by Nicki Rowe
“Yes, Sir,” I reply, standing and then looking back at Wally. “See you tomorrow.”
He smiles. “Looking forward to it.”
With that I follow Wendy and Sebastian to the playrooms, feeling Wally’s eyes on my back as I walk away.
Chapter 4: Wally
The sun is shining that Sunday morning, but it’s still chilly and wet from the night, dew clings to the leaves and grass blades in the small area outside of Thorns and Roses.
Our rides had started out with eight people: my crew and the guys from Thorns and Roses back when they lived and worked in Seattle, but over the last several months to a year, it had grown. First, Grizz had became friends with Declan and Lucky, and then Axe had started dating Mason, and then Declan and Lucky had met Alex. But never, have I been as excited by a new addition as I am with the addition of Gideon. Despite the negative feelings the rides bring up for me.
Seven years later, and I still can’t go on a ride without thinking about Doris. It had been her who had gotten me into motorcycles, tattoos and leather, in spite of what her parents may think. She had been the one to organize the first few rides with our OMS family eight and a half years ago.
I still had her bike collecting dust in the garage; I can’t bring myself to get rid of it.
This morning, the thought of Doris niggles at my mind, but mostly my thoughts are consumed by Gideon. It seems all I ever think about anymore is Gideon Marshall. I am still trying to wrap my mind around seeing him the night before at ALTO. I can’t stop thinking about how delicious he looked in all that leather and his harness, but what intrigued me that most was the gray bandana wrapped around his wrist. Gray was usually associated with bonadage in the community, and I was more than excited to see we had that kink in common.
What else do we have in common? I wonder as we all stand around drinking coffee, eating donuts and waiting for Gideon to arrive. My blood is pounding in my veins with excitement and frustration. We had all agreed to meet at seven-thirty and it was now five minutes to eight. I hated tardiness, if Gideon was my sub I would have punished him for being so late.
Maybe he’s not coming. My heart sinks at the thought.
Moments later, I see his beat up black Jeep swerve around the corner with loud hip-hop shit blasting out of the speakers. He’s taken the top off his Jeep and the sun kisses his skin, but sunglasses hide most of his face, making him look very much like a surfer on the coast of California. He throws a peace sign to everyone as he parks in a spot reserved for Thorns and Roses customers, and then hops out of his Jeep with his sunny smile. I find myself smiling too; it’s hard not to smile when Gideon is around.
He’s like a one man show, I realize. He draws people in with his vibrant personality and his bizarre colorful shirts. This morning he’s wearing blue jeans and a navy button down with corgis printed all over the fabric. He’s also wearing a baseball cap with a symbol from some video game Sam loves. There’s a leather cord tied around his wrist, and he’s wearing the same leather boots he had been wearing at ALTO. The sight of them are already giving me wicked ideas.
“Finally, Marshall,” Alex yells with his face buried into Declan’s broad chest. “We were all starting to think you forgot.”
“Dude,” Gideon feigns offense, “I could never forget about you, Rhodes. You stalked me all the way to Washington. You’re like an infection.”
Alex snorts. “Like the Clap.”
Gideon laughs his carefree laugh. “You said it, not me.”
Alex flips him off. “I brought you Luck’s old riding jacket. It might be a bit big.” He holds the jacket out to Gideon, who throws it over his corgi shirt. “We also have donuts.”
“Donuts! Always lead with food, Rhodes. That’s how you keep a man happy.” Gideon turns and that’s when he sees me. His blue eyes light up even more. The look of pure hunger in his eyes has me standing taller and puffing out my chest in a way that made me look like I was probably (definitely) peacocking.
He walks forward to where I had strategically placed myself near the box of donuts and the last mug of coffee on the bench outside of Thorns and Roses. It’s no secret that Gideon thinks with his stomach, and I have no shame in using that knowledge to my advantage.
Gideon’s hands are in his pockets as he approaches. His clean, just showered scent envelops me with the smell of trees and sunshine. His lips turn up in a smile, and the dimple appears on his right cheek. I want nothing more than to dip my tongue into that dimple and taste his sweet skin.
“Hello, Gideon,” I say as he comes to a stop in front of me at the bench. His blue eyes never leave mine as he reaches for a donut and the coffee. I can feel our friends looking at us, but we both ignore them. “I’m so glad you could join us.”
“Hello, Wally.” His smile broadens. My blood rushes through my body, and I can feel it pounding in my ears. Just the sound of my name on his lips has my cock twitching. “I am too, dude.”
God, I hate it when he calls me dude. The Dom in me wants him to call me Sir, to show me respect, but more than that I don’t want Gideon to think of me as just another ‘dude.’ I don’t want to be just another friend or acquaintance to him; I want to be so much more.
The door to Thorns and Roses opens, cutting off the intense moment between Gideon and me. Lacey comes out wearing makeup she had not been wearing when she entered. Her hair is braided at the nape of her neck, and she has on the leather jacket I had bought for her twentieth birthday four years prior.
“Let’s go, Pops!” She says as she strolls over. “Oh, I have that helmet you asked for.”
She hands over a black helmet and then picks up her half drank coffee from the windowsill. She kisses my cheek, which brings a small smile to my face, and then joins the small group where my son, Mike, Mason and Axe are by the row of motorcycles.
“Is Lacey your daughter?” Gideon asks as I hand him the helmet. “I thought the only kid you had was Sam.”
I look over at my children; Sam, with his unruly black hair and pale skin, and Lacey with her brown hair and her caramel skin. My heart fills with warmth from just looking at them, watching them goof off with Mason. “Lacey’s not my daughter in the biological sense, but she is my daughter. I’ll tell you the story in more detail some other day, but right now we are behind schedule,” I say, looking down at my watch.
It’s now eight-fifteen
“Is that a hint that you’re are blaming me for being late?”
I laugh. “I just like sticking to a schedule.”
Gideon rolls his eyes, which makes my entire being burn with the urge to reprimand him for the transgression, but I have to remind myself that Gideon is not my sub. Yet.
“I like to wing it,” he replies.
I find myself chuckling again. “Of course you do.”
Gideon snorts, and walks away to where Mills, Alex and his partners are climbing onto their bikes. I watch as Gideon takes off his cap, stuffs it into one of Alex’s saddlebags, and then climbs on the bike behind Alex. He looks back at me, gives me a cheeky wink and then pulls the helmet I gave him over his head.
It’s then I realize that if--no, when--I enter a dom/sub relationship with Gideon I am going to have my hands full. I am more than willing to take on the challenge.
The rest of us climb on our bikes, and the symphony of engines roaring to life draws people out of their businesses and homes. The weekly bike rides have become a tradition to the citizens of Glensville as well. People gather on the curb to see us speed off down the road. Arthur, the owner of the used bookstore next to Thorns and Roses, waves from the window of his shop as we drive off.
Long Beach is a four hour ride--so I’m less than happy about leaving at eight-fifteen, but the views on the way were amazing, and it’s hard not to get lost in the beauty of Washington.
As we ride I let my gaze drift to the Honda Alex and Gideon ride when we are stopped at red lights or stop signs. I can feel Gideon’s eyes on me when I’m not looking, but when I turn my hea
d I find that he’s looking out at the road or talking to Alex.
My entire body feels like it’s buzzing. It’s a feeling I haven’t felt with anyone since I had lost Doris, not even with the subs I have played with over the last seven years have affected me this way.
Now, that I’m alone and not able to talk to my friends as we ride, I find myself drifting further and further into my mind, thoughts of Doris pulling to the surface.
We had met in college, both having grown up on the wrong side of the tracks. Her mother had been a maid and an alcoholic, and her father had disappeared when she was ten. Her mother had a revolving door on her bedroom until she had met Doris’s stepfather and settled down. I had grown up in a house where my parents were constantly fighting and blaming each other for their bad lot in life.
Doris had introduced me to many things including motorcycles, Queen and Van Halen; my parents had raised me on Christian music and the word of God, but I had never found my groove in the religion, even at a young age. It was in the world of leather, bikes, and rock and roll that I truly felt like myself; it was with Doris that I found my home.
Eventually, Doris had introduced me into the world of BDSM, and we explored what we liked and disliked together. I had learned that I loved the art of Shibari and having my nipples played with, but Doris was more adventurous with her kinks, so we had came to an agreements that she could go out and explore those kinks that I did not wish to partake in with other doms. Our relationship had worked for us, even if others had found it strange or deviant.
The sound of a car horn blasting, draws me out of my fog. The light had turned green, and a line of cars have piled behind our cluster of bikes, which I’m leading. I singal an apology to the cars, and speed forward.
Hours later, we arrive in a town near Long Beach, and unfortunately, the fog is still settled in my brain, turning my mood melancholy. We back our bikes up along the curb, and I take off my helmet, run my hand through my hair, and then tug on my beard. My mood doesn’t improve as I climb off my bike and look around the town drenched in sunlight and the smell of the ocean filling the air.
“You alright, Pops?” Lacey asks next to me.
She has removed her jacket and laid it across the frame of her bike and she’s looking at me with concern.
I smile at her in what I hope is a reassuring way. “I’m fine, just thinking about Doris.”
Her nod is solemn as she pats my arm. “I miss her too.”
“Me too,” Sam says from my other side as he turns off his bike.
I turn to look at him. Sam had inherited a lot of things from his mother, including an attitude of not giving a fuck, sometimes I envy him for it. Today, he’s wearing kohl liner and dark purple nail polish, along with spikes and chains. We had always encouraged Sam to be whatever and whoever he wanted to be, and he had found his home in a community of goths. Most of the time his style was fairly laid back, consisting of black tees and pants, but for events, or if he just felt like it, he would dawn various dark styles that played with gender bending. There’s a picture of Sam on my mantle where he’s wearing a large hoop skirt, a button up vest and a tie. Today, he wore black jeans with riding chaps, a woman’s V-neck tee, a pair of thigh high riding boots and a pair of fingerless gloves. His hair is matted to his scalp, but he runs a hand through it, making the curls wild.
“I know, Sammy,” I tell him. “She was so proud of you, you know?”
He smiles. “I know.”
The rest of the group climbs off their bikes so we can explore the town a bit before heading to the beach. Instantly, I search out Gideon, finding him at the end of the row with Alex, Lucky and Declan. They’re all laughing and Gideon is bouncing on his toes like an excited child.
“That was so fun!” His voice carries over to where I’m standing.
We gather in front of several stores with Cason taking the lead with Mike and Grizz at his side. Gideon falls into step with me, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
His hair is shimmering in the sun, and his eyes are still lit with the excitement of the ride. He’s taken off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his corgi shirt. I can’t help but notice that even when he’s not smiling there’s a hint of the dimple in his cheek, nearly missable if you don’t know to look for it.
“Are you okay, man?” He asks, playing with the cord on his wrist. “You seem kinda off.”
I stuff my hands in the pocket of my jeans as we follow our friends. “Just thinking about my wife.”
His eyes soften. “Alex, Luck and Dec told me what happened. She was shot?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod as I watch our friends laugh at something Mason had said before I answer, “She was coming home from work and was car jacked. The man shot her in the chest; she died on the way to the hospital.”
Gideon comes to a stop and puts a hand on my elbow, drawing my attention. “I’m so sorry, Wally. Tell me about her?” His voice is soft and sweet, squeezing at my already fragile heart.
We continue walking.
“She was the strongest person I have ever known. She worked hard to help homeless youths find shelter and foster care. We lived in Vegas for most of our lives, but eventually her work brought her here.” I chuckle lightly. “I would have followed her anywhere. We told each other everything, she didn’t even bat a lash when I told her I thought I may be bisexual.”
“When was that?”
“When I was forty. I think we both knew that I liked both men and women, but I never really had a term for it until then, and I didn’t really know how to go about what I was feeling. I was happily married to Doris, but she would sometimes catch me checking out men, and then she told to explore that side of myself--we had an agreement that if one of us wasn’t getting something we needed from the other sexually we were free to explore--so I did. Only once when we were married, but it helped me understand that I was in fact attracted to both sexes.”
“She sounds wonderful,” Gideon says in that same soft, sweet voice.
I nod and smile at him. “ I don’t know how I know this, but I think the two of you would have gotten along.” I turn my head towards him just in time to see his sad smile.
“I’m sorry I won’t get to meet her.”
After that we fall into a comfortable silence as we walk behind the group, looking at the shops and listening in on their conversations.
“What’s you family like?” I ask.
“They’re . . . um . . . they’re something.” He runs a hand through his hair. “My parents and brother are pretentious and judgemental. They want me to move back to Baltimore to help my father and brother run the family business.”
“What do they do?”
“They own a distillery. Ever hear of Fire Street Whiskey?”
“Yeah, we serve it at the bar.”
Gideon’s face scrunches at my words. “That’s my family’s company. My mom keeps trying to marry me off to the girl down the street, and my dad keeps bribing me with money to go back.” He pauses to look at a bright yellow shirt in the window of a store. “My aunt is great though. She accepted me when I came out in college, and helped pull me out of my family’s shadow.”
“Your parents didn’t accept you?”
Gideon shakes his head with a cold, barking laugh. “Hell no. My mom’s exact words were: ‘Well, if you like both men and women than that means you can choose to be with a woman.’ She told me I was not to disgrace the family name by bringing home a man.”
“That’s fucking bullshit!” I bellow, causing everyone to look back at us with curious looks. Gideon motions for them to turn around and continue walking. “You can’t control who you love.”
“Exactly.” Gideon chuckles at the look of rage on my face. “Why are you so worked up about it? I don’t give a shit what my parents think of me.”
My fists clench at my sides, and I can barely control the edge to my voice when I grind out, “I don’t like the idea of someone mistreating you, eve
n if it is your family.”
Gideon smiles and looks down at his boots. “Thanks, Wally.” The tone of his voice makes that ember in my gut flutter and ignite. There’s a submissive, appreciative quality to his voice that has my dominant side noticing. It’s the same feeling I would have gotten if he had called me Sir.
I clear my throat, putting the thought of devouring his sweet mouth aside, and focus on our conversation. “Do you still see them?”
“My parents? I go to Baltimore every two months for a weekend and for Christmas.” He pauses and smiles. “I mostly go to see my sister.”
“How old is she?”
“Eighteen. Our parents are trying to persuade her to go to New York and go to school, but she wants to come out here to live with me.” He pauses again to run a hand through his hair. “I’m going home next weekend, and either she’ll be returning with me or leaving for New York.”
“You want her to come live here, don’t you?” I can see it in the wistful way he talks about his sister. He loves her very much, and I know he wants her to be close to him.
“I do,” he admits.
I veer off the sidewalk and lean against a pole, cracking my knuckles. Our friends continue exploring, but Gideon follows me. He stands in front of me, close enough that I can smell his sunshine scent, but not as close as I would have liked.
“Will you do my a favor, Gideon?”
“Yes, Wally?” Again that submissive quality that suggests he wants nothing more than to please me.
“After we return from the ride, let me take you home so we can discuss the possibility of doing a scene.”
Gideon’s smile is big and bright, his dimple on full display. His eyes light up with all the possibilities of what’s to come. “Okay, Wally.”
Chapter 5: Gideon
The water is lapping against the shore in a gentle rhythm. Wally and I haven’t had a chance to talk since we left the town and headed to the beach. Shortly after our talk near the pole, Alex had kidnapped me and kept me occupied with his antics, but Wally had kept close by. Even now, as I built a sandcastle with Alex, I can feel his eyes on me. The rest of the group is in the water, minus Declan who was burying Lacey and Lucky in the sand with the help of some children, and Cason and Wally who are only a few feet away, talking about how Cason is looking for a new pet.
