For the Love of April French Page 6

  He pressed his mouth to her ear. “Are you okay?”

  “All green, Sir,” she murmured back. That wasn’t exactly what he meant, but it surely wasn’t the time or place to push her about it. In the noise and heat of the dance floor he just put his arms around her and pulled her in close, trying to fill that bubble with affirmation; with the sense that she was enough.

  April

  Dancing was a good chance to reset. She was getting lost in her own head, forgetting to be sensible. She knew perfectly well Caroline wasn’t trying to intrude or push her out or show off. Caroline wasn’t competing with her.

  Caroline didn’t have to. She was seven years younger, curvier, prettier, and cis. Caroline just had to show up.

  She was getting clingy with someone who she had no claim on. He was handsome, and sexy, and deeply kind—and their kinks aligned. That was fantastic. He would be a good friend, and if he wanted more sometimes that would be a lovely bonus, but she had known from the start that the club was full of Carolines and he would meet them eventually. She just happened to be there first. Being jealous was a waste of time; she just had to enjoy this while it lasted.

  The sooner she got her head around that, the sooner this could go back to being fun. His arms around her and the lean heat of his body soothed the agitation in her heart even as it stoked the tensions further down.

  When they came back to the bar, Jason and Caroline were still there, and one of Jason’s irregular doms had turned up to flirt, Tony Something. Dennis took a Jack and Coke from Jason and they slid back into the conversation, which was about the upcoming Shibari demonstration. April was able to give some helpful commentary. “We aren’t getting the whole show, actually,” she said, “because the bar doesn’t have the right hard points for suspension.”

  “I have to pee,” Caroline announced. “Are you coming, April?”

  “Yeah, sure.” She grabbed her purse and followed. She did not in fact have to pee—she’d barely touched her drink—but she appreciated being included and used the time to check her makeup.

  “So quick work with the new hottie,” said Caroline approvingly, from inside a stall. “You met him earlier, huh?”

  “Wednesday,” she agreed, inspecting her face for shadows or roughness under her foundation.

  Caroline audibly rolled her eyes at her reticence. “Uh-huh. And what happened?”

  “Some stuff, you know. We hooked up.”

  “What. Girl. How’s the dick?”

  “I’m not going to...”

  “I would tell you,” said Caroline pragmatically. “So, this is a second date?”

  “What? No. We just... I told him I’d be here tonight. We’d both be here either way. I don’t think he’s...” It seemed too complicated to mention the dress. He had money. Some people got off on spending it that way.

  “You sure, hun? Because he seems a little smitten.”

  “Don’t make fun,” April muttered under her breath. Louder: “No. It was just a hookup. He’s a free agent. Nothing exclusive.” It was never exclusive for her. It was safer that way, because no matter what was said sooner or later it would stop being exclusive. No expectations meant no one got hurt.

  “Huh. Good to know.” A beat. “You sure, though? I mean, I know you don’t have—”

  Oh Lord, the last thing she needed was pity. “We’re all grown-ups, Caroline.” Some of us for longer than others. “Do what you want.” She pushed her way out of the bathroom and back into a solid wall of noise.

  When she returned to the main room, the cluster at the bar had become a crowd in one of the club’s large circular booths. Jason’s group of friends, along with a healthy number of curious regulars and strangers, were squeezed into seats or lounging nearby.

  She thought seriously about just leaving. He obviously didn’t need her anymore. But—she looked down again at the dress. He’d made a simple and clear-cut investment. She would stay, and she would hang around, and maybe if he didn’t leave with someone else—

  “April!” He was calling her over, flagging her down, and she came over to the booth. “Let me—” He looked around, but the young man behind him chatting with Jason didn’t seem to hear him and the girl sitting next to him showed no inclination to move. “Hm, come here.”

  “It’s fine, I’m...fine,” she heard herself saying, but he leaned across the table and grabbed her hand and pulled her into the booth. Onto his lap.

  “Dennis, I’m too big for this,” she whispered.

  “No you aren’t.” He turned her sideways, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her up. Helplessly she put an arm around his neck to stabilize the arrangement and leaned her head forward against his. She realized he’d brought her drink and took a big gulp. He dropped one large hand high up on her thigh as he resumed his conversation.

  She exhaled and let herself fold into him; closed her eyes for a while and let the buzzing of her thoughts subside. Part of her was waiting for him to realize that she was indeed too big, or that he wanted privacy. But it never came. He wanted her here, and she was where he wanted her. It was...perfect.

  Dennis

  April was quiet at first; at one point he thought she might have fallen asleep. He was fine with it. She certainly wasn’t petite, but she was no burden. Holding her on his lap felt good. Felt dominant and tender all at once. He had placed his hand on her thigh exactly over the tattoo just at the hem of her skirt and could feel her pulse rushing under his fingertips.

  She came to life suddenly, waving as a lesbian couple walked past, both dressed in latex. One was a plump older Latina woman, and she had a college-aged white girl on a leash. “Mistress Sandra! Grace! Hi!”

  “April! How are you, my dear?” The older woman reached out a hand to stroke April’s crowning bun delicately and stole a speculative glance at Dennis. He met her gaze but tightened his arm around April’s waist infinitesimally.

  “I’m wonderful,” April said, clicking into her deferential submissive tone immediately. “This is Dennis. He’s new in town—he’s a friend of Jason’s.”

  “And yours, it seems.” Sandra smiled and handed the leash to her companion, who smiled back and immediately circled around the back of the booth to get closer to April. The domme had a firm handshake. “Sandra Barreras. How are you?”

  “I’m good. Getting used to Austin. I like your club,” he said.

  “It’s a nice place,” she agreed. She definitely had presence as a domme, from her statuesque curves to her waterfall of black hair. An undefinable air of sternness. “And are you enjoying our April?”

  “I’d say we’re enjoying each other,” he said cautiously. Was this an ex-girlfriend? Or a meet the parents–type scenario?

  “Well put,” she said, with a rich laugh. “What do you do when you aren’t a throne for pretty girls?”

  He could live with being April’s throne, he thought. “I’m in technology. What about you?”

  “My wife and I run a restaurant, Deedee’s Place. Keeps me pretty busy, but I try to swing by here now and then.”

  “Ahh, and is this—” He gestured to the collared white girl. She had seemed excited to talk to April, but now both submissives were on their phones, albeit occasionally looking up to make eye contact. April’s hands were moving in a more subdued version of her usual animation, probably to avoid clubbing him with her phone.

  Sandra shook her head and laughed again. “No, this is Grace. My wife is a vanilla woman, but she allows me...”

  “A little grace?” said Dennis, quirking an eyebrow.

  “Dear God. April,” Sandra said, in a firm voice, and he felt April jerk as her head swiveled around. “If he makes another pun like that you must leave him.” April looked back and forth between the two dominants and ducked her head.

  “I’ll take it under advisement,” she muttered into his lapel.

  San
dra snorted, and relaxed back into a smile. “Disobedient creature. But yes, she gives me a little latitude to indulge myself, when I can spare the time. Grace is my current indulgence.”

  “Yes—” Dennis twisted his head to try to include the fourth person in the conversation. “Pleased to meet you, Grace.” But Grace was looking at her phone and didn’t respond. He slanted a look at Sandra, surprised. He wasn’t offended, exactly, but the domme seemed like the kind to demand more discipline than that.

  “She’s Deaf,” Sandra explained, just as Grace raised her head and gave Dennis an embarrassed wave and inclined her head. She signed something to Sandra, who nodded and translated. “April told her what you said. She’s pleased to meet you.”

  Ahh. That certainly made sense of some things. “Have you been together long?”

  “Less than a year,” said Sandra. “Part of my arrangement with my wife is that the commitments don’t last long. Although we may play together again sometime.” Her eyes flicked to April again, and Dennis nodded.

  He’d known couples with arrangements like that before. And that made sense of the relationship with April. He filed her subtle prickliness as a protective feeling for a former sub, which made sense. He felt sure he’d feel that way about April if he saw her with someone else, even after their short time together.

  He also found he didn’t like thinking about seeing her with someone else. Hmm.

  “Well, if your time is limited, I shouldn’t take up too much of it,” he said. “Very pleased to meet you, though.”

  When Sandra and Grace made their way on to their own table, April settled back against him and put her phone back in her clutch. She made a pleased sound but didn’t say anything.

  “They seemed nice,” he said. “Have you known them long?”

  “I met Mistress Sandra when I first came to Austin and found Frankie’s,” she said. “She’s lovely, the nicest sadist you’ll ever meet. We had a lot of fun but like she said, she has an expiration date. Grace, I don’t know very well; they haven’t come in that often. Sandra doesn’t have a lot of time away from the restaurant, so they usually make it, uh, impactful, while it lasts.” She giggled.

  Dennis narrowed his eyes at her. “Impactful. Does that make us even on the pun front?”

  April blinked demurely. “I don’t know what you mean, Sir.”

  “Disobedient creature,” he growled in her ear, and was rewarded with a little shiver.

  As the night wore on, a tidal drift of clubgoers flowed around the booth. From her perch on Dennis’s lap, April greeted and introduced old friends, recent arrivals, various subs and doms and switches of her acquaintance. Other times she settled back, curled against his chest, and allowed him to make conversation without her; Jason had a lot of people he wanted to introduce as well, and she seemed happy to be ornamental when she didn’t have anything particular to say. Spaces in the booth came and went, but she didn’t make a move to reposition herself and neither did Dennis.

  Close to midnight, a baby-faced white man in casual clothes entered the bar, looked around and headed straight for their table. He slumped into a recently vacated chair, only the top of his tousled dark hair visible, and April sprang forward once again. “Oh no, Max, what happened?” she asked. She glanced back at Dennis. “This is Max. Max, this is Dennis.”

  “Gavin broke it off,” the young man muttered to the table.

  “Oh no,” April said. It sounded heartfelt. “I thought things were going so well.”

  Dennis kept his arms around her waist, not sure he had a part in this conversation.

  “He’s been chatting with some other dom on FetLife,” Max said, and Dennis winced. The boy was a stranger, but that was a blow any dominant could empathize with. April’s response was more dramatic; she braced one hand on Dennis’s shoulder as she half-stood in the booth and waved at the bartender.

  “Aerith, I think we need some shots over here!” She turned back to the young dom and began to commiserate. Dennis smiled inwardly; he could absolutely see what Caroline and Jason meant when they described her as the den mother of the club, but if that was supposed to mean she wasn’t desirable, then there must be something wrong with him. She was an effervescent mix of warmth and kindness and sweet submissive heat.

  When the shots had been shot and his sorrows poured out, Max wandered off glumly. April turned back to Dennis with an apologetic smile. “Poor kid.”

  “Another old friend?” he asked.

  “Well, I’ve known him for a bit,” she said. “We haven’t played together if that’s what you mean. He’s only interested in boys. Sorry if I got distracted.”

  “Absolutely no problem,” he assured her. He liked seeing her like this. He wondered if she was like this at work, too; if she was the person who always had five minutes to get coffee when you needed to talk, or an aspirin in her desk, or an idea of where to find a shark costume for a fifth-grade pageant on short notice. Or was this place her element in some unique way? “So, have you always been a Wendy?”

  “Oh,” she said, and looked thoughtful. “Not always. It’s a lot easier to like people when they know your big secret and are cool about it. Before I transitioned, I was kind of a misanthrope.”

  “I can’t believe that,” he said. He hadn’t really thought about a pre-transition April, but he’d assumed she was pretty much the same.

  “No, it’s true. I’d worked at my job since I got out of college, but nobody knew who I was. I think I had about six people on my transition email other than the people in my physical office. And I think a bunch of them probably said, ‘who?’” She smiled crookedly.

  “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want,” he said. She nodded quickly, and he second-guessed himself. “We can if you want, too. But I know your past might be...”

  She nodded again, looking brighter, and kissed his cheek. “It just seems like another life now.”

  Could he understand that? He wasn’t sure. There were certainly events in his life that drew a line; he would always have a Before Sonia and an After Sonia; a Before One Million Dollars and an After. But he was still the same person, still the only Black kid in Pulaski High School, even if now he was the only Black man in boardrooms and C suites. Still working like hell and working twice as hard not to let anyone see him sweat.

  “Do you think of it as being a different person?” he asked.

  “I don’t think he was ever anyone,” she said. “Just someone who had a lot of problems and wasn’t very happy and wasn’t even a real person for the trouble. But he kept us alive until I could... I could take over. I have to respect that.” She took a gulp of her drink.

  He considered. “Where were you while all this was happening? Or is that the wrong question? I know it’s not really a split personality.”

  “I was there,” she said, looking thoughtful. Looking vulnerable in a way that made him want to protect her from the world. “I was somewhere, I guess. Nobody ever asked me that before.” She studied his lapel. “I was hiding, I guess.”

  He kissed the side of her head and gave her a squeeze. “Are you ready to get out of here? Should I settle up?”

  She leaned in even closer, smelling of rum and citrus and faint feminine sweat. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered in his ear. He deposited her gently in an open space and slid out of the booth.

  He ran into her friend Caroline at the bar. “So,” she said, as the bartender-who-wasn’t-Aerith processed his card. “What’s the deal with you and April?”

  She’d definitely had a drink or three since he last saw her. “She’s a delightful woman. I want to get to know her better.”

  “Mm-hm,” she said. “Just her?”

  Was this woman asking after his intentions or making a play for him herself? He frowned. “I mostly try to take life one thing at a time,” he temporized. Just her, he realized. I think just her.


  “Two at a time can be nice,” she mused. “But okay. I hope you mean it. I really do. Maybe Mama April deserves a guy like you for being such a good girl all the time.”

  “You don’t even know who I am,” he said with a frown. “You don’t know what kind of guy I am.”

  “Good point!” she said. “Then I guess you better try to be the kind she deserves.”

  April

  For the first time all night, April’s butt was on a cushion instead of Dennis’s thighs. She felt slightly unsteady. That might be the rum, but she was pretty sure it was the hormones. Pheromones. Whatever. The club was beginning to clear out; the booth certainly was. What a lovely evening this had turned out to be. Dennis was talking to Caroline at the bar and she forgot to even feel jealous.

  Then Jason Beaumont sidled around the curve of the booth and leaned in to talk to her. They’d had a few brief conversations over the night, but she still didn’t feel like she could add anything to the description she’d walked in with: rich gay power bottom, more committed to the club itself than to any of his lovers, dresses like he’s fourteen.

  “Hey,” he said, his breath full of vodka Red Bull. “I wanted to talk to you quick about D.”

  Oh Lord. She couldn’t see how this could be good. “I know he’s your best friend,” she said.

  Jason’s mouth moved briefly, as if he was trying to choose his words carefully through alcoholic mists. “Just...be careful.”

  She stiffened. “I’m always careful, Jason.”

  “I just meant...he went through a real bastard of a breakup last year. It was his only serious kinky relationship. He’s trying to get his head straight now. And I just...”

  “I get it,” she said, probably too low to hear over the music.

  “I’m not sure you...” Jason mopped his hand over his face. “Just be careful, yeah?”

  “I’m always careful,” she repeated, sliding away, out of the booth. What if I’m sick of being careful?