Johnny looks…troubled. Of course, he also looks gorgeous, the man is built like a tank and doesn’t have an ounce of fat on him, but there’s definitely something in his eyes that doesn’t look quite right. As I drive home after my visit to The Vault, I wonder if he was actually joking about working eighty hours a week or if that’s just a symptom of a deeper problem.

I chuckle to myself as I realize what I’m doing. As usual, I’m psychoanalyzing other people as if I know what the hell I’m talking about. I can’t even verbalize my own issues, so I don’t know why I think I can diagnose other people’s.

But that doesn’t stop me from trying.

And right now, I’m curious about Johnny Miller, Chief Security Officer at The Vault. Seeing him on my way out was a pleasant surprise. One I truly wasn’t expecting. Usually when I leave, I don’t even notice whoever’s sitting at desk as I duck my head and try to get out of there as soon as possible. Not because I’m ashamed of what I do at The Vault, but I’m definitely not proud of it.

Tonight, my session was...fine. Kelly, the guy I rented for the evening, is a sweet kid. With red hair and eyes that match his name, I always enjoy spending time with him. Even though I know he’s an outgoing and confident kid in general, as soon as I walk into his room for a session, he falls to his knees in submission, handing me the reins to control him as I see fit.

Which is exactly what I pay him to do.

I wouldn’t call myself a Dom, but I don’t have another word to describe my proclivity. I guess there’s just something inside me that likes to be in control. I like to tell people what to do and push them past the limits they normally set for themselves. Probably because it’s the exact opposite of what my life is normally like. Day in and day out, I smile and nod, listening to others and generally being a people pleaser.

That’s the man I was raised to be, and the only man I dare to show in public.

But every month or so, I need a visit to The Vault. It’s my only safe space to exercise control over another man and to finally be heard. Seen. Appreciated.

The cul-du-sac I live on is in a gated neighborhood and few people are on the streets at this hour. As I turn onto my street, a moving van passes by, cutting the corner and almost sideswiping my new car. I’m tempted to flip them off but that’s not my style. At least not outside of The Vault.

I’m not even in my garage when I notice something’s wrong. Very wrong. The window on the side door that leads to my kitchen is shattered and Nitro, my enormous indoor cat, is sitting on the back porch with a pissed off look on his face.

I put the car in park and hop out, my phone already in my hand. “What are you doing out here, bud?” I lift him up and step over the broken glass. “I think we’re gonna need reinforcements, huh?”

As I dial 9-1-1, I walk inside my kitchen and flip on the light switch. Nothing. No power.

“Las Vegas Metro emergency dispatch. What is your emergency?”

I walk around the back of the house to the breaker box. “My house was broken into. I’m not sure what it looks like inside because my power’s out. But I think I’ve been robbed.”

“What’s your address, sir?” The woman’s voice is robotic and oddly soothing.

“9200 Coast Line Road.” The door to my breaker box is open, which means I might just be able to switch the power back on. “Hold on a second. I’m to try to turn my power back on.”

I slip my phone into my pocket and put Nitro on the ground. If I get shocked, no reason he needs to go down with me. Without the glow from my phone, I can hardly see what I’m doing. But I’m familiar enough with layout to know that the switch to the lights and sockets is wrong. With a simple flip of the switch, my patio lights and the kitchen door lights turn on.

I pick up the cat first then retrieve my phone. “Got the power back on. I’m going inside.”

“A marked car is en route, sir. If you can please wait outside, the officers will escort you into the house.”

I take a deep breath, annoyed that I’m going to obey this stranger just because she asked me to. Sometimes I hate being a fucking rule follower. “Yes, ma’am. How long will it take for someone to arrive?”

Just as the words leave my mouth, I hear a siren and see the flash of blue and red lights coming down into the valley from the main gate. “Never mind. I think they’re almost here.”

“I can stay on the phone with you until someone arrives.”

“Thank you but I think I’ll be okay.” I walk out to the end of my driveway as the first car comes into view. “They’re pulling up now.”

“Okay. Have a nice evening.”

I almost laugh at the canned goodbye. It seems more than a little insensitive to wish people a good evening when they’re in some form of emergency or another. But on the other hand, I guess there isn’t really anything more appropriate to say. Maybe something along the lines of “hope the rest of your night is less fucked than it has been so far.”

Once the officers take my contact information and basic statement of what I know so far, they do a sweep of my house to ensure no one is inside before finally letting me in. Fortunately, the broken glass on the porch is the worst of the damage. Whoever broke in was a considerate thief and left the place nice and uncluttered of things like my TV, computers, and every painting in the house they thought could be worth something.

Sadly, a few were worth a lot.

And as pathetic as it sounds, I’m just glad they didn’t feel the need to destroy the rest of my house in their pursuit of treasures. The biggest losses were in my office. My desktop computer, my laptop, and my 21:9 curved monitor that I’ve only had for a few months but already love more than anything else in my house—all gone.

My computers are backed up daily, so I won’t lose much in the way of data. But it still pisses the fuck out of me that someone came into my home and took what was mine. Just the hassle of inventorying everything that was stolen, fixing my back door, and buying replacements items that need to be setup and programmed makes me think I’ll be back at The Vault for a reprieve way sooner than I expected when I left there. Who knows, maybe I’ll be back there tomorrow.

It takes another two hours before the police clear out of my house and I can finally take a shower and go to bed. My first appointment in the morning isn’t until ten, but it’s after midnight now and I’m so wired, it’ll probably be a few hours before I can even fall asleep. Trudging into my closet, I step out of my shoes and start to get undressed. As I hang up my jacket, I see something poking out of the pocket.

Johnny’s business card. The edges have become a bit worn from being in my pocket. I hold it in my fingers and read the words several times before slipping the card inside my wallet. The irony of seeing him tonight and putting his card in my pocket at the exact moment I was robbed is not lost on me. In fact, if I had the balls to be the man I truly am on the inside—on the outside—I’d dial his number right now and ask for a referral to a better security system. The system I have now is wired to the phone lines and the phone line was cut, so the alarm company wasn’t alerted. No one was. And someone like Johnny would probably know how stupid it is to rely on an antiquated system like that.

But someone like me doesn’t call someone like Johnny to make house calls. After I replace my stuff, I’ll look into a new security system. Probably.