Club by Parker Avrile & Alec Stark

Author:Parker Avrile & Alec Stark [Avrile, Parker]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: new adult gay romance, college gay romance, bdsm, May December gay romance, student teacher gay romance, Gay
Publisher: Paris April Press
Published: 2017-06-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

In some ways, the party started like a party—the awkward beginning when you've arrived too early and all the preparations aren't quite in place. The smell of crispy fried finger foods sizzling in hot oil. The conspiratorial murmur of the staff. The squeal of feedback from a badly adjusted speaker. Soundcheck. Evidently, the party was large enough to demand live music.

Brayden—but I shouldn't think of him as Brayden now, I should think of him as my master—helped me out of the truck. My feet landed hard on the ground, but I kept my balance.

“Strip.” His voice sounded loud in the utter darkness of my hood.

“Yes, sir.” I assumed we'd parked somewhere along filthy town's two-block strip. Were there other men stripping naked all around me? The hair on the back of my arms stood up as I pulled off my shirt, stretching the neck quite a lot to get it over the hood, but I didn't necessarily sense anyone there on the street other than me and Brayden.

Maybe they were already inside.

“I haven't got all night,” he said.

Yes, you do, I thought. But I knew better than to say so. My fingers flew over my shoelaces and zippers, and I toed out of my shoes, then pulled off jeans, socks, briefs. It was a pleasant evening in early summer. Mosquito weather at a lower elevation, but not here. Little breezes kissed my skin as I bared it to the night. Was there a moon? Did my pale skin glow in the darkness? I wasn't sure.

I'd need to become a better observer if I was going to keep up with a man like Brayden Brent.

My bare feet squirmed across the rough boards of the old-fashioned wooden sidewalk. Rough, but arty rough. No chance of catching a splinter. Once again, I had that unreal feeling of being caught in a stage set. I wouldn't be taking any pain by accident. Everything that happened tonight would be something intentional, something crafted for the devious pleasure of my master.

Everything would be scripted.

It shouldn't be a sexy thought that sent shivers down my spine. Or should it?

I guessed we'd parked right outside the building I'd identified last time as the saloon—a guess confirmed when I heard the creak of the swinging doors.

Master slipped an arm around my waist and guided me in the right direction, although I could have figured it out from following my ears and my sense of smell.

“Who's here?” I asked.

“They don't know who you are, and you don't know who they are,” he said.

“Sorry, sir. I meant, how many people are here?”

“I leave it to you as an exercise to figure that out.”

Kinky bastard. The more I strained to hear, the more aware I was of the slight muffle effect created by the leather hood over my ears. That early, awkward feeling grew stronger. Perhaps no one else had arrived other than the staff.

He led me to the counter, and I backed into, then sat down, on a stool covered in soft kidskin leather.

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