Chapter 145: Stephon
Matt's phone call didn't dull Stephon's jealousy, and hearing Jewel's silky laugh in the background made him crave what Matt had even more. Stephon always thought they'd find the perfect woman together, but now realized it was a stupid assumption. He'd felt Matt's unease for weeks... maybe months, and knew he'd missed Matt's signals. Matt was ready to settle down, and because Stephon didn't like change, he might lose Matt's friendship and the bond they shared with m閚age sex. It was unfair to Matt that he was Stephon's buffer with women. Matt would never let Stephon go too far with a submissive and it gave Stephon the ability to push without the fear of losing control.
The tension behind Stephon's eyes let him know he was on the verge of one of his episodes, and if he didn't relieve some stress his fury would erupt. Giving a low sarcastic laugh, he knew the word "episode" didn't come close to describing the simmering rage that hid below the surface. A head shrink once told him he suffered PTSD and that was the last time Stephon entered a psychiatrist's office. Putting some collect-all name to his emotional instability since the Gulf War didn't make him feel better. Three things did: music, control, and pain.
Pain came in many forms, and enough lucid thought remained that Stephon found himself at the hotel gym. He stayed on the treadmill for an hour and then hit the weights. He breathed with the steady motion, but couldn't stop the flood of pain-filled thoughts, so he got back on the treadmill and ran until his muscles screamed. And then he ran some more. By the time he made his way to bed, his anger simmered at a tolerable level. He lay in bed trying to put a face to Jewel's laugh, but nothing was quite right. He eventually fell into a restless sleep only to hear her laugh again and again in his dreams.
Matt
He walked into the suite at six thirty that evening only to discover a game of strip poker in full progress. Angela sat in her underwear, if you could call the skimpy piece of lace underwear. Krispin was fully dressed, but Stephon was down to his boxers and socks. Wade, Krispin's personal assistant and go-to man, was shirtless, but at least had pants on.
"Thank God I didn't bring Jewel back to the room. She'd have run out kicking and screaming."
Stephon didn't turn his head. "I'm sure she'd take one look at Krispin and drop at his feet," he said with a humorless laugh and tipped his can of root beer in Matt's direction.
Still no eye contact.
Angela looked between Matt and Stephon with a touch of trepidation. "Hey, I want to like this woman."
Stephon's voice sounded no less annoyed when he spoke directly to Angela, "You'll probably meet her before I do."
Matt ran his hand through his hair. "You let him have root beer?" he said as a joke because the band was clean of alcohol and drugs.
Krispin shook his head. "He's on his third. I'm taking him to AA with me next week."
The can crinkled in Stephon's grip as he stood from the table. He then walked into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
Krispin's annoyance came through loud and clear. "Fix this, Matt. We have four gigs this weekend and don't need the drama." He started packing the chips away.
Matt looked between the three of them, their irritation obvious. "I'll take care of it."
"Good." This time Wade spoke up.
Matt crossed to the bedroom and entered, making a point to softly close the door.
Stephon lay on the bed with his forearm over his eyes. "I'm making an ass of myself, aren't I?"
He seldom saw the uncontrolled side of Stephon. The man practically dripped dominance and self-assurance, even if Matt knew it was an illusion and covered a pain darker than most people could imagine. He needed to talk Stephon down. "She's perfect for us."
"I'm so eaten up with jealousy I can't see straight."
"I'd be the same way, though probably worse."
Stephon's arm slipped from his eyes and he sounded completely defeated. "Sleep in here tonight and tell me all about her."
"And watch you jack off to the details?"
Stephon sat up and pinpointed Matt with his stare. "I think I deserve it."
Matt took a deep breath. "Yeah, you probably do."
"Go down to the club with me first. Damian set me up with a Dom who likes to get rough. I need a little aggression worked out of me."
Matt released his breath with a long sigh. Being a true sadomasochist, Stephon's need for pain was as strong as his need to give it. Matt liked a little slap and tickle, but when it came to giving or taking pain at the level Stephon needed, he was incapable. Delaying didn't help his friend, and it was never good when Stephon made arrangements for a session. "Let's go."
"I need to shower and change, though I'm sure my socks and underwear make me look cute."
Matt let out a low laugh. "There's nothing sexy about your damn Joe Jock look."
As musicians, there was no remark as low as a jock reference.
"You'll pay for that later." A smile finally tipped Stephon's lips.
***
The club was crowded for a Monday night. He and Stephon watched the subs on the carousel for a minute then walked around and checked out a few scenes. Kyle, the Dom recommended by Damian, was in the back farthest play area administering a three-foot single tail on a writhing woman. A collared sub kneeled to the side of the alcove and watched closely.
The woman taking the beating sobbed loudly, but Kyle continued to make her dance.
"Hi." The sub's voice was soft.
Matt looked at the pretty woman dressed in a black leather corset, lace panties, and black thigh highs. She wore more than most of the subs at the club. Matt answered because he knew she wouldn't talk to him if her Dom didn't want her to. "Do you think he'll be up to paying some attention to my friend when he's done?"
"If your friend is Stephon, Damian made an appointment."
The whip stopped its steady crack and Kyle looked over. "Are you speaking to someone without my permission, kitten?"
"Yes, Sir."
"We'll take care of that slip of protocol later."
"Yes, Sir." She didn't seem appropriately terrified and only gave an innocent grin. Kyle walked over, grabbed a towel to wipe his face and chest, and crooked his finger for her to stand. When she was in front of him, head down, he lifted her chin and gave her a tender kiss. "You just want a punishment."
"Yes, Sir, I do."
Kyle laughed then turned to Matt and Stephon. "Which one of you is next?"
Matt put his palms out, shaking his head.
Kyle ignored Stephon for a moment and nodded to Matt. "Then you get the pleasure of helping my sub, Trisha, with Cheryl." He turned to the woman beside him. "Kitten, take care of her and stay until she's okay."
"Yes, Sir."
Matt helped remove Cheryl from the restraints and held her up on one side while Trisha took the other. They half carried her to the couch in a quiet alcove around the corner. Trisha removed a soft blanket and lotion from a cabinet while Matt laid Cheryl down on the towel-covered cushions. Her sobbing was quieter now, but Matt had no good place to touch her because of the welts lining her shoulders, back, and ass. He settled on stroking her arm.
Trisha came back and went to her knees beside the couch. "I'm going to put some lotion on you and then give you orange juice. You with me?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Trisha laughed softly. "Some days I wish I was a ma'am, but I'm just plain Trisha."
"Thank you, Trisha, for sharing Kyle."
"You're actually helping me."
Cheryl gave a soft laugh that ended on a groan when Trisha began rubbing in the lotion.
Matt spoke quietly, trying not to interrupt the moment, "I need to head back over to Stephon."
"Thanks for your help." Trisha looked up and smiled.
"Any time." Matt appreciated that she looked him in the eye. He didn't judge the different rules of those in the lifestyle, but his idea of a sub was a woman like Trisha who didn't cower or hide her feistiness. She reminded him of Jewel.
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