Kinky Sprinkles

by L. A. Witt

  After they’d ordered and handed off their menus to the waiter, Joel sipped his drink and gazed at the man sitting across from him. Regardless of how they’d ended up here, it was surreal to think he was having dinner alone with Andre of all people. A few days ago, Andre was out of Joel’s league. Then Joel was in Andre’s bed. Now they were in the same booth.

  He set his glass down. “I just realized I only know the Andre who comes to the dungeon. I know nothing about you outside of that.”

  Andre smiled. “What do you want to know?”

  Joel wasn’t even sure what to ask at this point. He’d been conditioned a long time ago not to ask questions, and now he wasn’t used to curiosity being met with openness.

  He absently drew circles in the sweat on his glass. “Well, what do you do? For work?”

  “I work in IT.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yep. Not the most exciting field in the world, but it pays the bills.”

  “And I guess if you were in a sadistic mood, you could fuck with everyone’s passwords and listen to them freak out.” He had a split second to regret it and be certain he was out of line before Andre threw his head back and laughed.

  “I never thought of that.”

  Joel chuckled, both relieved and amused.

  Andre played with the straw in his glass. “Actually, that would be more of a masochistic thing, I think. My phone would be ringing off the hook with people screaming at me to fix their passwords, and they would all need to be first in line because their work was of utmost importance.” He rolled his eyes. “So I just do things like set up the firewall to block Facebook. Then they can’t do anything or even whine to me because they’re not supposed to be on it at work in the first place.”

  Joel snickered. “That is evil.”

  “Hey, it’s the only thing that keeps you sane in my line of work.” He grinned wickedly. “In fact, a few years ago, we had this one asshole who just loved walking all over IT. Every time we came in to update something or install some hardware, he’d act like it was this horrendous imposition that we were interrupting his important work. Every fucking time, we got to hear about what useless idiots we were. And when we were working on someone else’s computer, like if there was malware or something, he’d be there to tell everyone all about how we were a waste of company resources.”

  Joel clicked his tongue. “I think there’s one of those in every office.”

  “Oh there is. And my coworker and I, we got sick of it. So one day she has to get on his machine for about twenty minutes because the new software was buggy as hell and was fucking up, and he spends the whole time berating her and letting everyone within earshot know how stupid she was. He didn’t quite call her out for being a woman, because he knows where the lines are with HR, but believe me, the implication was hard to miss.”

  “Ugh.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, skip ahead a couple of days, and she and I had to come in on the weekend to update some software while everyone was out. And she disappears for like ten minutes, but wouldn’t tell me where she’d gone. Monday, that asshole coworker is on the line because his computer was being weird. Nothing was working, he couldn’t click on anything, his start menu was frozen—the cursor moved but nothing was happening.”

  Joel cocked his head. “So, how’d you fix it?”

  “I didn’t. She did.” Andre chuckled, sending Joel’s pulse up a few notches. “Turns out, she’d logged into his machine, screencapped his desktop, set the screencap as his desktop, and then hidden all the icons and the start menu.”

  Joel burst out laughing. “That’s amazing. Bet he stopped being such an ass.”

  Andre gestured dismissively. “Oh, he was still a dick after that, but it was funny as hell anyway.” He cradled his drink between his hands. “So what about you? What do you do?”

  Joel folded his hands on the table. “I’m a business consultant. Basically, I’m that asshole who goes through and tells a company who they should fire and what they should stop doing if they want to get back in the black.”

  “Oh, you’re that guy.”

  “Yeah. In my defense, though, I usually tell them to trim the fat in upper and middle management.” He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Somehow that always gets translated to figuring out how much an upper management guy makes, and laying off enough people to make up for his salary. Like if he makes a hundred grand a year, they find four people who cost them twenty-five apiece, and cut them.”

  Andre’s eyebrows flicked up. “Seriously?”

  Joel nodded. “Then of course their productivity and efficiency tank, and it’s my fault for being a shitty consultant.” He chuckled as he went for his drink. “By that point, I’ve already gotten paid, though, so . . .” He shrugged.

  “Doesn’t that hurt you when it comes to references?”

  “Sometimes. But I’ve got enough good references from companies who actually listened to me that I still do all right.” He paused for a deep swallow. “Business is pretty steady, and I’m getting back on my feet.”

  “After your breakup, you mean?”

  “Yep. I tried to keep it from turning into a financial disaster, so after I left him, I got the smallest apartment that would take me and my dog, and just focused on replacing things like the furniture I left behind.”

  “Smart move. Breakups are expensive, especially if you’re living together.”

  “Yep.” Joel thumbed the condensation on his glass. “I even thought about moving home, but I’ve got my business pretty well established here, and I do like it. The winters aren’t as brutal as they were in Colorado, so that’s a plus.”

  Andre laughed. “Yeah. I went to college in Massachusetts.” He shuddered.

  “Ugh. No, thank you.” Joel grimaced. “I am done living in places where snow is measured in feet.”

  “And temperatures are single digit.”

  “God. Yes.” Joel paused. “In fact, I went home for Christmas a couple of years ago, and I swear the thermometer in my car was broken. Damnedest thing.” He held up his hand, thumb and forefinger spaced about a quarter of an inch apart. “There was this weird little horizontal line in front of the temperature and it would not go away.”

  Andre choked on his drink, clapping his hand over his mouth just before he probably would’ve spit it on Joel.

  Joel snickered. “Sorry.”

  Andre sputtered a bit and croaked, “No, you’re not.”

  “Nah. You’re right.” Joel shrugged. “I’m not.”

  Andre just rolled his eyes and coughed a few more times. When he’d finally cleared his throat, he said, “I don’t mind the gentler summers too. As far as I’m concerned, single-digit and triple-digit temperatures can go fuck themselves.”

  “Amen to that.”

  “So, you grew up in Colorado?”

  “Yep. My family moved there when I was thirteen . . .”

  They split the check, and after they’d paid, walked outside. The air was still thick with the early-summer heat, and tinged with the scent of hot asphalt. It had already been unseasonably warm this year. Joel suspected that in another month or so, he’d be clinging to his air conditioner and reminding himself that fall would be along soon.

  On the sidewalk, they stopped.

  “Well, um.” Andre slid his hands into his pockets. “Where are you parked?”

  Joel gestured to the left. “I’m a block or so that way.”

  “Oh.” Andre pointed in the other direction. “I’m over there.”

  Joel couldn’t help the disappointment sinking in his chest. “Damn. Well, I guess I’ll see you . . .” At the dungeon? No, thank you. “I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

  Andre smiled. “I hope so.” He paused, then cautiously added, “You know, even if the dungeon’s not your thing, you’re always welcome at the munches.”

  “I might think about it.”

  “Well, even if you don’t, it was good to see you. And thanks for meeting with me. I’m glad everyt
hing is okay between us.”

  Joel nodded. “Yeah, me too. I guess I didn’t realize how weird it was, so . . . yeah. Glad we cleared the air.”

  “So am I.”

  They stood in silence that was vaguely awkward, but not uncomfortable in a hostile way. Just two guys who weren’t quite sure how to close the door on an evening like this.

  Finally, Andre extended his hand. They shook hands, which seemed strangely formal and even more strangely platonic. After exchanging smiles and quiet good-byes, they turned to go in their respective directions.

  See you around, I guess.

  He told himself the handshake was because they were out in public. A lingering hug between two men wasn’t the wisest thing in their less-than-progressive town. A kiss was absolutely out of the question. And who was he kidding? They’d hooked up one time, and they’d met up tonight to settle a few things. Even if they were smack-dab in the middle of a Pride parade, a kiss would have been out of line, because that wasn’t who they were.

  He was glad they’d met up and settled things, but now he had to admit that after catching a glimpse of the Andre who existed outside the dungeon, he was more than a little disappointed to be walking away. Why couldn’t he date that guy?

  Oh.

  Right.

  Because of the Andre who existed inside the dungeon.

  I wonder what Andre’s doing right now.

  Joel closed his eyes and swore into the silence of his office. It was a Tuesday afternoon, so Andre was probably doing exactly what Joel should’ve been doing—working. It had been a week since they’d met to clear things up, and this had become Joel’s new normal. After the first day or two, he’d been able to focus on his work enough that he wouldn’t piss off his clients, but Andre was always hanging around the edges of his mind.

  Which was stupid. There was nothing to be angry about anymore, and he didn’t feel like things were unresolved. He wasn’t winding himself up and being anxious about things left unsaid or loose ends left untied.

  But damn if he could get Andre off his mind. Clearing the air had calmed his anxiety, but at the same time, it didn’t exactly help him sleep. Now instead of lying awake and wondering how things could have played out differently, he spent his nights lying awake and wondering what Andre was doing right then. Or what they’d be doing if they were in the same room.

  When the weekend approached, he debated going to the dungeon just to catch an eyeful. On Friday and Saturday night, he was restless, itching to go be where Andre was, even if it meant letting the rest of the dungeon believe he really had changed his mind about kink.

  No, I’m not here for the leather. No, I’m not here for pain or submission.

  I’m just here for him.

  And he is here for leather, pain, and submission, so fuck my life.

  Another restless week and even more restless weekend went by, and it wasn’t getting any better. The fact was, Joel wanted him. He’d had a taste, and he wanted more.

  But . . . kink.

  What did it matter anyway? He’d been the nearest warm body when Andre was turned on after a scene. Plain and simple. Otherwise, the night they’d met up for dinner would’ve ended with, Now that that’s out of the way, you want to come back to my place?

  It hadn’t, though. Because—

  Joel’s phone buzzed, derailing his train of thought and nearly sending him tumbling out of his chair. He even woke up Cinnamon, who glared at him like he’d just insulted her ancestors.

  As he apologized to his dog and reached for his phone, he had visions of a text message from Andre. Some other reason for them to connect and make it even harder for him to concentrate.

  Nope—April.

  Hey asshole—up for drinks?

  He chuckled and wrote back, You buying, bitch?

  A second later, she replied, Only if it’s cheap.

  Like you?

  Bite me. Meet me at the usual place. 7.

  After they’d made their arrangements, Joel tried to focus on his work again, but a ball of apprehension formed in the pit of his stomach. They hadn’t seen each other since the night he’d left the dungeon with Andre. They’d texted about it a little—she’d tried to pry details out of him, but he’d sworn not to kiss and tell.

  Bullshit, they both knew. He wouldn’t kiss and tell via text because then there would be evidence. In person, with no one else around except an undoubtedly empty bottle of wine? Oh, he could dish details that would make the girl squirm. He hadn’t minded doing that in the early Rob days. As things got uglier with Rob, April had stopped asking.

  Now, Rob was in the past, and Joel finally had some juicy details about a night with another man. Details that he had to admit would be fun to share over some wine. That fact made him feel, awkwardness aside, one step closer to leaving Rob in the dust and moving on with his life. There was sex after Rob. There was life after Rob. There was happiness after Rob, even if Joel was only getting it in little tastes—that was more than he’d had in a long time, and he was getting more optimistic by the day that the real thing wasn’t out of his reach.

  He tried to ignore the depressed feeling pushing down on his shoulders, and instead hang on to the silver lining about having some details to chat about with his friend. The way things had turned out with Andre couldn’t be helped. That didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the memory, relentlessly taunt April with it, and use it as hope that a better-than-Rob guy was out there waiting for him.

  More and more he believed he really was going to be okay.

  Joel was early, and April was late, which was normal.

  “You know,” he said as she sat down, “for someone whose name is literally on a calendar, you have a hell of a time showing up before—”

  “Bite me.” She huffed. “I got stuck in a meeting.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I did! You want details of what we talked about?”

  “Ugh. No.” He wrinkled his nose. “City-planning shit puts me to sleep faster than wine.”

  “Then can it.”

  They exchanged good-natured glares.

  “Anyway, I’m sorry I haven’t been able to meet up.” She rolled her eyes and groaned. “Fucking overtime has been nonstop.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  “Well, we’re here now.” She gave him a huge, toothy grin. “So? How did things go with Andre?”

  “It was fun. I mean, one night with Andre.” He grinned. “Can’t beat that.”

  She huffed sharply. “You bastard.”

  He laughed, but it was more halfhearted than he’d intended and didn’t last. “Now if I could just get him out of my head, I’d be fine.”

  “Like, fantasizing about him because he’s hot in bed? Or fantasizing with little hearts in your eyes?”

  Joel . . . didn’t really have an answer for that.

  April winked. “I don’t blame you. Dude’s a hottie, but he’s also really sweet.”

  “He kinda is. Too bad we’re not a great match, right?”

  The grin vanished. She studied him. “Did something happen? You don’t seem nearly as happy as you should be after hooking up with him.”

  Joel’s gut clenched. “It was . . . uh . . .”

  “What happened? Or didn’t happen? Or— Dude, what’s up?”

  He sat back and rubbed his eyes. “It was insanely hot. I mean, I’ve had fantasies about Andre, and then I had the real thing, and . . .” He whistled. “Yeah. It was hot.”

  “But you don’t seem happy about it.”

  “I’m . . . I don’t know how I feel about it.”

  She folded her hands on the table and hunched over them. “Why not?”

  He avoided her eyes. “Because as soon as it was over, the first thing I thought was how much I wanted to do it again. And the first thing out of his mouth was that we could maybe meet up at the dungeon.”

  April shrugged. “That doesn’t mean he’s going to drag you into the dungeon or give you shit for not going.”


  “No, and we had a talk about it. He apologized and all.” Joel shook his head and sighed. “But it made me realize that this won’t work. At least not for very long. His default setting is BDSM. Mine isn’t.”

  She pursed her lips.

  Joel went on. “Andre’s not going to give up being a Dom or a sadist. And I would never ask him to. But, I mean, I just spent three years of my life going through the motions for somebody else who didn’t want to give it up. It doesn’t even matter that Rob was a shitty Dom, sadist, and boyfriend—”

  “And human being.”

  “Right. Rob aside, I’m not wired to be a masochist or a sub. So there’s no way it could work. How do you compromise with that, you know? There’s no middle ground. Either I’d have to play kinky when I don’t want to, or he’d have to give it up when he doesn’t want to. Or both.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, we could keep fucking and ignore it, but it’ll come back and bite us eventually. Remember when you dated Jeremy?”

  “Oh my God.” April rolled her eyes. “That is totally not the same thing. Religious differences are . . . I mean, it isn’t like . . .” She huffed. “Okay, I see what you’re getting at, but it’s not like you’ll ever have to explain to your mom that you’re missing Easter because Andre’s taking you to the dungeon.”

  Joel laughed. “That would be the epitome of an uncomfortable discussion.”

  “Exactly. And one you don’t have to worry about because being kinky doesn’t dictate your holidays and whether or not your partner drags you to church.”

  “No, but how long do you think Andre would last in a relationship with someone who doesn’t want to go to the dungeon? At all? Ever?” He shook his head and sighed. “I don’t even remember the last time I went to that place and didn’t see him there. I can’t expect him to give it up.”

  April’s ever-present optimism would’ve been really nice right then, but she just sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I guess that would be kind of tricky to get around.”

  “Seriously.”

  “There’s other fish in the sea, honey,” she said. “And there are plenty of fish who aren’t kinky.”

  But the only fish I want is—