La Maison 1: Colors (Complete: manxman)

39 - Mind made up

* * * * *

Francois passes me a drink from the waiter's tray.

"You going to play tonight? Elliott is in. I know he'd love to scene with you."

"Don't think so, not tonight."

Elliott's a sub I've just finished training. Good, excellent responses, incredibly sweet and submissive. Not my type at all, especially not these days. Responses, yes. But meekness, no. It's turning into a bit of a turn off and I'm concerned about what that means for my lifestyle. I know I don't want a brat either. And I'm getting worried about what that means for me.

In a bout of 'physician; heal thyself' I had a long look at what has been bringing me down. I'm lonely: a situation that has been brought into sharp relief since Amir and Gabriel left the house. I want someone who will be in my life, who will be part of my life, not simply a prettily adorned accoutrement. Which means I don't want just a submissive, I want a boyfriend.

It isn't like I didn't know that already, but it makes me realize that this isn't some vague desire for the future, this is something I want now, soon at least. And I have no idea how to go about it.

My friends aren't helping. Saturday has become our regular night at the club – I mean, it always was, but since everyone paired off it's unofficially become the night when every one of them comes, unintentionally flaunting their happiness in my face. And less unintentionally tries to pair me up with someone.

I resist, though, and it isn't difficult. I'm certainly getting my sexual needs met by all the training so I can withstand their less than subtle attempts with ease.

"I'm thinking of going back to school," I tell Frankie.

"Huh, college? Why, another doctorate?"

"No, like community college. I don't know, art classes, or conversational Italian, or something."

"Why?" Frankie sounds incredulous.

"Help meet new people. Maybe I should try having friends outside the lifestyle."

"Friends, or boyfriends?"

"Maybe that, I don't know."

Frankie sighs, nodding to Ellis who's asked if he can go dance, and I go back to sipping my drink, trying to work out where I'm going wrong.

* * * * *

Ellis is in the mood to dance. Well, he's always in the mood to dance but he's spotted Owen coming into the club, wearing an unusually casual outfit of skinny purple jeans and a tight black v-neck that shows off his recently acquired musculature, and he's in the mood to dance with him.

He runs over, pulling Owen into a hug.

"I'm so glad you came, I wasn't sure you would."

It's been a few weeks since Owen had shown his face, and he's been strangely cryptic in messages too, claiming an overabundance of extra shifts at the hospital.

He has a pout on his face now, which is confusing to Ellis as he's usually so calm and sweet, with a ready smile.

"Are you allowed a drink, Ellis?"

Ellis runs to ask Frankie and is told he can have two drinks tonight, so he needs to make them last. That's fair enough, he's planning on scening hard later, no way he wants to be drunk. At Owen's suggestion he has them both in one go – a delicious but strong cocktail that's the specialty of Jax, the barman.