Safe and Sane

The club had been transformed. The main room was no longer recognizable as a lounge; it had been made over with mood lighting and subtle decorations. On one end there was a huge buffet, the bar was open and tended. There was even room for dancing on a small wooden floor that had been laid down on the opposite end of the room. Scattered about were bowls of candy of all kinds.

One of the smaller lounges hosted traditional party games -- bobbing for apples, donuts on a string, even a table set up for carving small gourds and pumpkins. A few of the private play rooms on the main level had also been opened, set up for groups or exhibitionism, but as in previous year that wasn't the focus of the night. And, in case anyone had forgotten a costume or hadn't been able to find one, the smallest public lounge was being used as sort of a large wardrobe.

A large poster in the hallway announced the categories for the costume contest: scariest, funniest, the most creative, best couple or group, and -- of course -- the sexiest.

He was prompt to meet Lia at their arranged time, didn't like to be late if it could be avoided. Parking up outside Lia's place, he locked the car behind him with a beep from the remote before making his way to her door. Despite having been up since 6am, he'd drunk enough coffee to look quite alert and nipping home to get changed meant he was wearing a far sharper suit than the now-rumpled one he'd worn to work. Pressing her bell, he slipped his keys into his pocket, nodding along to a tune beating in his head.

From: adrianchapiro@sunsurfandsnow.com
To: 'Lia Wilson'
Subject: You.

Lia,

It's definitely been too long. Work's been taking over and, well, all work and no play makes Ade a dull boy. I refuse to be dull. Fancy dinner, drinks, driving me to distraction?

Ade

Someone in the cafe definitely had a resource of obscure holidays. This Wednesday fell on National Aviation Day, and one of the members of staff had obviously decided it was a good idea to mark it, but hadn't been quite sure how. Several model airplanes sat on top the counter and were suspended from the ceiling, swaying gently in the draft from the AC vents, with no explanation at all.

The original opening of Strokes had been a relatively public affair, open to all. The expansion, opening the store downstairs, was more private. Considering the space available, it had to be - the store was considerably smaller than the cafe upstairs, and there were stricter age restrictions on access. An invitation had gone out to all members of the club, and Beth had also left the details with Danielle in case she was generous enough to invite any of her customers.

The cafe upstairs was still open, of course, and Beth had left Dotty in charge up there after a frenzy of baking to ensure that they'd have enough to feed everyone. Downstairs, Beth held sway.

Counters along the center of the room had glass tops to display various sex toys, and the shelves below held neatly stacked boxes of the same toys displayed above. Should anyone want a closer look - or feel - Beth had prudently kept two of each behind her counter for testing purposes, and a small curtained off area next to the counter for privacy while testing. On top of the counter was a display case holding jewellery and some of the more expensive collars and restraints.

Shelves against one wall held a small selection of books, cards, and novelties along with the more practical supplies - lubes, hygiene, condoms, dams, etc - and a small case on the opposite wall held the library selection, available for people to peruse at their leisure. Tacked on the door was a small poster politely detailing expected behaviour - D/s behavious was, of course, more than acceptable, but no public nudity and no actual sex was to be permitted, or she'd lose her license.

Candles lit the tables upstairs, low electrical lighting set the mood downstairs. Now all she needed was guests, and potential customers.

They'd arranged a time and a place and, as ever, Ade was early, sitting with his feet up, reading his newspaper in the suit he'd worn for a meeting that afternoon and been terribly, terribly glad to escape when it was finally called to a close. Wound up now, in need of finding a way to relieve the tension and, really, they couldn't have scheduled this better on that count.

Dotty was in a headstand. Her hair pooled around her on the floor, and she was resting up on her elbows, perfectly posed like it was the most natural thing to do in the lounge area.

Well, it was one way of trying to cure hiccups.

Juneteenth was still a couple days away, but the cafe had embraced the notion wholeheartedly. A barbecue was running among the tables out front, the closest thing they had to a garden, and pitchers of non-alcoholic fruit cocktails available at the counter as an alternative to coffee. Bowls of fruit salad sat alongside the sandwiches in the chiller cabinet.

Wednesday again, and another munch night. The cafe was increasingly quiet as layoffs took effect on household finances, and the board behind the counter was scattered with offers.

Quite why anyone would want to buy two coffees and get a third free, or whether it was a good idea for the majority of munch attendees, was anyone's guess.

He probably looked utterly unapproachable right now, despite the fact he was actually longing for some company, a distraction, something a damn sight more fun than the conversation he was having. Still, having his phone jammed against his ear wasn't helping, nor was the exasperated tone of voice someone would pick up even if they didn't hear what he was saying.

"Sylvie... No, just listen for a second. Your mental image of me is at least fifteen years out of date. I'm asking for one fuckin' week in the summer, not a kidney." A long pause, a sigh and he dragged a hand through his hair. "No. No. That was a year ago, she was twenty-eight and had no desire to be his new mommy. Jesus Christ, 'Vie, it's like talking to a brick wall... Hello? Hello?" Swearing under his breath, he shoved his phone back in his pocket; times like this made him think taking up drinking again was one hell of an idea.

He glanced up to notice someone else in the room and threw his hands in the air. "Please, for the love of all things holy, give me some sane conversation before I toss myself out a window," he pleaded.

Jason lit another cigarette and ran a hand through hair that was damp from the shower he'd taken when he'd gotten to the club, and a riotous mess from the wind that swirled through the courtyard. Stripped to the waist, the patch of sun to which he'd laid claim beat down on skin as he crossed his legs underneath him and went back to work soldering thick, richly colored pieces of glass together. The window would replace one broken years earlier in one of the scene rooms, found by chance and removed piece by piece so he could restore it to order.

Lost and content, his mind drifted as he lost himself to the task, oblivious to much else until a shadow fell over his work and he glanced up, squinting to see more than a silhouette outlined by sunlight.

"Am I in your way?"