Page 79 of No Pucks

I growl about to say something when the curtains pull back and the tables cheer.

Krista scoots her chair close to me to give her a better view. “We can talk, we just can’t be loud.”

But it’s a little hard to continue a conversation when a guy brings out another guy and straps him to an iron cross. I think that’s what that’s called.

“This is only an ish sex club? This looks full on sex club to me.” I lean in. “And this is not what I would have expected at a place like this.” The age range is out there. There are all types of people here.

“I mean that not all of the patrons are immersed as the stage show. It’s a safe place to enjoy a show and a drink for like-minded people or, you know, be naked or whatever.” She doesn’t seem fazed.

Now I need to know how well she knows the scene.

I glance over at her. “How do you discover these places?”

“I leave my apartment, Anthony.”

“Well, that’s fair, because I don’t,” I mutter, returning my gaze to some light flogging on stage, and I have to admit it’s hot. Now I’m thinking of Logan again. “Fuck.”

“Good, right?” Krista sips her drink out of her tiny mixing straw, eyes glued to the stage.

“I think this is telling me more about you than I ever wanted to know.” I finish my drink, and as if the servers are hovering, I’m asked if I want another. The only way I’m going to get Logan out of my head is alcohol, so I order a double.

Krista does too. “So why haven’t you talked to him?”

“Why are you backing out of dates?”

“This is not college and tit for tat. You came here because you needed to talk.”

“I came here for a distraction!” It feels good to be right. I focus on the new glass the server sets down in front of me while trying not to look at the stage too much. It’s only making me want Logan on his knees. “Isn’t this weird?” Maybe changing the subject will help. I’m not sure I’ve made sense of what the solution to my possessiveness with Logan could possibly be, and I don’t know how to talk about it.

“Is what weird?” Krista spares me a glance.

“You’re just watching a man get beaten. Is this something casual to do on a first date? Or like with friends?” It isn’t exactly sex, so I’m getting more of the ish. Only the man’s ass cheeks and thighs are visible. It’s kinky but not sex, which hasn’t been a distinction in my brain before, but now I can see how they are separated.

“It can be for like-minded people. And it was a second date.”

I turn towards her. “And what was the red flag? Because I’m starting to think it was a green flag.”

“All flags are scary when you’re a mentally ill workaholic.”

“I can’t even argue with you.” How many of both have I probably ignored over the years?

“I answered, so now it’s your turn.”

I sigh. “Because what do I say? I want something we can’t have? A relationship that’s impossible to have in public for the next three and a half years? I’m a fling for him, a passing curiosity.”

“So that’s the real issue here. You’re worried he’s going to get bored.”

“No, not really. But when it does fade, how will it end? In a hookup while out with the team?”

She finally turns away from the show, studying my face. “You have feelings for him, don’t you?”

I look away. “I’m not sure I remember what feelings feel like.”

“Don’t give me bullshit.”

“I think so. He’s different from anyone else I’ve ever met. He’s happy and upbeat, and he doesn’t let stuff drag him down, even dealing with his father. How he can have a good outlook on life after dealing with that asshole his whole life is insane to me, but he does.”

“And he’s hot as fuck.” She looks at me out of the corner of her gaze.

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