Connor's Journey, a Velvet Glove story
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by Sean Michael
Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Romance
Description: Connor attends a friend's pre-commitment send-off at the Velvet Glove, and he knows he's out of place, but is determined to enjoy his one night among the rich. Then he meets Desmond, a regular member, who wants to show him everything about being a sub if he'll take a five year contract. It beats his old job, but can he do the things Desmond wants him to? Originally published on the Turn of the Screw serial service, and in print in Velvet Glove, Volume 1.
eBook Publisher: Torquere Press/Screwdriver, 2011 www.torquerepress.com
eBookwise Release Date: January 2012
24 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [165 KB]
Reading time: 103-144 min.
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Connor Is Propositioned
Oh, man, this place was...
Connor looked around from his perch in the corner. When Micah had invited him to the pre-commitment send-off, he'd been a little nervous, but sort of eager, too. He'd heard the food at the Velvet Glove was amazing, the booze wasn't watered down and that the shows were... memorable.
Memorable was right.
He wasn't a virgin. Hell, he wasn't even inexperienced, but tonight he'd watched this huge man lead another through the room by his cock, and no one even cared. Wow.
Micah leaned over and nudged his shoulder. "Having fun?"
"Yeah. Yeah. Music's good. I... This place is something else."
Micah nodded furiously, curls bobbing. "Yeah. I mean, can you imagine? Leading someone around like that? I mean, do you know anyone who would let you do that back home?"
The thought made Connor laugh. Oh, right. Like anyone in their neighborhood would ever. That's why they were here. In the city. In this club.
"You want to dance, Con? Vic and I are going to."
"Yeah. Okay. Let me finish my drink and I'll find you." He was a little short and klutzy to be dancing, but if he gave Micah and Vic ten minutes they'd be all starry-eyed for each other and he could hang and people watch.
As he watched Micah and Vic head to the dance floor, a deep, even voice sounded at his elbow. "I was wondering if you would share your table?"
Connor looked up, nodding and smiling politely before he even met the stranger's eyes. "Sure. In fact, I'm just finishing my drink and then you can have the whole thing. It's a good table, almost private. Out of the traffic."
The stranger gave him a soft, enigmatic smile. "I know."
"Oh? You've been here before, I guess." Connor pinked a little, but shrugged. He was a newbie. It had to show, no reason to be embarrassed by it.
"Indeed. You might say this is 'my' table." The man was tall and nicely built with short brown hair and warm brown eyes. "Desmond Filgree," the man told him, hand held out.
"Connor Dean." He stood, took the man's hand. "Did we take your table? The waitstaff brought us here."
Desmond shook his head. "I had not reserved it, and as I am alone tonight, I am quite happy to share." The man leaned in too closely and seemed to almost purr at him. "It's the perfect place to people watch."
Connor blinked and took a half step back, then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I was thinking that." Man, these uptowners had the weirdest sense of personal space.
"Well then, shall we?" Desmond held out Connor's chair for him. ENDEXCERPT