Safe and Sane

Once Ryan and Ven were both feeling more settled and had left the scening room, Ryan bid Ven farewell, and had decided to stay at the club for a while. Maybe gather himself together, maybe use one of the free scening rooms for some yoga. First, though, he needed some more water, and headed out to the common room to get some, still barefoot.

He cracked the bottle open, and noticed a young man sitting alone, and approached slowly. "D'you mind some company for a while?"

He was dressed slightly more formally than he usually would, in the cut of the trousers at least, but the shirt was one of his regular ones, when he opened the door after Jason rang the bell. "Darling," he greeted the younger man, "come in."

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.

The soft scratch of a matchstick against its case added a hint of sulfur soon faded, and Gale's smile widened into something all together wicked. How appropriate, the smell of burning, of hell itself seemed, and how quickly it disappeared, a whisper, no more, overcome by the clean scent of the dozens of beeswax candles he lit one by one, half charred bits of wood warm in his pocket as he blew a match out only to light another.

The stained glass windows shown despite the unseen stars that hung heavy in the sky, jeweled tones glowing in the light of the candles as the soft swell of light grew to fill the small space made smaller with the addition of heavy curtains set to frame the confessional.

Or Gale's version of the same, anyway.

The last match extinguished, he added it to the rest in his pocket, the lot stirred by long fingers as he turned to give the room one last look. Perfect. Careful not to transfer soot onto the pristine band of white at his throat, Gale straightened his jacket and stepped into his side of the confessional and closed the door behind him, the other door - Jason's door left open, waiting. That the confessional differed from any of its like found in more hallowed places was a given, but its purpose... not so much.

Everyone paid for their sins, in the end. Some simply paid sin for sin.

At the club early, Gale smiled to find the common room fairly crowded and crossed to the bar to fix himself a drink. Certain Jason wasn't to be found among the blend of familiar and unfamiliar faces, he carried a cup of coffee to a couch that was neither obvious nor apart from the rest and sank down to enjoy the wait, gaze wandering toward the door from time to time.

To: Jason Blevins
From: Gale Kelton
Re: There is no way that this email will come off as anything but a come on...

But as you're reading it, maybe that's not a bad thing.
I pulled your list at the club, and wondered if you would like to get together, perhaps at munch or at the club if your schedule permits.

I think we could enjoy each other.

And what do you know, it was a blatant come on.

My list is attached.

Gale

Another Wednesday, another munch night. Evenings were beginning to draw in, with fall nipping at the air, temperatures beginning to drop as soon as the sun had sunk below the horizon. The cafe had responded with a range of spiced coffees, hot soup, and cookies and muffins still warm from the oven.

And, of course, the infamous chili spiced hot chocolate.

At last. The final element of Beth's venture was ready to open, the gallery ready to her satisfaction and Jason's, and displaying (after a certain amount of discussion) a selection of pieces created by each of the artists who would later be holding their own show in the gallery.

The cafe was brightly lit against the dull weather outside, and the store was still open downstairs, but the focus for today was on the gallery, the seating area at one end, and the works on display (and sale) there.

Another week, another Wednesday, another buy-one-get-one-free offer on all hot drinks from the cafe. Coming up to the full moon, the weather was uniformly dull, cloudy, and warm, long days with no rain, long nights too warm to really sleep, tempers were beginning to fray among the staff.

It was mid-afternoon by the time Jason woke up enough to even consider going out. He'd picked up a few extra shifts over the past week and was looking forward to a few days off. There wasn't a lot that needed to be done, thanks to twenty-four hour grocery stores, so when he decided to get out of the apartment, he headed over to the club.

He was surprised when he walked in and heard music. Grinning, he headed to the common room. "Hey," he said, smiling to the guy on the guitar. Not Carl, but he could still appreciate it. "I'm grabbing something to drink. Get you anything?"

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.

Stuart was napping on a couch.

Nobody'd been in the main area when he got to the club and, well. He hadn't had much sleep last night. He came to when he heard somebody walk in, and stretched leisurely, sitting up a little.

"Would you be a dear and grab me a bottle of water from the fridge while you're up?" he asked whoever was coming in, not exactly liking the prospect of standing up and walking even the short distance to the fridge. Not right now.

The weather seemed to be doing its best to make up for the week before, and in response, the doors to the cafe were firmly closed to keep the heat out, and the airconditioning in. At least, until the aircon broke down, at which point doors were propped open, fans distributed around the cafe, and extra ice stockpiled behind the counter.

One member of staff was detailed to stand by with a mop to wipe up any wet floors resulting from people throwing ice at each other.

Jason had taken over one of the couches. Or, more importantly, the coffee table in front of it. His checklist was spread over it, not quite half filled out, and a cup of coffee at his elbow.

"I think this thing is going to eat me," he said aloud, chewing on his pen. "And not in the happy fun way, either."

Another Wednesday, nearly August, and thunderstorms outside. Power held - so far - but the cafe was taking no chances. Which meant that instead of lights on inside, each table was lit by a couple of tealights safely protected in the bottom of water glasses, giving the whole place an unusually intimate atmosphere.

Hot drinks would be on offer as long as the power held out, and the owner and staff appeared to be praying for that between each order.

Saturday night, and the club was open to all members. None of the rooms were reserved, for that one night. Light food and drinks were laid out in the common room, the demo rooms were set up with small stage areas free for anyone's use, and the lounges were set aside, dim lights and blankets available for anyone who needed an escape.

Two of the larger rooms had been opened together to form a dance floor, and the garden was open to make the most of the light remaining as the long summer evening faded to darkness.