Scott was opening his letter.
Joe took one step away from the door, then another. A smile twisted his lips as he turned and walked down the stairs, then out through the front door.
The first thing Scott had done once he had permission to free himself was open the letter. Joe’s smile grew into a grin as he imagined Scott naked and sitting on the edge of his bed, reading his message.
As he reached his car, Joe glanced at his watch. Forget working out the travel time to the club. Calculating just how long it would be until he received Scott’s answer to his invitation was much more fun.
* * * * *
Scott’s hands shook so badly he had to rest Joe’s letter on the bed to have any chance of reading it. Finally, the letters steadied themselves. Joe’s scrawl was messy, but legible.
Arrive at the club at two am. Take the empty stool at the end of the bar.
No alcohol. No talking. No fidgeting. No underwear.
Expect to obey every order I give you. Disobedience will be punished.
Your safe word is still unicorn.
Scott took a deep breath. The lingering scent of sex filled his senses. Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the ceiling above his bed as if he had never seen it before.
He’d done it. Bloody hell, he really had. Joe was interested. Holding the paper above him, Scott read it again. Months of sitting in the corner of the club, watching Joe flirt with anything that moved, trying to build up the courage to speak to him and failing time and time again—it all seemed like a lifetime ago.
Scott rolled onto his stomach and inhaled deeply. The scent of Joe’s arousal clung to his sheets. Closing his eyes, Scott relished Joe’s lingering presence while he still had the chance.
He’d been granted exactly what he wanted. All he had to do now was hope like hell that he had the balls to follow through with it—to take the game out of his nice safe bedroom and into the wider world.
Shutting his eyes even more tightly, Scott pulled the blankets up over his head. Warmth and comfort surrounded him. It almost felt as good as it had when Joe had lain on top of him, pinning him to the mattress.
The letters on the front of the envelope rolled around and around inside his mind.
R.S.V.P.
Joe expected Scott to reply to the orders he’d left for him with complete obedience and Scott wasn’t going to let him down.
Part Two: RSVP
There was no way anyone in the club could have guessed that Scott wasn’t wearing underwear, but, as he tried to weave his way through the mass of gyrating bodies on the dance floor, he felt like there was a flashing red light floating above his head to signal that he’d left his boxers at home.
When yet another man tried to grab his arse, Scott started to wonder if that light also indicated that he’d be more than happy for every man in the club to cop a feel and check out his lack of underwear for themselves.
Scott pulled away as unfamiliar hands slid around his body and tried to draw him into the dance. He stumbled forward, deafened by the music blaring from the speakers. By the time Scott made it to the bar on the far side of the room, his head was spinning, and his heart was racing.
Gasping for breath, he pushed his hair back from his face. The moment he looked up, he saw Joe standing on the opposite side of the bar.
Joe looked Scott slowly up and down.
Forget underwear; Scott might as well have been stark bollock naked. Joe seemed to look straight through the black denim stretched over Scott’s hard on, as if x-ray vision were par for the course in his own very special version of the world.
Scott’s mouth went dry. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His palms turned slick with sweat. It was more luck than judgement that he didn’t come in his jeans.
He screwed you just a couple of hours ago. He flogged you, screwed you and ordered you to turn up here minus your underwear.
Scott whimpered. Whatever stupid little part of his brain insisted on reminding him of those facts really wasn’t helping him not to come before they even got started.
Without warning, a flailing elbow caught Scott painfully in the ribs. He looked over his shoulder, but the drunken dancer didn’t seem to have noticed the collision. Scott rubbed absentmindedly at his side as he turned back to Joe.
Joe was frowning. Scott instantly wanted to apologise. He wasn’t sure what he was sorry for, but the need to make Joe happy was damn near overwhelming.
