Safe and Sane

Continued from here:

Jay stopped stock still, his breath shaky for a moment until the tension of stopping had passed.

Nick had, against his better judgment, picked up one of the extra shifts Ruth had been pressing him to do, which left him no time to shower at the end of his shift before getting straight into the car to drive to Denver to meet Jay. Traffic was kind, though, and gave him half an hour before Jay's flight was due to land, plus the by-now-standard twenty minutes delay, and he'd taken advantage of the showers at the airport, which meant that by the time he was standing by arrivals watching the passengers from Jay's flight come through customs, bleary eyed and dragging various bits of luggage, he was clean, with wet hair, mostly awake, and aching to see Jay again.

A massage earlier in the day had done wonders to relax muscles that ached from working on a new bike throughout the night, and a long steam after had taken care of any residual tension so that Gale entered the club with his mind clear of anything save the afternoon ahead.

The room reserved well in advance, he entered without knocking to change clothes, shedding one skin for another. Fingertips nudged silver, the blade of the straight razor aligned perfectly with the edge of the table, the blade freshly sharpened to a keen edge. A glance enough to tell the advance preparations were done, all that was lacking his partner, and he wandered into the common room in his bare feet to grab a drink and find a couch, relaxing as he waited for Jay.

New chat session initiated: trustmeimnick to nicksslut

trustmeimnick: Jay?
trustmeimnick: Are you there?
trustmeimnick: can't trust this damn status.

Simon had got his ass moving as soon as he'd got the call. He'd shot a text to Riley to let him know where he was going, and headed out to meet Jay and Nick. Not that he'd ever met Jay before, but there were favours you did for friends, and he'd been looking forward to meeting Jay immensely as it was.

He stepped into the cafe he'd been asked to pick Jay up from and looked around for him.

The flight to the UK, and to Leeds had been rough.

Light and love and heart-deep music in his very being, in his every breath he had.

Gale woke with Oscar's foot planted under his jaw and drool on his ankle, and laying there, blinking at the late morning sun that streamed through the windows, he swore vengeance on the bastards who invented pixie stix and all things crack-like and sugary. Not that he hadn't loved it at the time, in the thick of things, though the part where Max nearly violated him with a lightsaber had been a touch and go moment.

Max. Shit.

Dislodging Oscar's foot, Gale sat up enough to see the tangle of sleeping bags on the floor in front of the television that still crackled, picture static and grey where the dvd player had turned itself off. Empty save for a loudly snorting Daisy, he cursed and rolled to get out of bed only to find two legs sticking out from under the bed, and okay, check. Two boys, a dog and if God truly existed, there would be a nun bearing coffee in the kitchen.

Dragging a comatose Max from under the bed, he dumped him next to Oscar and tucked them both in and then dragged a robe off the chair next to the door and stumbled to the kitchen where Matilda-Atilla was ensconced with his Sunday paper, a cup of tea and a snort that spoke volumes as she gestured toward the coffee pot and went back to the Sport section.

Forgoing a mug, he drank straight from the pot, staring blindly out the back porch until the caffeine kicked in enough to spur him to action. That being surrounded by candy addled children climbing the walls had reminded him of Jay wasn't something he'd share, but it had and so scrolling through his phone, he found the number and punched the call button, lighting up a cigarette as he stepped outside into the cold morning.

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.

Hey hun. How's ur schedule? You free to meet up anytime today? Jx

cont here: http://asylums.insanejournal.com/safeandsane/317397.html

Nothing to do. Technically, James was working. Practically, he'd set all the damn processes going and nothing was going to report back for six hours, which left him restless, and prowling the common room at the club. No one he knew.

One man. Young man, bent over a pad of manuscript paper. James paused, tilted his head, and frowned slightly, reading over the man's shoulder. "You really mean E sharp? Weird fucking key signature."

Oh, Lord, it hurt to move, and it was glorious. A few words with Mona and the woman was on her way, leaving Stuart to put his trousers on, gather his things and walk out of the room they'd used and to the common area. He wouldn't be heading home just yet, give himself some time to get used to the lovely pain across his back before he drove back, the very reason why he was staying barechested, faint cuts, bruises and other marks blatant on his back.

He dropped his bag and shirt on the end of a couch, shoes on the floor beside it. "Can I get you anything while I'm up?" he asked the person sitting on it, heading to the fridge to grab some water for himself.

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.

Jay walked into the house, shedding keys and his shirt as he went, watching his feet as the cats nearly tripped him up in their enthusiatic greeting. "That was a fun evening, wasn't it?" he said, talking back over his shoulder towards Nick as he came in. "There was a good turnout, I reckon Beth was pleased."

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.

from here

"Jay," Nick warned, and stood back to strip out of his clothing, then paused. "Damn. The cats. Five minutes, I'll get them fed and settled. You, stay still, and keep your hands folded behind your head."

He hated to leave Jay, but the cats really did need settling for the night, and it was better to do it now than later.

Jay moved his hands behind his head slowly. "I'll try," he murmured, but he couldn't resist a wink in Nick's direction.

"You will," Nick said firmly, and went to sort the cats out.

Give Jay his due, he only moved a little, and was just scratching his nose with one hand when Nick came back into the room. He put his hand speedily back behind his head, hoping that Nick hadn't seen him.

Nick had seen. Nick had very definitely seen, and stopped in the doorway, eyes steady on Jay.

"I didn't move," Jay protested. "Well, I did, I had a itchy nose, but only that. Oh and a bit of an itch on my back, but *only* that too."

"Jay," Nick said sternly. "I didn't bind you, I trusted you. And you moved. Take the ring off."

Jay was sprawled on the floor of the living room dressed in only worn grey sweatpants. Scattered across a great deal of the floor were manuscripts, textbooks and lecture notes. Iggy the iguana was stretched out on the back of the couch, bathing in a warm patch, much to the cats chagrin. Jay's hair was held back by a pen and his compilation of indie 'classics' was blasting loud from the stereo.

Jay only belatedly caught the sounds of Nick coming home, haring it through the house to barrel nearly full force into him. "Nick! Nick! Guess what?! Guess. Go on!"

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.

Paul had been doing some investigation and serious research - not that he hadn't before he joined the club, but it seemed a lot less like theory with the date with Mid fixed - and discovered the cafe. It wasn't what he expected, bright and light and a cheery girl behind the counter to take his coffee order, but there were a few things that gave it away as not quite the standard street cafe. The door at the back with the age restriction clearly printed on it was one. The books scattered about and the prints on the walls were more blatant, and he was standing, head tilted to try to decipher exactly how many people were in one particular print, when he took a half step back, stopped himself, and automatically reached out to stop the person behind him from tripping. "Shit, sorry, should've looked, are you okay?"