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.

"My name's John and I'm an alcoholic. My current drug of choice and distraction is work and currently unavailable. I am about to crawl out of my skin and being soundly beaten sounds pretty fantastic. If you're not interested in that I'll take company and distraction." Pause. Speaking of company and distraction.... "Wanna learn to waltz? Foxtrot? Tango? Yodel? Go climb a mountain? I'm really, really easy."

That John was easy was not news. Neither was the blurt of what was probably TMI to whoever it was who happened to be in the path of that particular outburst.

John opened the door for Beth, which of course got her an enthusiastic greeting from Jack. He gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek and then went and flopped back on his couch, legs dangling over one arm and head about ... a quarter of the way to the other side, actually. "Hey, sunshine. Come sit down and tell me how you're doing."

darling, can I see 
you sometime soon
please? love Beth
xx

Lin hadn't called in advance - just taking a chance that John might be in. He pulled the truck up in John's driveway, unannounced, slid out of the cab with his guitar slung over his shoulder, went to the door, knocked a sharp rhythm on the wood, and waited to see if John was there.

Mid used to like days off.

By now he hated them when they were weekdays, because Paul was at work and much as he was tempted to head over at lunchtime and offer a surprise fuck... He wasn't going to.

He'd taken Jenny running, he'd done paperwork, he'd worked out, but he didn't even feel like going to the shooting range and instead, he'd left Jenny at home and made it to the club. At the same time as one other person, who he greeted with a simple nod.

"Tell me you're not here for a scene," he said as he opened the door for them to walk in first, "because I could use some company."

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.

I'M NOT PREGNANT!

Updated checklist back behind the front desk, Iain had gone through to sit in a lounge with a book, a drink and his iPod. Buried in the story, it took a while before he realised someone else was standing nearby. He looked up startled, pulling the earplugs from his ears. "Sorry, did you say something? I had these things in, I didn't catch you."

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.

Mid was early. By a lot. He was earlier than he'd planned on being to set up the scene. Not that it needed much of a set-up at all.

So by the time John arrived, he was leafing through a magazine he could give a fuck about. But mostly in a placid mood, which was as good a mood as most people here had ever seen him in.

David plopped his bony arse down on the couch beside John, handed him a bottle of water, and asked warmly, "How's Jack?"

It had been a long couple of weeks, and John was more ready to get the cage off.

It hadn't been as long, uncomfortable, or taxing as he'd expected it to be though, even toward the end. Oh, his cock was aching and he was looking forward to an orgasm, but the break from sex had been good for him. It had been a really, really much needed break he used to start to make friends with his sex drive again.

Jack was with a friend for a few days. The kitchen was stocked and the house was clean from top to bottom. John was standing out on the porch, one shoulder against one of the supporting posts, while he waited on Sebastian. Nerves were there, right along with arousal and desire. He was pretty damn steady, though.

At least for the moment.

Best place in the world to start from.

Mid didn't do munches. He wasn't much one for parties of any kind, in fact, whether they centered around coffee and kink or alcohol and vanilla. He did like the quiet of the club when most members were at the coffee shop, though. A tradition he'd started three munches ago.

He went straight for the fridge and got himself a beer, turning around when he heard footsteps. "Figured everybody would be at the munch."

To: Sebastian Marrow
From: John Harper
Subject: Answer



Inspiration and security.

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.

Checklist done and behind the front desk, Dotty was taking the opportunity to take some time out in the common room . Not exactly blending into the background herself, dressed as she was in electric blue satin trousers and neon pink vest top, she was also none too subtly people-watching from behind her magazine.

"Hi there," she said to the next person to catch her eye, offering them a small wave and a grin.

Of course, there was no reason that John should have contacted him. No reason at all. And therefore no reason for Seb to be concerned that he hadn't heard from, or seen John in almost a week.

Never a man to play games, he scrolled through the contacts in his BlackBerry, found John's number, and called, leaning back in his chair to catch the late afternoon sunbeam slanting through his office window.

Memorial Day weekend meant that most people had three days off and intended to spend it either in sloth or trying to cross off as many things as they could from their "to do" list. The club was prepared for both cases.

They'd cleaned and restocked all the rooms, put up some new decorations and made sure everything was bright and shiny.

They'd also stocked up on burgers, dogs, and other picnic essentials and put grills and tables in the back parking lot. There was a threat of rain but if that happened, everything could be hauled indoors to one of the fire-safe play rooms. (Of course, that hadn't stopped some wit from putting an "in case of fire" sign on the inflatable kiddie pool.)

The main lounge had tables stocked with drinks and finger foods for those who didn't do meat or simply weren't the picnic type. Friday afternoon rolled around and everything was set.

John was, not to put too fine a point on it, drunk off his ass. He also reeked of sex -- a complicated mix of come, latex and lube.

He'd walked away from his conversation with Went with the vague idea that if he was going to be called a whore, and treated like one, he may as well act like one. There was a wild sort of desperation that fueled his actions. The need to find *something* to grab onto and pull himself back to center. Sex and alcohol and pain and a frenzy of activity that hadn't -- couldn't -- make him actually believe that he was more than fury and sound. Couldn't make him feel like a person instead of figment of someone else's imagination, brought to life just to bleed out on the stage of an empty house.

He *hurt*. He'd hit the breaking point, and he hadn't just broken, he'd shattered into a thousand sharp edged pieces. It was dramatic, it was melodramatic, but it was John. He felt with his whole heart, and he'd made a life of his drama.

He ended up on his porch at 3 a.m. Jack was barking inside but otherwise the house was dark and silent and he could not make himself go in. Besides, his keys were apparently not in his pants. At least he still had his pants, aand his phone The first number that popped up was James', so he called it -- just hit send. "I need you to help me break into my house. I lost my keys."

Then he hung up again, buried his face in his arms and waited on either James to come or the sun to rise.