Naughty November

Chapter 2

TWO

BECKETT

There is something about wearing latex that always puts me in a different headspace. The material is smooth and somehow inherently sensual. For some, it feels empowering to wear the sexy, tight-fitting outfits, and for others, the constriction is an act of submission.

For me, latex is about submission.

I’ve been exploring submission since I stumbled into a kink party in college. A casual acquaintance in the theater department heard me talking about dungeons and masters, and neither of us realized the mistake until I walked in dressed as a wizard while everyone else was in leather or lingerie. I was still a virgin at the time, only nineteen, and almost had a panic attack. He offered to walk me back to my dorm, but my curiosity won out.

Ten years later, I am still a nerd, but I’m also involved in the kink community. My current outfit is red latex with zippers for my mouth, eyes, and nipples, as well as one that starts above my cock and goes all the way around to the top of my ass. The mouth and eyes stay open unless I’m in a scene. The nipples are exposed when the latex gets too sweaty or a top wants to torture them. The biggest zipper? It rarely gets used outside of the bathroom.

It isn’t that I don’t want to have more sex. My autism meant I was bad at reading social cues, but I had no issue sleeping with strangers. I just need a little extra time to warm up to people, and for them to realize I’m open to hooking up. I for sure never notice when they’re flirting with me! I’d recently been toying with identifying as demiromantic. It felt right.

The bigger issue was who I wanted to sleep with, but not because I think any way is wrong; I only need to figure out what I’m into—sexually. I’ve been with some women, and a couple of them are transgender. My current play partner, Charlie, is a trans femme Daddy Dom who’s letting me talk through my thoughts after our scenes. What I realized the last time we debriefed is that I find myself more into the women’s dicks or strap-ons, and how they make me feel mentally and physically, rather than their femininity.

“Maybe I like being fucked more than I care about gender. Pansexual?” I ask my pet frog, Frank—a bright green Australian tree frog—and he smiles up at me. “So you agree? Demiromantic Pansexual. That works for now.”

Frank is six years old and only a few inches long, so I don’t need to feed him for another day or two. I look past his tank and heating lamp to the fog out my window. It’s almost sunset, so the fog is rolling in and obscuring the sliver of a view I can normally make out.

My studio apartment is on the hill behind my parents’ townhouse, the only way I can afford my own place in my tech support customer service job. Working from home means my mom stops by to remind me I need to eat and do my laundry. Looking around at the piles of clothes, I remember that I have a system. I know which ones are clean or dirty and which need to be hung up.

Mom and I cook together a couple of times a week, and I have a movie night with my dad at least once a month. Someday, I may want to have more space between my life and theirs, but my parents are great and let me talk about anything without judgment—even my kinks.

Walking across the space to the full-length mirror between my bathroom and bed, I run my hands across the slick material over my narrow hips. My suit is custom fitted to my tall frame—six-foot-three and barely over one hundred and thirty pounds isn’t a stock size—and imagine some of the things Charlie might do to me.

Charlie is great at making my body feel good in a scene, but she likes a little for age play, and is sexually attracted to women. I’m not a little or a woman, so we stay platonic. She is more of a kink mentor or big sister in our dynamic.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I have no clue if people find me attractive. My mom always says, “You have such pretty blue eyes and Fabio hair, Beau, ” which I think is a compliment. She’s the only one who calls me Beau since I’m Beauregard Beckett the third, but Dad called me Beckett as a baby to distinguish me from him being Beau as well. It got me teased less in school, so I just go by my last name now.

Ruffling my long, shaggy blond hair that I also inherited from Dad, I slip a hair tie off my wrist to contain it. I’ll put my hood on when I get to X Club, but I need to head out if I’m going to get there for the pre-party class.

Shoving my mask, phone, and spare clothes into my kink bag, I throw on my black trench coat and matching combat boots. Taking the path down to my parents’ back courtyard and through the basement, I exit out the garage door and pull out my earbuds. The noise cancellation helps me not get overwhelmed by city noises and loud music, but they are made to focus on conversation, so I can leave them in at the club.

The neon X Club sign is lit up as the city goes dark after a twenty-minute walk, reflecting off the shiny material of my outfit. A man I recognize, but can’t remember his name, checks me in as a member at the door and I make my way up the stairs. They are clad in white leather, studded and winding, so no passersby can look right up into the club space. Cielo, who I do recognize by their bright blue hair, waves at me on the way into the play space after I put my coat and bag away.

Cielo is teaching the pre-party class on rope safety, but I’ve been to that class before. I beeline for the lounge and find Charlie chatting with some other people I recognize as Doms in the community, some of them leaders of the club. I don’t want to interrupt, so I wait patiently a few feet away with my hands behind my back until Charlie is free.

Alright, so I might sway a bit, but I am able to tune out their conversation, mostly.

“... Kink list. November…Try new kinks…”

With my height, I’m able to go on tiptoe and see the wall they’re gathered around. There is a paper sign pinned to the announcement board with a grid of information I can’t make out, except the title ‘ Naughty November .’

“Beckett, Beckett, ” Charlie’s voice repeating my name draws my attention to her. She’s smirking, and I have to wonder how many times she said my name before I noticed. “There he is.”

“Oh, hi, Charlie. What’s this list thing about?”

“I was going to talk to you about it.” She gestures towards a nearby high-top table that’s free. “Let’s chat before you look, so we can set expectations.”

“Sure,” I agree, though my curiosity is begging to see what they were all talking about.

Something I like best about Charlie is how she does pre-discussions to keep me from getting overwhelmed. I follow to stand and wait for her to tell me I can sit, which doesn’t come until I put on my hood and collar and Charlie attaches the red leather leash she has in her pocket. She’s always in leather at the club, but even her leathers have extra pockets. She pulls a rolled-up hand towel out and lays it across the seat, so my outfit doesn’t touch the material, in case someone allergic to latex sits there next.

“Sit,” Charlie commands. I’m not fully into pet play, or at least haven’t found someone who can get me fully into that headspace, but I’ve been trying it out. “Good boy.”

“Thank you.” I blink at her and sit on my hands to keep from fidgeting. Being called ‘ good boy’ is a compliment, I know that, but I’m not super attached to the phrase. And I’m terrible at taking compliments.

“The list over there is called Naughty November ,” Charlie starts, knowing I am biting my tongue not to blurt out questions. I can ask all I want when she’s done. “There are thirty kinks that are common BDSM fantasies. The goal is for the Club to facilitate those items in stations for people who want to try them in a safe setting, but also just to have fun and try new things.”

After waiting a beat to see if there’s more, I jump in. “Are there kinks I haven’t tried? How many can we do? When is the party?”

“Yes, to your first question, there are many.” Charlie smiles in a way I think of as her patient Daddy expression, so I wait for her to go on. “I would suggest you pick one or two, three at the most. And the main party is in two weeks. You don’t have to try them here, though some would be hard to do safely outside of the club and without expert supervision.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm, needle play, for one.” Charlie leans back and taps her chin with the hand holding my leash, forcing me to sit up straighter. I like the casual control, but not the kink she mentioned.

“Don’t think that’s for me. I don’t even want a tattoo.” I shake my head and look over to where new people are looking at the list. “What else is there?”

“Let’s go look and pick a couple for you.”

“Yes.” I’m out of my seat before I remember the leash and get yanked back a pace. I squirm a bit at Charlie’s laugh because I enjoy a bit of humiliation. I’m not embarrassed in a bad way, but I am eager to see this list. “I mean, yes, Sir. When you’re ready.”

Maybe something on there can help me figure out my sexuality more firmly. If nothing else, I’d know more things I don’t like.