Naughty November

Chapter 1

ONE

He’d told me to meet him at Maverick Molly’s Kink Club and Gaming Parlor.

He was heavily into pup play, and I’d never tried it. But there had been a list circulating on social media, in some of the BDSM groups I was a part of, that named off a bunch of kinks and the challenge was to find one you’d never explored. Which had been tricky for me, to be honest.

But my eyes had landed on Pet Play and Leashes. I’d never tried that before. It wasn’t, honestly, something that intrigued me the way a lot of other kinks did. But I liked men in masks and those pup hoods were pretty adorable. Circumstance had never offered me the chance to be involved. So I specifically searched for someone in my area who was into it.

The guy’s handle was his pup name—Mischief97—I assumed that 97 was the year he was born, since his age was listed as twenty-six. He was a little young for me. I had celebrated my fortieth birthday a few months ago.

He’d seemed decent and actually quite mature when I’d messaged him. None of this coy flirtation that some of the young guys enjoyed, but a straightforward interest in me as a Dom and a person. I liked that.

Then we’d exchanged photos, and he was cute as fuck. He’d replied to mine with:

!!!!!! Holy shit and a flame emoji.

I assumed he’d liked the look of me, too. We’d talked about safety and I’d told him I was on PrEP and could show him negative STI results from a week ago. He was on PrEP, too, but his results were two weeks old, which was inconsequential.

Then we’d had a frank discussion about what we wanted.

Him: I want to be your good pup.

I want you to treat me like a dog, in whatever way that means to you.

I like bondage and objectification and humiliation.

I need to wear my pup gear. I also have some accessories that you can use.

I like impact play, but not severe. Tease and denial are a big deal.

Me: My needs are few. I want your obedience and respect—but I will earn it. I want your enthusiasm. I want to try this to see if I like it. I want to have fun and I want you to have fun also.

Then we had exchanged our real first names.

His was Atticus. I asked if that was Greek and he’d said yes. He’d said it was his given name and that he was Greek with some Spanish thrown in for texture, winky face. And I’d sent him a laughing emoji.

When he found out my name was Luther, he’d said he’d never met a Luther before.

We texted about where to meet.

Atticus: Have you heard of Maverick Molly’s?

Me: No? Is it a bar?

Atticus: You’ll see. Let’s meet there.

Me: Fine.

Atticus: I’ll book the Bordello, but we can meet in the gaming parlor first.

Me: ???

Atticus: The Bordello is a kink space in the back.

Me: Oh. Nice. Is it pricey?

Atticus: I’ll cover it. But you’ll have to become a member of the club.

Me: How much ?

He gave me a number that was pretty reasonable, if the place was as nice as he’d said.

Me: Is it worth it?

Atticus: I think it is. If we decide we don’t want to use the kink space, it’s fine. We can at least have a drink together.

I liked the way he wasn’t pressuring or assuming, since we’d never met in person. Some of these young guys were intense. He seemed decent and low-key.

I already liked the sounds of this Maverick Molly’s place.

I’d been picturing a modern gaming establishment, like a mini-casino or something of that nature, so when I saw the old-fashioned signage and walked up the steps to the large double doors, then stepped into history, it was startling.

Even the entry area and the hallway had the ambience of a Victorian drinking establishment. Sounds of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and men’s voices drifted through a nearby archway. It was immediately welcoming and alluring after a long day’s work in the office.

My day job at the Translation Bureau in Public Services and Procurement, with the Federal Government, wasn’t physically taxing in the least. But the strain of working on documents for eight hours a day could take a toll. I was ready for something that didn’t involve reading or, frankly, thinking . I needed a distraction, and I certainly hoped Atticus could help me out.

Someone came out of the room to my left, and at first glance, I took the person for a young woman dressed in Victorian undergarments. But I did a double take because something was off. It turned out to be a very handsome young man.

I blinked.

“Welcome to Maverick Molly’s!” he said, smiling. “I can see by the expression on your face that you’ve never been here before.”

“Uh…no. Seems I’ve missed out,” I said, my gaze raking over the attractive man in the scintillating costume. He was shorter than me, an d svelte, the corset holding him together rather nicely. He had shaggy gelled hair and black eyeliner, and a saucy, full mouth.

“I’ll say.” He waggled his eyebrows. “My name’s Toby. I’m a server here. Are you meeting someone?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.”

The notification sound on my phone alerted me to a text. I dug it out of my pocket, giving Toby an apologetic smile.

Atticus: Look up.

I gazed into the room beside me. The young man whose photo I’d examined several times was leaning on the bar and grinning. He gave a little wave.

“That’s him,” I said to Toby, giving Atticus a casual salute.

“Lucky dog. He’s cute. Comes here maybe twice a month. Always with a different guy.”

Toby watched me to see how I’d react to that information.

I smiled. “I’m not surprised. Today, he’s with me.”

“Go on, then. I’ll be back in a bit, but there are other molly boys in there to serve you while I’m gone, Mr…?”

“Ross. Luther Ross.”

“Wonderful. Get a drink and make yourself at home.”

“Hold on. I need to sign up or something? To use the back room?”

Toby’s eyes flashed. “Oh! Of course. Talk to the bartender.”

And he was gone.

I hadn’t worn a jacket on this temperate April evening, so I strode directly into the gaming parlor and toward Atticus.

“Glad you made it,” he said, gazing at me with genuine warmth.

He really was cute, with dimples and masses of loose brown curls falling to his ears. His hair was cut close at the back and sides. He had the Grecian features of an ancient sculpture—an aquiline nose and full lips—but his eyes were a hazel green that might have come from his Spanish side. Or not. At any rate, he was more attractive than his photo.

He seemed genuinely excited to see me, and his youthful look and fit body under the slim jeans and grey button-down attracted my appraisal. We hadn’t exchanged nudes or anything like that, another thing I liked about him. But I could see now from the way his clothes clung to him that he had a body to die for. I only hoped he wasn’t disappointed with me.

I’d worn my sexiest black jeans, a pair of shiny Chelsea boots, and a burgundy button down, untucked only because I was self-conscious of my softer belly. There had been a time when I’d been as fit as Atticus, and I still had good muscle tone in most places. Hopefully, he liked the slight lines on my face that had made their appearance over the past few years, and the fact that my short black hair was beginning to grey.

“So? What do you think?” he asked.

My mouth went dry. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

He laughed and blushed, but shook his head.

“No, I mean about the club. But thank you. And, same.” He raked his gaze down my body and it immediately responded to the heat in his eyes.

“Oh! Well, it’s very unique, that’s for sure. I had no idea it existed.” I gazed about me at the antique furniture and general ambience, and noticed several corseted young men in white bloomers and black stockings flitting around, engaging with the men at the circular tables.

“I discovered it last year. It’s a nice change from the usual places. And the straights don’t ‘get it’, so they tend to steer clear. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Nice. So no unwelcome bachelorette parties?”

He made a face. “No. Thank God.”

He shook his head and continued.

“I don’t care if a straight person wants to come to a gay bar, as long as they treat the people who are queer with respect. Sometimes they don’t.”

“Yes, I know. I suppose it’s a problem with becoming so mainstream,” I suggested, trying to keep control of my desire for this tempting man. It had been a while since a random stranger had inspired such hope in me.

“Did you want to get a drink?” Atticus asked. “There’s a table in the corner we could grab. My reservation for the Bordello is in forty-five minutes, so we have time to get acquainted.”

“That sounds great. Also, I need to speak to the bartender about the membership. I’m definitely interested,” I said, giving Atticus another hungry look. “In everything I’ve seen already.”

He laughed and turned to the imposing black man on bar duty. “Hey, Jacob. You’ve got a new convert.”

The man named Jacob smiled blithely. He wore clothes that were tailored to his muscular body and reminiscent of the early nineteenth century.

“Welcome to Maverick Molly’s,” he said, offering me his hand. “I’m Jacob Moriarty. My husband, Sebastian, and I run the place.”

“Luther Ross.” I shook his hand. “What a wonderful idea for a club,” I said, gazing at the young men in Victorian undergarments. “Those handsome servers are a nice touch, I must say.”

“Ah yes, our molly boys. They perform on stage as well.”

“You’re kidding. Like...lipsyncing to songs?” I knew that wasn’t right as soon as it was out of my mouth.

Jacob and Atticus looked at each other and smiled.

“Not exactly,” Jacob said.

“You’ll see,” Atticus added.

“Yes, I think Sebastian’s just coming along now,” Jacob said, winking at someone behind me.

I turned to see a man around my age with blond hair to the shoulders, wearing the same retro clothing as Jacob, approaching.

“Hello,” he greeted me. “New to Molly’s?”

“Yes,” I confessed. “I’m here with Atticus.”

“Mmm. Lucky Atticus.” He held out his hand. “Sebastian Moriarty. I see you’ve met my husband.”

“Yes. I think I’d like to take out a membership.”

“Excellent.” Sebastian and I shook hands. He turned to Jacob. “Who’s signed up for the stage this evening?”

Jacob nodded at the molly boy I’d met earlier. “Toby’s your man.”

“Oh wonderful. It’s usually him when Robin’s not here.” He frowned. “I think we need to incentivize some of the others to perform more. Like Kip. He’s fantastic when he agrees to do it.”

“Yes, I agree. Maybe a monetary bonus if they perform during their shift. Let me think on it,” Jacob said .

“I’m sure Robin and Toby could use some extra money. And the client’s love it, so…”

Atticus grinned. “Well, it’s not something we can see anywhere else, you know.”

Sebastian nodded at me. “Wonderful to meet you, Mr. Ross,” he said, then moved on to take a seat at the piano by the stage. He played a quick riff and spoke into the microphone.

“Would Toby Dunn please come to the stage? It’s time for a saucy and scintillating interlude.”

Applause erupted and there were hoots and hollers as Toby glanced Sebastian’s way and held up his index finger to indicate that he’d need a moment.

Jacob brought out an iPad and presented it to me.

“If you could just fill out this electronic form and show me two pieces of identification, we can get this ball rolling.”

“Sure. Great,” I said, taking it from him. I took a moment to read over the contract, then started to put in my info.

“What do you want to drink, Luther?” Atticus asked. “Nothing with booze if we’re going to do a scene.”

“No, of course not. I’ll have a club soda with lime, please.”

“We can always get a proper drink afterwards. I might need one,” he said, eyeing me up and down.

I grinned at him and winked. “We both might.”

I filled out my information and sent Jacob an e-transfer for the fee. Jacob printed out a membership card.

“There you go. You’re official now, Luther Ross.”

“Thank you.” I turned to Atticus. “And thank you for introducing me to this place. Let’s get that table before the show starts.”

We took our seats at the table beside the huge fireplace. Someone had placed an arrangement of artificial pillar candles in it since the weather outside was too warm to warrant a blaze. The soft glow of their battery-operated flames bounced off the dark walls of the hearth and added to the old-fashioned ambience.

Toby still hadn’t gone to the stage, but Sebastian was singing a version of Frank Sinatra’s Fly Me to the Moon, while we waited. He played quite well and had a lovely tenor voice .

“So…forty, huh?” Atticus said. “You don’t look it. Like, at all.”

“That’s nice of you to say.”

“No, I mean it. I thought so when I saw your photo.” He put his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand, gazing at me with appreciation. “Just enough Daddy to be sexy as fuck.”

I laughed, blushing with self-consciousness. “Is that what you tell all your dates?”

He blinked softly, like a cat. “I don’t only date older men, you know.”

“Oh?”

He sat up. “I sometimes pull guys my age. Sometimes younger even.”

“Hmm. Is that so?”

“The leather pup community tends to be on the young side.”

“That’s true,” I said. “Do you only hang out with other guys into the fetish?”

He indicated me. “Clearly not.”

“Ah, but we are here to indulge it, aren’t we?” I asked. “Where’s your pup gear? Did you bring it?”

“It’s in my backpack behind the bar.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Also, they have some stuff in the space we’re renting.”

“Really,” I said, leaning forward.

“Yes,” Atticus said, grinning with mischief. “It’s stocked with all kinds of things.”

“Pup things?”

“Some. And kitty things. And even some pony things.”

“Oh! What, like saddles?” I asked, not quite sure what that meant.

He shook his head. “Probably not. But there’s a bridle and a hitching post.”

“Jesus,” I said, the very thought sending a jolt to my cock. “But…you’re into the puppy stuff only? Or…”

“I might be persuaded.”

I gazed at him. He gazed at me.

“Well. Isn’t that interesting?” I said, my brain exploding. “We should really get to know each other a bit before we head back there. ”

“Sure. Ask me anything,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.

“Do you like the name Atticus, or do people call you something else?”

“Oh, you mean, like, a nickname?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, my close friends call me Kit. But I like the way my full name sounds in your mouth.”

“So do I.” Although the nickname was as adorable as he was.

He smiled. “What about you?”

I shrugged. “A few people call me Lou. But I’d prefer you to be more formal.”

He grinned. “Of course. Although when I’m in pup space, I won’t be speaking.”

“Oh. I suppose that makes sense.”

He inclined his head.

“You’ll need a safeword, though.”

“I normally use ‘rainbow’.”

“That works.”

“How about you?”

I smiled. “You think I’ll need one?”

“Maybe.” He gazed at me as if I were a ribeye steak, and I wondered how intense this was going to be.

“I suppose it’s a good idea. I normally use ‘bicycle’.”

“Okay.”

“Now…hard limits. I won’t do anything involving choking or breath play. No blood, scat or piss.”

“That’s fine. There are rules for the Bordello and that sort of thing isn’t allowed. And I’m pretty much the same, anyway.”

“Pretty much?” I said, with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, I like the idea of breath play, and I might do it with someone I know well. But not with a hook-up.”

“Fair,” I said. “Best to be safe.”

“Exactly,” he said. “What are your soft limits?”

“In terms of what I’d be willing to do to someone, I don’t have many.”

His smile broadened. “Hmm. ”

“What are your exact hard limits, Atticus?”

He thought about that. “Well, everything you mentioned. Don’t put anything in my cock.”

“Noted. I doubt they’d have the equipment for that. What about your ass?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager.

He grinned widely. “Oh, my ass is up for anything.”

“Wonderful,” I said. “Do they have…”

“Oh yeah. Big selection. Everything is sterilized in a proper autoclave, since the toys are used on multiple people.”

A squeal of interference from the microphone alerted us to the fact that Toby had finally joined Sebastian for his performance.

“Oooh, sorry about that. Hello, everyone, I’m Toby.”

“We know who you are. Now get on with it,” someone shouted from a table near the door.

Toby gave them a narrow-eyed glare. “Rude. Anyway, I’ve decided to recite a little poem for you today. Let’s see…” he tapped his head, then his eyes lit up. “All right, I’ve got one.”

He put his hands on his hips and widened his stance, lifting his chin. As he recited, he exaggerated his facial expressions to match with the lines.

“Now, Steve was a fella with plenty of class,

Who knocked the boys dead when he wiggled his…”

Someone yelled out “Ass!”

But Toby continued. “ Eyes at the fellas as boys sometimes do

To make it quite plain that he wanted to, Go for a walk or a stroll through the grass,

Then hurry back home for a nice piece of…”

Toby put a hand to his ear and raised his eyebrows.

“Ass!” a few men shouted out.

Snickers and scoffs came from the others.

“ Ice cream and cake and a piece of roast duck, And after each meal he was ready to…”

He put his hand to his ear and half the room yelled out “Fuck!”

Toby shook his head and kept going.

“ Go for a walk or a stroll on the dock, With any young man with a sizeable… ”

“Cock!” everyone yelled.

“ Bunch of green bills in a pretty big roll, And if he talked fast enough, he would show him his…”

“Hole!”

Toby shook his head sadly at our terrible guesses.

“ Little pet dog who’s subject to fits, And maybe let him grab hold of his…” Toby sang, cupping his chemise where the top of the corset rested.

I’d never heard a group of gay men yell out the word “Tits!” so hard.

Toby threw back his head, laughing, then went on.

“ Little white hand with a movement so quick, Then he’d lean over and tickle his…”

“Dick!”

“ Chin while he showed what he once learned in France, And asked the poor fellow to take off his…

“Pants!”

“ Coat while he sang “Off the Mandalay Shore,” For whatever he was, fancy Steve was no bore.”

Toby took a deep breath and put a hand to his brow. “Holy shit. That’s a long one.”

“That’s what he said!” a few men yelled out as Toby gave them the finger and left the stage, flouncing in his petticoats like a Victorian strumpet.

I met Atticus’ wide grin.

“Utterly magical,” I said. “How did I not know this place existed?”

“Most of their advertising is on Instagram,” Atticus said, as Toby waved and bid us all adieu, placing the microphone on the piano and giving a sweet curtsy.

“That would explain it. I have Facebook but I don’t use it much. I’m not on Instagram.”

“Jesus. You are old,” Atticus said, with a gleam in his eye.

“Maybe I should sign up. Seems I’m missing out on important information.”

Atticus shrugged. “I like Instagram. It’s more chill than X and more interesting than Facebook. Please tell me you know what X is. ”

“I know what X is. It used to be Twitter. Is it still a dumpster fire?”

“There’s hope for you yet. And yes, it is. I only use it for porn.”

I rolled my eyes but grinned. Of course he used X for porn.

The words flowed between us, as if we hadn’t been total strangers before connecting on the app. It was fractionally alarming to feel this at ease with someone I was planning to enjoy a heavy kink scene with.

I liked Atticus. A little too much.

I didn’t want my emotions involved in this, except at a very basic level. I hoped it wouldn’t put me off my game. But once Atticus had his pup hood on, he’d presumably become an object or a mindless animal for me to dominate. I was excited and didn’t want strong emotions to get in the way of a primal and experimental exercise.

I’d expected to be bored with our time in the gaming parlor, and itching to get into the back room—what was it called? The Bordello—but instead, I found myself charmed and entertained by Atticus’ company.

When Atticus looked at his watch and said it was time to get the key, I didn’t think so much time had passed.

“Oh. Right.” I said, as if I’d forgotten. “Let’s go.”

Atticus put his hands on the table and gave me an impish look, then stood. As I got to my feet, he stayed me with his hand.

“Luther, I have to tell you that I never expected you to be this fucking hot, or smart, or…I don’t know. I’m starting to think I really lucked out here.”

I examined him and waffled between confessing my own feelings or keeping things business-like. As usual, I opted for the latter.

“Thank you. You’re exactly my type, physically, and I’m eager to learn more about pup play.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but closed it again.

“Perfect,” he said with a mischievous smile.

I followed Atticus to the bar.

Jacob looked up. “Is it that time?”

“Oh yes,” Atticus said, his eyes sparkling. The man had an energy about him that electrified me .

Jacob reached under the bar and brought out an antique, rusted skeleton key.

“Oh shit. That’s the key?” I asked.

Jacob laughed, then showed me the small steel key that was hung on it. “That’s the keychain . It would be amazing if that were the key, but alas, it’s not.”

“Damn. I was expecting a huge wooden door with an iron latch on it,” I confessed.

“We’ve discussed putting a key code lock on the Bordello, which makes more sense, but we’re supposed to be providing an old-fashioned ambience here. Plus, everyone gets a kick out of the keychain.”

“Is it a real antique?”

“Of course.”

“You have so many beautiful pieces,” I said.

“Thank you. We get everything from a local shop that’s owned by a good friend of ours. We have a deal to get certain items at a discount. And they put aside things that they suspect might interest us.”

“How wonderful.”

“Off you go then. You only have an hour,” Jacob reminded us. “Make the best of it. Atticus knows the rules and they’re posted by the door.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Can you pass me my backpack, Jacob?” Atticus asked.

Jacob glanced under the bar, then bent and retrieved Atticus’ pack.

“Here you go,” he said with a cheeky grin, passing it over.

Atticus grabbed his backpack, thanked Jacob, and headed out of the gaming parlor, winking at me to follow.

“Is this room as exciting as I’m expecting it to be?” I asked.

“Only one way to find out,” Atticus commented.

I followed Atticus out of the gaming parlor and down a hallway towards the back of the building. He turned left past a door marked Office, and led me to another door with Bordello on it in brass letters.

He turned to me and smirked.

“Doesn’t look like much from the outside, I know. But just wait.”

He put the key in the lock and twisted it, then turned the handle and pushed the door open.