Sapiosexual

by Tymber Dalton

  And now, here he was, after midnight on a Friday night, while George was out with his girlfriend and texting him every five minutes asking if it was fixed yet, while Nick was doing…

  Well, this.

  Who’s the dumbass? Ah, that would be me.

  George was freaking out because he might lose one or two sales—if past sales trends tracking on the site were any indication—of his custom art.

  No, of course switching out to a default template until Nick could rebuild the one George had farked wasn’t an option for George.

  He wanted the new one working again.

  And since George had upgraded the web site’s core software that morning to the newest version, Nick couldn’t just revert the template back to his backup copy. Some of the updates had broken parts of the template there, too.

  And of course, no, George couldn’t wait until Monday to do the update, like Nick had asked him to. When Nick would have had the template modified and tested for him and ready to drop into place.

  Nope.

  So now here went his Friday night.

  Not that I had plans. But it would have been nice to have the option.

  A couple of his friends had told him about a club they were going to that night. Had invited him to come along with them. A BDSM club. They were having an open house newbies’ night. His friends had acted quite titillated in a five-year-old kind of way about it all.

  He hated to break the news flash to them that he’d already known all about Venture. He just hadn’t gotten there yet.

  Also, he hadn’t admitted to already researching the club for his own reasons.

  Close to two a.m., he heard keys rattling in the apartment’s front door. He didn’t bother looking up. His twin, Richard, walked in, kicking the door shut behind him.

  “Hey,” Nick said.

  Rich mumbled a response as he headed over to the small table to dump his stuff.

  “Don’t forget to lock the door,” Nick said.

  Another mumble in reply, but Rich walked over and snapped the deadbolt back into place. A faint whiff of pepperonis and tomato sauce followed Rich like a cloud.

  “Rough night?”

  Rich stopped and glared at him.

  “Sorry,” Nick said.

  Rich headed toward his bedroom. Nick knew the routine. Rich would take a shower to wash of the smell of pizza before grabbing a bite to eat and then collapsing into bed until at least noon the next day.

  After twenty-nine years of being brothers, Nick knew better than to say anything to his fraternal twin about his life choices. At least Rich had saved up enough money to try to finish his degree online and was currently taking a couple of classes. If they weren’t living together and sharing expenses, there wouldn’t be any way his brother could afford it.

  A few minutes later, his brother’s bedroom door opened again, then the hall bathroom door closed, followed by the sound of the shower starting.

  Yep.

  Richard also played guitar and gave lessons. However, Friday and Saturday nights were the prime nights at the pizza place he drove for. He couldn’t not work those shifts. He made reliable money, albeit not much, that he couldn’t guarantee if he worked with a band somewhere picking gigs up on weekends. Although he did sometimes sit in with some friends of his for weddings, Ren fairs, and other events like that.

  He’s an adult.

  Nick had finished sorting out the template issues by the time Rich emerged from the bathroom, his brown hair wet and sticking up on his head, a towel wrapped around his hips.

  “Did you let George sucker you into working on his site tonight?” Rich asked.

  Nick didn’t look up from his laptop. “It was that, or my phone blowing up from texts all damn night long.”

  Rich shook his head. “He walks all over you. You know that?”

  “He’s my friend.” He looked up at Rich. “And he pays cash.”

  “Yeah, well, Mr. Trust-Fund Baby can afford to throw greenbacks around.” He headed for the kitchen. “You should charge him more if he’s going to boss you around like that.”

  Nick did go in and change George’s user settings from administrator to editor, which meant George could post content but no longer mess with the template.

  And Nick changed the FTP password and file permissions for good measure.

  The next time George wanted to change the template, he’d have to message Nick first.

  Nick shut his computer down and set it on the coffee table. “I don’t mind doing it. Not like I was going out tonight, anyway.”

  Rich sniffed at a plastic tub holding leftover mac and cheese before he grabbed a fork and started eating it, cold, right out of the container. “You need a life. You work hard. You deserve time off.”

  Okay, for all his brother’s faults, at least narcissism wasn’t one of them.

  “So says the guy who hasn’t been out on a date in how long?” Nick asked.

  Rich leaned against the counter. “We’re pitiful. You know that?”

  Nick stood and stretched. “Yeah, well, at least we’re pitiful together. Race to the bottom, and all that crap.” He smiled. “Did Dad text you today? About breaking up with Kimberly.”

  Rich snorted. “I wish I could say I felt bad for him, but I don’t. I kind of want to smack both of them.”

  “Join the club.” He hit the remote and shut the TV off. “What’s it say that, at least in that way, we have our shit together better than our parents do?”

  Rich shrugged. “Doesn’t say much, honestly. Not in the ways it should.”

  Nick headed to his bedroom. It’d been easy to settle who got the master bedroom with the en suite bathroom. Nick made more money and insisted on paying a slightly larger share of the monthly bills.

  Nick knew his brother was trying, working his ass off, and Nick didn’t feel resentful about the disparity in monthly expenses. It wasn’t that his brother wasn’t smart, because he was. He was smarter in different ways than Nick. His grades hadn’t been enough to get an academic scholarship like Nick had. So when their parents divorced, Rich had opted to drop out and join the workforce. Partly out of practicality, and partly out of spite at both of them.

  While Nick hadn’t agreed with his brother’s decision, he had respected it. The last thing he’d call his brother was a slacker, even if Rich’s worldview and approach to life differed from his own.

  Right after graduation, Nick had landed a job at Asher Insurance, in their Windows department, writing code and debugging problems that cropped up, helping to keep the insurance behemoth running smoothly. Benefits, paid vacation, and PTO, it was a great job even if it didn’t stretch his mind that much. It kept him busy, it kept him paid, and it kept him comfortably able to pay his bills while building up his retirement.

  Rich, on the other hand, was barely making it paycheck to paycheck. Over the past six months, since making the decision to try to complete his degree, he’d depleted the little bit of savings he’d had paying for that. When Nick had offered to loan him the money, Rich had refused.

  Stubborn to a fault, but again, Nick couldn’t blame him. He’d rather have a stubborn brother who tried to stand on his own feet than a leech who sucked the life and money out of him.

  They had to stick together. Their parents had proven unreliable in that regard.

  As he got ready for bed, he once again wished they had divorced years ago, when he and his brother were little kids.

  It would have been far easier to deal with, rather than learning what he thought was a perfect marriage had only been a lie for their benefit all those years.

  * * * *

  After Nick went to bed, Rich stood in the kitchen and polished off the remains of the mac and cheese. He was sick of eating pizzas, or subs, from the pizza place he worked for.

  He also still had about four hours’ worth of homework he needed to finish and get turned in by Monday morning for his class. He wasn’t sure what he’d do when he finally got his BA, but maybe he coul
d apply to be a substitute teacher or something. At least until he managed to land a better-paying permanent gig.

  He held no illusions he wouldn’t become an Internet sensation, no matter how well his YouTube channel did in ad revenues. Right now, he was pulling in around a hundred dollars a month in ad fees from there. It helped pay for groceries, at least, but it wasn’t like it would make him rich.

  He envied Nick’s ability to buckle down and focus and land a great job after graduation. He’d never had that tenacity.

  When their parents split up, Nick had taken a challenge accepted mindset.

  He, on the other hand, spent months reeling emotionally, unable to accept their childhood had been one big lie.

  Why bother getting the degree and getting married and getting the house and the kids and all that crap if none of it was real and didn’t mean a damn thing?

  Growing up, he’d silently looked down on his friends whose parents had divorced, thinking he and Nick were in some way superior to them.

  At least their friends’ parents hadn’t lied to them all those years. Didn’t matter that Rich and Nick’s parents thought they were doing the right thing. It left Rich with a sour taste in his mouth that the perfection he’d silently admired as a kid, and had hoped to aspire to as an adult, was nothing more than smoke and mirrors.

  When he finished off the mac and cheese, he washed out the container and stuck it in the dishwasher with the rest of the dirty dishes. Then he headed for his bedroom to try to knock out a little bit of his homework before collapsing for the night.

  While it would be nice to have a woman in his life to curl up with, he’d learned firsthand that it wasn’t a sure-fire bet. He needed to finish getting his life in order and back on track before he settled in a rut and ended up delivering pizzas for the rest of his life.

  Besides, it wasn’t like he could afford to take a woman out on a date.

  If he could even find one who would want to settle down in the kind of relationship he wanted.

  Popular fiction aside, most women tended to give you the evil side-eye if you told them you preferred to be in control in bed.

  Unfortunately, life was getting in the way. Romance would have to wait until he was in a better position to pursue it.

  Chapter Three

  Saturday morning, Chelbie knew if she didn’t at least put in an appearance at Venture that afternoon, Mallory would come hunting her down and drag her there, kicking and screaming. They were holding a rigging class, for newbies and intermediate riggers, teaching the basics of suspension. It was being billed as both a demo and a class, so that people who were completely new to shibari and suspension would feel free to attend.

  Kel would be teaching, as would his friend, Scrye. Several of their friends would also be there as assistants and spotters. Cali, Sean, and Max would be there with a demo model of portable bondage furniture, as well as some of their most popular implements for sale and demo. They were also bringing several new prototypes, to get people’s opinions.

  It wasn’t like Chelbie could claim she didn’t know anyone.

  And she enjoyed being a rope bunny for the riggers.

  Hell.

  She honestly didn’t feel like socializing today, especially with all their friends.

  She loved her friends. She truly did. They were a kinky adopted family to her. But an afternoon of seeing all her friends together when she was alone wasn’t high on her to-do list. Her energy felt whacked out.

  What she really wanted to do was go take a long walk on the beach. Unfortunately, it was a Saturday, meaning everyone else would be out there, too.

  I’d be better off going to the club.

  Finally, she talked herself into going and confirmed it via text with Mallory. If she went this afternoon, she could beg off the play session later that night. Her parents were out of town this weekend. Her dad had some sort of conference in Ft. Lauderdale or something and had stayed over. Her mom had gone with him since the hotel room was already paid for as a work expense.

  Chelbie could fire up the TV, watch a couple of movies, eat nothing but junk food, and then collapse in a bloated carb coma.

  Plan. Doable.

  * * * *

  “You’re late,” Mallory said upon Chelbie entering Venture’s lobby that afternoon. Chelbie’s friend stood by the desk, presumably talking with the volunteer manning it.

  “Hello to you, too. And I’m not late. It starts at two. It’s not two.”

  Mallory grabbed her by the arm and started dragging her toward the door leading into the play space. “It starts in ten minutes. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show. It’s packed in there.”

  It wasn’t exactly packed, but there were thirty-odd people or so in addition to the people there to present and teach.

  As she scanned the audience, Chelbie recognized about half of the people in attendance. Of the rest, there were a couple of guys who caught her eye, but who knew if any of them were single, or even looking?

  Or have a brain between their ears.

  She was seriously sick of guys who could list the location of every season of Survivor, but who had no damn clue that The Canterbury Tales weren’t some indie punk band, or a TV show. Guys who thought The Big Bang Theory was hysterical, but for whom most of the best jokes simply went over their head.

  Everyone had their kink. She made no apologies for the fact that she was a sapiosexual, that smart guys made her bell ring.

  And she didn’t want an obnoxiously smart guy, either. One who was a total academic without a sense of humor or a lick of common sense. Those kinds of assholes were nearly as annoying as the gym-rat jocks who could wax melodic about the virtues of Muscle Milk.

  Blech. Now that sounded like a creepy kink, if taken out of context.

  Mal stopped just inside the door and leaned in close, dropping her voice. “I need you to model for Kel today. Please?”

  “Why? You love doing—oooh.” Her friend’s uplifted eyebrow told the story. “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, so am I,” Mallory grumbled. I thought I had a couple of days.”

  “Well, beats the alternative.”

  “True. Thank you for doing this.”

  “No probs.” They walked over to where Kel was getting his rope ready under the large metal A-frame. “I hear I’m your rope bunny for the afternoon.”

  “I appreciate it, Chelbie.”

  “No worries. Nakey, topless, or tank? I even matched my undies and my top today.”

  He smiled. “Tank top and panties are fine.”

  “Don’t wanna grope me, huh? Fiiiine. I’ll remember that.” She dropped her bag next to his rope bag by one of the A-frame’s uprights.

  He laughed. “Don’t go getting me in trouble, now.”

  He knew she was teasing him. “No, I see how you are. Don’t want to scare the noobs. Sure, fine.” She peeled off her blouse and folded it.

  “Want me to dig out a ball gag for her?” Mallory asked.

  “No, she’ll just like that,” he said.

  Chelbie stuck her tongue out at him as she kicked off her ballet flats and unfastened her jeans. “I’ll remember that, buddy.”

  “Behave,” Mallory said as she sat, her back against one of the uprights.

  “What’s the fun in that?” Chelbie folded her jeans and put them and her blouse on top of her bag, her shoes next to it. “Life’s too short to behave, kiddo. History never remembers the quiet people. Except, you know, like Helen Keller—”

  “Really?” Mallory said. “Okay, what the hell did you have to eat this morning? Did you mainline caffeine or something?”

  Chelbie smiled. “Hey, someone said I had to be here.”

  “I didn’t say your snark had to be here with you.”

  “Suck it up, buttercup.” Chelbie raised her arms and stretched, twisting her body both ways. “Next time you decide you’re going to try to hook me up with someone, you’ll think twice about it.”

  “I’m thinking twice a
bout it now. Holy crap. You’re in rare form even for you.”

  * * * *

  Rich looked like an extra out of The Walking Dead when he emerged from his bedroom a little after one Saturday afternoon. “Where are you going?” he asked Nick.

  Nick had just made himself a sandwich and was eating it at the counter. “Going to go check out that BDSM club this afternoon. They’re having a rope bondage class and demo today.”

  Rich froze, his back to Nick, his hand on the fridge handle.

  “We going to talk about this or dance around it?” Nick finally asked.

  They’d shared women several times before. It seemed to be a popular fantasy some women had, of having twin brothers doing them at the same time. Even if they weren’t identical twins, they were close enough.

  Rich slowly turned. “What do you want me to say?”

  “I want you to admit it’s not the world’s worst idea.” For all their shared experiences with women, they rarely talked about their respective sex lives.

  Not that either of them had had much of a sex life now.

  “I’m not into beating the crap out of women, okay?”

  “Neither am I,” Nick said. “But it’s a lot more than that. That last chick, Willow? Remember how her head nearly exploded in the good way when we let loose on her?” It was Nick’s current favorite fantasy for masturbating. How he’d fisted her hair and took charge, fucking her mouth while Rich had gone down on her.

  She’d loved it. Unfortunately, she’d also been in Sarasota on spring break. While she’d texted them a few times once she’d returned to college at NYU, both brothers knew there wasn’t a long-term prospect there.

  Frankly, the times they’d shared a women had always been hotter than any lone experiences he’d had. Nick knew his brother wasn’t shopping for a long-term relationship right now, but maybe Rich wouldn’t turn down the opportunity if Nick gave it to him.

  “Dude, I have to work today. I can’t go with you. Don’t let that stop you.” Rich finally yanked the fridge open and grabbed the carton of milk from it.