“Well, as they say, you can take the kink out of kink camp…”
“How you planning to finish that sentence?” Zion asks, wrapping his arms around me and bending to give me a quick peck on the lips.
Just a peck, to anyone watching, but we both know it’s more than that. A whole lot more.
“You coming for your interview?” Gigi leans in, eyes blazing with excitement. “She’s dying to ask how you met.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Are you kidding me? Dahling, I wasbornfor this.” Her grin’s contagious and, when I look up, I’m not the only one who’s caught the bug.
Zion’s looking on with a big smile and something that looks an awful lot like love on his face.
“My heart’s never been so full,” I tell him and Gigi and, frankly, anyone else who’ll listen.
“Yeah. Well, I didn’t know I had a heart. So…” He leans in and plants another kiss on my lips—this one deep and wet and sexy—and pulls back. “I’d say we’ve done pretty well.”
“You got that right,” says Gigi, slapping us both hard on the back. “Now, come on. Let’s spread the love, shall we?”
EPILOGUE
Eighteen months later…
Zion
“Quiet everybody! Quiet on the set!” Lamé yells into a pink gold microphone. The feedback has people squealing and laughing and throwing popcorn in return.
“Sheesh, sorry.” They flick their hair behind their shoulder and turn to me. “I guess this is your show, Z. Come on up here.” Quietly, they add, “Tough crowd today.”
Laughing, I give Lamé a one-armed hug and accept the mic, then wave Twyla up onto the Dungeon’s stage.
She shakes her head, but I just wait her out and, after an eye roll and a stuck out tongue, she gives in with a sigh, stomps up on stage, and slides herself under my arm, like I knew she would.
My woman. My wife.
“Hey, y’all,” I say to the gathered crowd.
“Hi Zion!” They reply, like we’re at a goddamn puppet show. And that’s about the atmosphere, I guess. A few hundred kinksters gathered to watch the fruits of their labors for the first time, in a safe, happy place.
Twyla, dressed in finery like the rest of us, giggles, her body a soft, sleek piece of heaven pressed tight to my body. Her dress is this… fuck, I don’t know what you’d call it, but it’s long and sort of slippery and it hugs her tits and makes me want to bite her arms and the whole thing’s this bright blue waterfall that I want to dive face-first into.
Later, though. Later.
Right now, we’ve got things to do.
I put up a hand to stop the crowd’s totally unnecessary applause.
“All right. All right. First off, I want to thank each and every one of you for everything. And by everything, I mean for saving my goddamn life.” A few hoots are quickly shushed. “But much more importantly, I want to thank you for stepping up and correcting my mistakes, for making sure that we’ve got a camp to come to every year, when I just about went and blew it for everyone.” I wave off a few good-natured catcalls. “For that, I want to apologize.” I suck in a deep breath. “And, ah, I want to, uh, shamelessly piggyback on this moment to, uh…” I turn and take a step back from Twyla, leaving her standing alone onstage, which is hard, dammit. I don’t like leaving her there, though I know the woman can handle the spotlight.
She narrows those dark eyes at me, one brow curved up in a question and anI’m gonna kill you when this is over, but I ignore all that and reach into my pocket and pull out a box.
I’m shaking. Like a leaf. But I guess that’s okay, ’cause if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s to trust these people, Twyla first amongst them. They’ll rib me, but they won’t tear me down.
And hell if they don’t have my back like nobody’s business.
“Twyla, baby. I know we’re already wedded.”
“Happily,” she leans over to say in the mic.
