3
Evan
I greet one of my regulars at the coffee shop before making her usual order—a cappuccino and a cheese bagel.
There are three people in line, so my coworker Bradley steps up to help me while I start preparing orders.
An intense burning sensation swirls in my chest as my anxiety creeps up on me.
It’s not as bad as it was in the beginning, when I first started working at the Feisty Fox Coffeehouse.
Back then, I was scared as fuck that I wouldn’t figure this shit out. Before I started working here, I never understood anything about making lattes, mochas, or cappuccinos. I’d drink them, but that was about it.
I didn’t need a job right away after my breakup with Peter, as I still had some modeling money from an ad campaign I’d done right before I found out what an ass Peter really was. But my therapist thought it’d be good for me to get out since I’m prone to depression, and spending all day in a condo by myself wasn’t exactly doing me any favors in that department.
Peter never had an issue with me spending my days on my own, of course. If anything, he encouraged it. And now I know why. It made it easier for him to manipulate me…to feed me his lies without ever encountering someone who might make me question them.
Fortunately, I don’t struggle with it the way I used to. While I was with Peter, I was working to get it under control, trying out different meds and seeing a therapist. But since I met Frankie, he’s been there whenever I’ve needed a friend. He’s driven me to my therapy appointments and picked up my meds for me when I’ve needed a refill. And I know every time he asks me how my day is that he’s really checking in on me…making sure that I’m all right.
I’m not sure he can ever know how much those little things mean to me. Just knowing he cares.
As the day comes to an end, Derek swings by.
“Hey, man,” he says, approaching the counter. He’s clearly cut his hair, keeping his blond bangs a little longer than usual. He wears a tight T-shirt that is so well-fitting that he might as well not be wearing a shirt at all. Reminds me of something I’d wear.
“I’m taking you to the leather shop today to pick out some harnesses for that leather party at the end of the month,” he continues, “and I want extra cream all up in my latte—if you know what I mean.”
I’d laugh if I wasn’t so surprised about his comment about the leather shop. “Did we say today?”
I slide my hand between my apron and jeans and pull out my phone to check my schedule, which I’d be lost without.
“You’re not going to find it in there,” he says. “I didn’t tell you about this excursion. I’m abducting you, and we’re going whether you want to or not. I know for a fact that Frankie is working with Jackson this evening, so you’re all out of excuses.”
I chuckle. He knows me pretty well.
He waits at a table for me to finish my shift, and then we head over to the leather shop. Neither of us has cars, so we Uber to the Otterly Fantastic Leather shop, which is attached to the main leather club in town.
Peter and I swung by here for stuff for parties a few times during our relationship.
The place is packed with leather and chains of varying lengths and sizes. Mannequins in harnesses, jackets, and pants are placed around the space and whips, collars, and paddles are proudly displayed across the walls. On the far end of the room, a magazine rack shows off a collection of naughty magazines with naked and near-naked bears and twinks, dressed in the sort of gear someone could purchase from a place like this.
I’m so out of my depth, it isn’t even funny.
Even just perusing some of the boxed toys along the way, I have to acknowledge I’ve only seen some of these things in porn. But for the most part, I feel like I need a guide to understand what half this shit is…or how I’d use it in the bedroom.
Behind the front register, beside a glass case with various locks and keys, a beefy guy in a leather vest and cap reads on a Kindle. He has a sleeve tat that I can’t really make out. There’s some kind of bird that appears to be wrestling in a patch of thorns.
He has an eyebrow piercing and wears a serious, stoic expression. This is not the kind of guy I would feel comfortable approaching in a bar.
As Derek leads us farther into the place, I feel my anxiety rushing to my chest again like it did earlier at work.
I take deep, steady breaths, the way I’ve learned to do in therapy over the years.
It’s just like my first day of work at the coffee shop. I was nervous and a little freaked out, but I made it through and now I don’t even get nervous on most days.
While I’m sitting here thinking this could set off a panic attack, Derek walks around the place like he works here. “Hey, Z,” he says.
The guy glances up from his Kindle and offers a warm smile as Derek fearlessly approaches him, me following in tow.
Derek sidles up beside the counter Z leans against, and they bump fists.
“How’s Jackson doing?” Z asks.
“He’s great. This is my friend, Evan, by the way. He’s a big ole bottom. You guys would get along great.”
Z’s gaze shifts to me, his smile expanding across his face.
Meanwhile, I’m sure I look like a cherry.
“Derek!” I say.
“I kid, I kid.” Derek wraps his arm around me. “I’m sure he tops too.” But as he speaks the words, he shakes his head, and I can’t help but laugh.
Derek manages to activate all my insecurities as well as tear them down all at once—something I know has been good for me too.
Z reaches over the counter, and I take his hand for a shake, his eyes narrowing. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
“Evan’s kind of a big deal,” Derek notes. “You probably recognize him ’cause he’s famous. Evan, do sexface.”
“I’m not doing that,” I say.
“Do…it…” he presses, so I submit, pursing my lips and arching my brows in my signature modeling expression.
“Oh, that looks much more familiar,” Z says with a smile.
“Yeah, he does a lot of modeling,” Derek says. “Mostly in underwear.”
“Did,” I emphasize. “I’m not doing that anymore.”
After working with my therapist, I realized that modeling was only adding to my depression and self-esteem issues, which was one of the reasons I decided I needed to look for a new sort of job…which led me to the coffeehouse.
“Well, it’s very nice meeting a celebrity, Evan,” Z says with a wink.
I feel so stupid about how intimidating he seemed when I first saw him, especially considering how friendly he’s being and how warm his smile is.
“Is there anything I can help either of you naughty little twinks with?” Z asks.
“Do you have any other harnesses than what’s on display? I need something a little extra small for the little guy. I know you keep all the good stuff for my people in the back.”
Z chuckles. “We just like seeing the twinks beg. I’ll go see what we’ve got.”
He heads through a door to the back, and as he does, I notice something on display by the door—a black puppy hood with blue across the snout, ears, and brow.
I noticed a similar one the few times Peter and I were here together.
But it’s moved from where it was before—I guess since they’ve redone the layout of the store a bit.
I feel my face warming like when Derek told Z I’m a “big ole bottom” because it reminds me of when Peter caught me checking it out and started making fun of me, telling me that I should go ahead and bark for him.
“Z’s a hot guy, right?” Derek asks. “He has a twin brother with that same tattoo. Oh, Z and I had some good times.”
“Wait. You’ve hooked up with him?”
“Oh, Evan,” he says, setting his hand on my shoulder. “You dear, sweet, innocent thing. You might be one of the few people in this world who I haven’t hooked up with. Now get over here, and let’s see if we can find you some pants.”
He guides me to a rack of leather pants.
“What’s your waist?” he asks. “Like fourteen?” He’s clearly mocking me. “What’s the ugliest pair I can find so you can make me look better by comparison?”
I enjoy Derek’s playfulness. When we first met, it was a little difficult for me to tell when he was joking and when he wasn’t, but after a while, I acclimated to his sense of humor and appreciated his jokes for what they were.
As I laugh, he adds, “Please. I still hold my own. Have you seen this ass?”
When we finish finding pants, Derek starts checking out the harnesses before he gets distracted by some handcuffs hanging from nails on the wall. “Oh, I totally need a new pair of cuffs.”
“What?”
He eyes me peculiarly. “A new pair of cuffs. Come on, Evan, don’t play like you’ve never messed around in some of these.”
I shake my head. “I’m not really into BDSM or anything.”
He rolls his eyes. “Oh, my sweet summer child. You don’t have to be into hard-core BDSM to have a little fun with toys. It can just be a fun time.”
“So you like, let Jackson cuff you to the bed or something?”
As much as I’m acting scandalized, the whole thing actually sounds kind of exciting.
“Are you telling me that Peter never cuffed you to the bed and took advantage of you?”
I shake my head.
“Oh my God! And you were upset about him cheating on you? This is so much worse.”
I chuckle, practically giggle, at his tease. “Shut up! You guys really do that?”
“Yeah. Jackson and I like to spice things up in the bedroom. We’ll bring some cuffs in…I have this little naval officer outfit I’ll wear around to get him going…and recently, we’ve been really playing around with this spanking thing.”
“Spanking?”
“Yeah, like I’ll do something bad, and then Daddy will need to punish me.”
“Like he’ll hit you?”
“Not to hurt me, Evan. He’s just doing it playfully. Like in porn. My ass will get a little red, but it’ll be gone the next day.”
“Letting someone spank you doesn’t seem a little weird?”
“Only if by ‘weird’ you mean ‘hot.’ And it’s not like he’s sitting there spanking me for ten minutes nonstop. That lasts for two seconds before he’s balls-deep in my ass, but you get my point.”
I glance around, kind of uneasy about the idea of someone having heard Derek say that out loud, something I do fairly frequently when I’m around him. But of course, it’s still just us in the shop.
Z returns with some harnesses that we try on, looking in the floor-length mirror on display until Derek finds, what he has determined, is the perfect harness for the party. As we’re checking out, I find my gaze returning to that puppy hood on display behind the register.
I don’t know why it’s still on my mind.
I’d seen a guy in one of these masks at a Flirt costume-themed party. He was having a blast, bouncing around, acting like a dog. He growled and got down on all fours…even chased his tail. He was having a fantastic time, and everyone was taking pictures with him. I thought it seemed so nice that he was able to sort of be in disguise and just let go, have fun, be totally uninhibited. Not only did it look like he was having a good time, but everyone else was enjoying it too.
I must’ve looked too long, because Z glances behind him and sees what I’m looking at.
“You like that?” he asks.
Before I can reply, Derek spits out, “If he doesn’t, I sure do. That looks hot.”
“What?” I’m having a face-as-red-as-a-cherry moment again. “You don’t think it’s a little weird?”
Derek shrugs. “What? A little puppy play?”
“You know what it is?”
I know that much. After I saw it that night at Flirt, I Googled it, but I didn’t look into puppy play much since I was worried Peter would see what I was searching online. And then after he gave me shit for looking at the hood, I just pushed the thought away entirely.
It feels so stupid to be embarrassed over something like this, but it’s such a strange thing, and I’m not exactly sure why it even interests me.
What about it do I find so appealing?
But it’s kind of nice hearing Derek talk about it, not like it’s this strange thing, but as something that could be hot.
“Have you ever tried it?” I ask him.
“Not me, but Z is a bit of a pro.”
Z nods. “Yeah. I actually run a few moshes, but we also have a couple of pup events at the club every third Saturday that time with our big leather nights. Those are a little less intimidating. We call it PupStravaganza. It’s designed to promote pup visibility in the community. Pups and their handlers or trainers come in and hang around the bar, just mingling with the guys on our leather night. You should totally swing by sometime. The guys are really nice and always happy to chat with people about it some more. We have a Facebook group, if you’re interested.”
I laugh uncomfortably.
It’s weird that Z and Derek are totally acting like this is a normal thing…or at least, not as laughable as the way Peter acted about it.
“You want to try on the puppy mask?” Z asks.
“Oh, no, no. That’s too much for me.”
But I can’t deny there’s a part of me that really wants to.
Derek must sense my uneasiness, because he slings his arm around me. “Baby steps, Z. I think adding some more leather to Evan’s wardrobe is a big first step.”
I can’t help but think about what Frankie was telling me earlier in the week…about getting back out there.
I just don’t want you to hold yourself back in any way because of that prick or because you don’t trust yourself.
I’ve learned from therapy and my own life that I’m happiest when I push myself into doing things that have made me uncomfortable at first—like with the coffeehouse.
Maybe it could be fun to try something like this.
We head out of Otterly, my curiosity piqued.