03-21-2022, 10:49 PM
Beto scrubbed his hands through his hair. His eyes felt strained and tired. Not that he had stayed up particularly late. But it had been a hard night all the same. At least he'd shaved off the stubble. Focus. He had to focus. The lead weight in his stomach sat with him nearly all the time. His heart alternated between a dull thud to running out of control in anticipation.
Usually, the last was in the evening, out in one club or other. Last night it had been a Munch. He had sat off to the side, at first, trying to observe. But looky-loos were not allowed. While voyeurism was certainly part of such a meet up, you were supposed to go there and make connections. And while not everyone was expected to play out a scene, either as sub, dom or switch, people did expect to make connections.
Not that he felt at home with BDSM, not completely. But between Anna, the nameless women, and Meera, something had been ignited. A flicker of emotion and feeling and he wanted to chase it. Had to chase it.
But nothing happened last night. There hadn't been enough time. And the public venue wasn't what he wanted. So yes, his wallet contained some new numbers. But he has still gone home alone and pounded a few. Maybe a few too many. No hangover, but if he kept it up, eventually, yeah.
That morning he'd had to remind himself why he was there. Daiyu. Cherones' cousin. And his contact. One of the reasons, anyway. He still hoped to find one of the magic users. Part of him knew they'd not have answers for him. How could they? Realistically, they ran the gamut in terms of age and experience, from what he'd seen in the news.
Still, they had more than him. And he wanted answers. And to feel again.
He gave his name to the receptionist. His contact had sent ahead to the administrator of the Guardian. Very likely he'd be put off with a functionary. But it was a start.
He took a deep breath, glad that he didn't look as bad as he felt. Energy was running thin, these days and he wasn't sure how long he'd last. He pulled out his wallet to bring up the news as he waited.
Usually, the last was in the evening, out in one club or other. Last night it had been a Munch. He had sat off to the side, at first, trying to observe. But looky-loos were not allowed. While voyeurism was certainly part of such a meet up, you were supposed to go there and make connections. And while not everyone was expected to play out a scene, either as sub, dom or switch, people did expect to make connections.
Not that he felt at home with BDSM, not completely. But between Anna, the nameless women, and Meera, something had been ignited. A flicker of emotion and feeling and he wanted to chase it. Had to chase it.
But nothing happened last night. There hadn't been enough time. And the public venue wasn't what he wanted. So yes, his wallet contained some new numbers. But he has still gone home alone and pounded a few. Maybe a few too many. No hangover, but if he kept it up, eventually, yeah.
That morning he'd had to remind himself why he was there. Daiyu. Cherones' cousin. And his contact. One of the reasons, anyway. He still hoped to find one of the magic users. Part of him knew they'd not have answers for him. How could they? Realistically, they ran the gamut in terms of age and experience, from what he'd seen in the news.
Still, they had more than him. And he wanted answers. And to feel again.
He gave his name to the receptionist. His contact had sent ahead to the administrator of the Guardian. Very likely he'd be put off with a functionary. But it was a start.
He took a deep breath, glad that he didn't look as bad as he felt. Energy was running thin, these days and he wasn't sure how long he'd last. He pulled out his wallet to bring up the news as he waited.