I filled the others in on my latest session with D the next afternoon. We were all off for the rest of the week for the holiday and were celebrating in my living room with a Law & Order: SVU marathon.
I didn’t typically give them hard-core details about my sessions, but Gould cracked some Vicks joke, and the others wrestled the story out of me.
“You know Vicks isn’t for internal use,” Miles said disapprovingly.
“Yes, Miles, I know technically it’s not for internal use, but we used it internally, and the world didn’t end. Also, the cold I was getting is completely gone.”
Miles grumbled. “Well, stick to hot sauce or ginger in the future if you’re figging.”
Kamen strummed his guitar, coming up with the chords for “Killing Me Softly.”
“Figgin me softly with hot sauce,” he sang over the sounds of justice being served. “figging me so-oftly, with hot sauce.”
“Buddy . . .” I warned.
“Filling my whole ass with his burn . . .”
I turned to Gould. “Do you believe this is happening?”
He raised his brows. “Is there anything you wouldn’t believe happened in this house?”
“No,” I admitted.
I flipped through our unread messages on the Subs Club site on my phone. I had a message from a sub I knew named Josh who proposed putting the Disciplinarian’s name up on the review blog.
I hadn’t given much thought recently to the prospect of rating D. Now that he and I were making progress as play partners and as—well, friends—I wasn’t quite so keen on offering him up for review. For once in my life, I wanted to keep my opinions private. And I didn’t want to see reviews from fawning former boys of his, or from anyone who had something negative to say about him.
Without thinking too hard about it, I deleted Josh’s message. Then I deleted it from the Trash, so the others would never see it.
Miles checked his phone. “I might head out. I’ve got some stuff to take care of.”
“Where have you been sneaking off to lately?” I asked. It wasn’t the first time over the past couple of weeks that Miles had bailed while we were hanging out.
“Nowhere. I’ve just been busy with . . . work.”
“Why did you hesitate before ‘work’?”
“Heavens, Dave. It’s not important. I’ll see you all on Black Friday.”
“Wait,” I said as Miles stood. “I have a Subs Club thing.”
He waited. “Yes?”
“Um.” I glanced at the TV. Was momentarily distracted by the beauty of Benson’s hair. I tore my gaze away. “I know I said I was going to rate the Disciplinarian when I was done with the six weeks.”
No one spoke. Miles gave me a go on look.
“And . . . what if . . . I don’t want that?”
“You don’t want to rate him?” Miles repeated.
“That’s right, I’m not going to rate him!” I announced, as the end credits music played behind me. “I don’t care what you all say. I like him, and I think I was wrong about him being an asshole. He’s a good dom and I don’t want to put him on the blog. I want him to just be mine.” I paused. “And I invited him to Black Friday: The Revenge. So deal with it!”
I glanced around, waiting for the protests to begin.
“Sweet,” Kamen said.
Miles cocked his head. “Yes, Dave, that’s splendid.”
“Oh.” I looked at each of them. “Wow. That was easy. Okay, Miles, you can go.” I waved him away.
“Waaaaiiit a minute.” Kamen muted the TV. “We get to meet D?”
“Yes. Just be normal,” I warned. “All of you. For the love of God. Please. For one evening.”
“Us?” Kamen asked innocently.
“Yeah, you think we need to be told to be normal?” Gould echoed Kamen’s mock incredulity.
Miles widened his eyes. “Are you embarrassed by us?”
Kamen nodded. “Yeah. You don’t want us to be ourselves?”
I sighed. “You can be yourselves, just . . . maybe a less intense version of yourselves. Remember that he’s . . .” I took a deep breath. “He’s very old fashioned. Like, nineteen-tens old fashioned.”
Kamen’s jaw dropped. “Does he ride a horse?”
I thought about the Friesian picture. “He would if he could.”
“Can we tell him about the time you tried to pee in a bottle on our road trip to Boston and instead you peed on the car seat?” Gould asked.
“No!”
Kamen leaned off the couch. “Yeah, should we tell him about the Log Blog and how it was your idea?”
“Kamen!”
Miles grinned. “Or about the time you tried to make ribs in the slow cooker and left it on overnight and the barbeque sauce turned into a solidified crystalline substance at the bottom of the pan and we had to use a paint scraper to get it out?”
“Classic Dave!” Kamen agreed.
I glared at them. “You guys. No embarrassing stories about me. And do not mention the Subs Club.”
Miles’s grin slipped. “Have you not told him?”
“Of course not,” I said defensively.
“Hmm.”
“Don’t ‘hmm’ me, Miles. He doesn’t need to know everything I do. And even if he did know, it wouldn’t be a big deal.”
Silence.
Gould finally shrugged. “Well, I’m looking forward to meeting him.”
“He’ll love you guys. Just accept that he’s weird, and try not to judge him.”
Kamen saluted. “We shall make you proud, David.”
Gould snickered. “Yeah, we already love your weird boyfriend.”
“He is not my boyfriend!”
“Really?” Kamen stared skeptically at me. “You invited him to Black Friday: The Revenge.”
“Yeah.” Gould nodded. “It kinda sounds like you want to marry him.”
Miles folded his arms. “Mmm. I have a great idea for a theme wedding.”
“You guys are going to be murdered,” I informed them. “Legit murdered. I hope you like being murdered, because that’s what’s going to happen to you.”
Miles sat back down. “Dave. I think this is really good. I’m happy for you.”
“Yeah, dude.” Kamen slid his hand palm up across the couch for a low five.
I smiled and fived him. “Aw. You guys.”
Miles glanced at the others, then fixed his gaze on me. “We’ve been worried about you since Hal.”
“You’ve been worried about me?” I looked at Gould, who didn’t say anything.
“I’ve been worried about all of you,” I informed them.
“You’ve been, like, kind of . . . different,” Kamen said. “Not as relaxed.”
No one seemed to know what to say then, so Kamen unmuted the TV and we watched the teaser of the next Law & Order episode, but I couldn’t focus on the murdered shopkeeper.
“Do you think we’re like the sisterhood of the traveling pants?” I asked finally.
“Sort of.” Gould turned from the TV. “Except we don’t have a pair of pants that fits us all.”
“I’ve never actually read that book. Is that what it’s about?”
“Uh, yeah,” Kamen said. “The pants are magic and the girls all look hot in them.”
“Huh. I always assumed ‘pants’ was like a metaphor or something.”
“For what?” Miles asked.
“I dunno, like a friendship that fit them all perfectly, or whatever.”
“It’s totally symbolic,” Kamen agreed.
I glanced at him. “Have you read it, buddy?”
“I’ve seen the movie.”
“Well, at any rate . . . I’m glad I have all of you.” I paused. “But if you screw up this Black Friday dinner for me, you will wish you were in a PG movie about magic pants instead of trapped inside the nightmare I will unleash on you. Got it?”
“We love you too, David,” Miles said.
Onscreen, the theme music started.