Then I met Charles.
Charles the business hawk, the dashing young man with a career as promising as my own. Charles whose companionship I enjoyed and who was as comfortable at the Met Gala as he was lying around watching movies on my couch. Charles who seemed perfect, until I told him I wanted to spank him and maybe tie him up a little, too.
It was like a record screeching to a halt, or the squeal of tires right before a car crash. You would have thought I told him I was a serial killer, his rejection was that absolute.
Because whips? Masculine, high-class BDSM? Fancy clubs and black leather? All of that was acceptable, cool even.
But wanting to pull down a guy’s pants and spank him was somehow the wrong type of kinky. And if Charles’s reaction was any indication, the wrong kind of kinky could spell death for a rising career like mine.
When the offer to move to Denver and take over an urban revitalization project came my way the next week, it seemed to be the perfect escape. I was driving myself out of my damn mind with anxiety that Charles was going to run all over town spilling my secrets and trashing my reputation out of spite and judgment. The idea of getting a little time back in my hometown to clear my head and reconnect with my grandpa seemed too good to resist.
I curled up against the throw pillows and flipped the television to some old movie. I tried to convince myself to go wash up properly and head to bed, but almost immediately, my eyelids grew heavy, and I started slipping into dream world.
There was a lot I had left behind in New York, but I couldn’t lie. For once, I was just happy to be in a city that slept.
* * *
The next afternoon, my driver deposited me at a quiet corner in the Baker neighborhood. I wore a casual polo and a pair of khaki pants, like I usually did for site visits. Stepping out of the vehicle, I popped on my sunglasses and took assessment of the location.
According to the plan I was given when I accepted the job as the Chief Operating Officer, this location was scouted to become a site of green development. That meant a bus stop, some solar-powered street lights, a landscaping revamp, and some money earmarked from the Small Business Loan Administration, among other perks. It was one of many sites across the city that were being simultaneously developed, and I was taking the next few weeks to visit them all personally.
Maybe the Denver gig didn’t require the same cutthroat attitude as New York projects, but I still intended to crush it. And to do that, I had to understand the city, from the street level up. Considering I hadn’t lived there in seven years, that involved getting my hands dirty.
I walked a slow circle around the intersecting streets. There was a wildly overgrown garden, taking up an entire lot at the end of the block. I frowned to see it was the site of the bus stop, but considering that the bus stop had its own green landscaping crew, and the garden itself looked half-abandoned, I supposed it made sense.
A couple of buildings were abandoned, but not neglected. There was a brightly painted candy store that made me immediately smile, and I felt the temptation of walking straight in and indulging my sweet tooth. Sipping from my cappuccino instead, I let my eyes trail across the few remaining businesses. I imagined all of them would see a substantial boost from the redevelopment.
I pulled out my phone to begin recording a few voice memos, rambling about proximity to the light rail and residential density while my regular driver, Bruce, waited patiently to take me to the next location.
And then I noticed the candy store again.
There was a giant sign in the window that readCandy Will Make You Happy, and for some reason, I smiled to myself when I saw it.
I nodded to my driver, then headed to the shop, the late summer sun shining down on me. What the hell was the use of moving away from New York if I wasn’t going to give myself the space to skip a workout, eat some candy, and actually chill for a damn minute?
I stepped into the shop, and a little bell chimed through the air. I blinked, startled by how colorful and packed the store was. There were shelves and nooks in every direction, giant jars of sweets with plastic shovels filling the aisles, and a confusingly large assortment of lollipops and suckers.
“Good afternoon,” a bright, welcoming voice called out from the back. “Welcome to Sweet Sensations.”
A man stepped out from behind a row of licorice, a small box in his hands. He had on a bright pink shirt and a pair of jeans that hugged his legs and his butt so perfectly, I could have stared all afternoon. My gaze floated back up to his face, and I saw the open light in his eyes and the peachy curves of his cheeks. A mess of tousled black hair fell across his hazel gaze, and he shoved the box under his arm to push the strands aside.
He must have been in his mid-twenties, although he looked younger than that. There was something about his pouty lips and his slim, svelte body…
It nearly took my breath away.
“Can I help you… Dominick?” he said suddenly, his voice rising into a surprised lilt.
I blinked and set my coffee on one of the few open counter spaces. “I’m sorry—do we know each other?” I asked.
He bit down softly on his bottom lip, and my heart stirred. I couldn’t imagine I had forgotten someone as angelic as this man.
“I’m not sure you’d remember me,” he said, hurrying to place the box behind the counter. “We went to college together? I was a freshman when you were a senior.” Without the box, he suddenly looked awkward, and he leaned behind the counter as though he were exposed.
I let myself drift into his gaze and startled when a memory came back to me.
Senior year. Truth or dare. It was before I was casually navigating kinky hookups in Manhattan, before I had even admitted my desires to myself. Some frat boy in the dorm tried to get me to spank this guy. I’ll never forget sitting there, horrified that I was going to have to stand up in front of all those people with my suddenly throbbing erection and terrified to admit even to myself what it meant.
And then he ran away, saving me from myself, although I was desperate for him to stay.
And even though I hadn’t seen him since, I’d spent plenty of time fantasizing about spanking his sexy, pert butt after that evening.
“Xavier,” I said, pretending to have to search for it. Pretending I didn’t fall asleep with his name on my lips for months after that brief encounter.
I met his eyes and smiled. Considering he ran away from that game, he couldn’t have been too happy about the dare himself. He was probably a regular guy, unburdened by the kinds of kinks that kept me up at night. Best to be friendly and to pretend it was all forgotten.
Even if the desire that ignited that night burned in me just as strongly as ever.
Even if he looked every bit as enticing as he did in the dorms.
Damn it, Denver, I thought.I just came in for a piece of candy.
