitted suit was admiration alone.
Could I be bisexual?
CHAPTER FIVE
GEORGE
Research was all welland good, but it kept leading me to porn and I didn’t get off that way. I’d read somewhere that men were stimulated visually while women were mental. And I meant that as in their heads, not in a bad way. Clearly, the sexes weren’t as binary as the old scientists would have us believe, because I much preferred reading a good erotic story over video.
So I’d dug deeper, past the advertisements. The amount of genders and sexualities was mind blowing, and the kink world had expanded a lot since the few times I’d checked out seedy clubs in my youth. Angie and my children’s friends had taught me some things over the years, but I’d never wanted to look further than what they told me. Besides, I wouldn’t ask teenagers about their sex lives.
Some information I passed immediately, when I saw they were meant as click bait, and not to educate. I took an online Kinsey scale test, and it seemed to have me as more heterosexual. Many of the questions were about sexual partners I’d already had, so my score of two was surprising to me. A zero meant only being attracted to the opposite sex, a six meant only being into the same sex, and a three would be even. Bisexual.
How did you know if you were into dicks if you’d never let yourself think about them beyond taking a piss?
Moving onto my kinkier tendencies, I did a test which said I was ninety-eight percent Dominant, ninety-five percent Daddy, ninety-two percent Owner, and ninety percent Sadist. The Daddy part I had to wonder about. Was it from being a devoted father? Dominant and Sadist didn’t surprise me, since I had a perverse desire to hurt not only my enemies…
Everything led me to X Club in San Francisco. An inclusive kink dungeon with local owners and a lot of educational information. I read a lot about consent and edge play, getting hard at the images of people on their knees, tied up with heads bowed in supplication, red marks across bare skin. And some of these people were clearly men.
If I wasn’t bi, I was definitely kink-sexual.
This X Club wouldn’t have only straight people, so I could look my fill and not feel out of place, and they had visitors nights open to the public. I very much doubted anyone I knew would be there. And if they were? Then they weren’t “vanilla" either.
Bookmarking the page, I saw the next visitor's night started in a couple hours. No time like the present, right?
Throwing on my suit jacket, I pressed the built-in intercom on my desk phone, “Santo, I’m going into the city for a few hours.”
The cityalways meant San Francisco, and Santo responded by the time I stood to button my coat and check for wrinkles. “Of course, Don Giorgio. Do you need me to drive you?”
Considering for a moment and making my way out of my study, I found Santo waiting in the foyer where I’d expected him. X Club was in the Tenderloin neighborhood, a very seedy area, but I’d carry my concealed weapon and walk a couple blocks. I had never been mugged, and didn’t intend to let it happen now I was out of the mob.
“No, thank you, Santo. It will be a quick trip to one location.” I straightened my cufflinks before patting the older man on the shoulder. “I’ll take the Jaguar and pay for parking.”
“Understood, Don Giorgio.”
Josefina poked her head around the corner from the kitchen, “When should we expect you home? I madeRisotto alla Milanese.”
“I’ll likely be home before midnight,” I explained. Her food was divine, but I’d get the saffron tinted sauce on my face or suit and would have to shower and change. “Thank you, Josefina. Leave a plate for me?”
She grumbled in Italian about risotto not being as good reheated, but still came over to kiss my cheek before disappearing.
“Don’t wait up,” I waved to Santo and got my favorite car from the garage. I didn’t have to uncover it, since I’d taken it to Berkeley.
The drive to the Bay Bridge and into the city after eight was easy, and I found a theater with good parking. My stomach started doing a dance from nerves I wasn’t used to, and I was glad I hadn’t eaten. It was just a kink club. I had nothing to fear.
After my ID was checked before entering under a big, red, neon X sign, a rainbow-haired hostess greeted me. “Hello, Welcome to X Club! Have you been here before?”
My answer in the negative led to a full rundown of the club rules, their philosophy on consent, and an offer of a tour. I turned it down, wanting to explore and make my own observations first. I didn’t catch their name, and called themRainbow, and they said that worked as good as anything, so long as I usedtheyandthempronouns.
“Noted, thank you for information,” I gave my patented half smirk and they purred.
“Ooh, you are going to be popular,” the little rainbow sprite pretended to paw the air at me. “Have fun, Daddy!”
Information I’d read online said that most titles like Dom and Owner were reserved for relationships, but Daddy seemed to be a queer culture term for older men. I was that. Looking around at the people stowing bags in cubbies, some half naked while others wore formal attire like me, I was one of the oldest people in the place.
Maybe coming to the club had been a mistake?
They were clearly inclusive of genders and sexualities, and had a big sign that read ‘Your kink is not my kink, and that’s okay,’ but that didn’t mean it was the right crowd for me. I turned a corner, past couches with people making out and cuddling in little to no clothing, and saw a few men with white hair or none at all.
