© 2023 Bostonleatherman

…mostly because you’re in tight leather and boots, already sweating, and it’s 90-something degrees outside. Fuck.

“Here, lemme help you with those.”

A man younger than you, heavier than you, and taller than you starts to take the cradled bottles out of your arms and carry them to the available register. But not before uttering “Fuck off, you little shits” just loud enough for the little shits to hear. They step around us, drop their bottles of soda and bag of chips at “your” register and push through the doors and go out onto the street. You’re afraid to look at him.

“Are you OK?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

He scans the five bottles of water, pays for them, double bags them, picks up the bag, and nods toward the door with his head. You follow him out the door. You scan the street up and down for the two boys, still shaken from the experience you’ve just had.

“I don’t think they’re around.”

“Well, not that we can see.”

“Trust me, punks like that just need to be called on their shit. They’re gone. And probably figuring out how to spin the story of the fag they bullied this afternoon, which will have a different ending, I’m sure.”

You blush and offer a half-smile, not looking at him.

“I get it. I’ve been there. Where do you live?”

‘I’ve been there’ you think. Who is this guy?

“Ummm, up the street a few blocks. I mean, I’m staying up the street. I mean, I’m visiting a friend who’s staying up the street. No, I mean lives up the street. A few blocks. I’m staying with him. He lives there and I’m staying with him. And I’m making him dinner. Tonight. That’s why I was at the market. But I forgot his bottled water. And had to go back. And-”

“And that’s when you met me. Let me walk you up the street. Just to be on the safe side.” Said with a wink.

“Thank you. I’d really appreciate that. If you don’t mind. I’m still a little frazzled.”

“No problem. Happy to. I’m Alexander.”

“The great.”

“What’s that?”

“The great. You’re Alexander the Great.” Oh, jeez, did you just say that? “I’m Luke.”

“Good to meet you, Luke.” Alexander extends his hand.

You reach for it with your left because you’re holding your groceries in your right arm. “Likewise.” Oh, jeez. You both smile and start walking in the direction of Garrett’s.

Alexander pulls out a pack of Reds from his back pocket and brings it up to his mouth and fishes one out with his teeth. “Do you mind?” he says as he gestures with the pack of Reds.

“No, not at all.”

“Want one?” He’s edged one out of the pack with his thumb and offers it to you.

“Yes, Sir. Thanks.” you say as you take it and put it in your mouth.

“Sir?”

“Sorry, force of habit.” You both smile. The pack goes back in his back pocket and he fishes a Zippo out of his right front pocket, lights your Red and then his.

“No need to be sorry. ‘Boy.’” You both smile again. “So, interesting attire for a trip to the market. In the sun. On a hot day. I have to admit, I’m intrigued. I saw you on the street and followed you into the market. I guess it’s a good thing I did.” <<Wink.>>

“You mean you weren’t there to buy anything?” You blush and wonder what and how much to tell Alexander. You smoke your Red as you walk down the street and ponder it. “Well… I, um… It’s…”

“I’m kidding. Don’t worry, I get it. ‘Boy.’” Alexander nudges you and winks at the same time. Who is this guy, you wonder?

And then you’re at Garrett’s apartment building. You stop and drop your butt in the gutter. Alexander drops his to the sidewalk and crushes it under his shoe. “Well, this is me. Thanks for walking with me.”

As you reach to take the bag full of water bottles, Alexander asks, “Are you staying with Garrett, by any chance?”

“I am… how do you know Garrett?”

“God, I’ve known him forever, it seems. He sometimes writes for a local paper that I edit.”

“Theatre reviews.”

“Exactly. Tell him I said hello. And not to be a stranger. Now, go. Get yourself out of this heat before you melt in front of me.”

“I will. Thanks for your help earlier. And the smoke.”

Alexander gives you a little two-finger salute, turns and heads up the street. You cross the street to Garrett’s building and ring his buzzer to be let in. The door clicks almost at the same moment you put your finger on the buzzer. As you head to the elevator and wait, you let the lobby’s air conditioning do its thing. Gently. It’s gotta be several thousand BTUs less than what was pumping through the market. Maybe tens of thousands. It feels good on your skin.

The bell dings, announcing the elevator’s arrival and you automatically step aside to let the riders exit. It’s instinct. But what instinct? Your ingrained, some might say natural, politeness? Or one that’s driven by self-preservation – to go unobserved in all your leather? Right. With any luck. Regardless, the point is moot; there’s no one in the elevator. Luck is finally on your side. You step in and push the button. The doors close, then open again. Someone made a dash to the elevator from the front door and caught it before it ascended. You step away from the panel and let them choose their floor – Two – never taking your eyes off your boots. WTF? They couldn’t walk one flight? They exit quickly, perhaps as put off by seeing your gear as you are by them seeing you in it. The doors close and then open shortly on Four. You exit as quickly as the last passenger did, stepping out, turning right and heading quickly down the hall to Garrett’s apartment. His door is ajar and you let yourself in, close the door and throw the bolt, safely locking you inside. And let out a sigh of relief.

Garrett is on the balcony, smoking one of his many pipes and talking on the phone. The air conditioning in his apartment is a little cooler than the lobby but nowhere near as cold as the market. It feels good. The sweat on your head and neck has pretty much evaporated between your trip from the lobby and up to his apartment. But your back, chest, pits, ass, and crotch still feel damp under your leathers, though. But they’ll dry out eventually. You head to the kitchen and set your bags on the counter. What a relief it is to have that weight off you. You unpack the water and put two of them in the fridge, leave one on the counter for yourself, and open the cupboard to store the other two next to the others in the cupboard. The others in the cupboard. WTF! Garrett wasn’t out of water! There are two big bottles right there! Motherfucker.

You unpack the other ingredients and lay them on the counter next to the stove in the order of how you’ll use them. The paper bags are folded and placed next to the recycling bin. The sliding glass door opens and Garrett comes in and walks over and stands in the kitchen door.

“How was your trip to the market?”

“Fine.” You’ll tell him about it another time. You just want to forget the whole thing right now.

“You know you still had a couple bottles of water in the cupboard?”

“I must have forgotten.”

It was another one of his “challenges.” But this one came as a complete surprise. But it shouldn’t have, knowing Garrett. Well played, you. Keep things unpredictable. That’s something you like, generally, but you’re not finding this one particularly funny or exciting at the moment. If only he knew. Which, apparently, he does…

“That was Alexander on the phone.”

“Oh. Nice guy.”

“Yes, he is. He told me about what was happening to you at the market.”

“And did he tell you how humiliated I was the whole time, going to, and from, and then back to, the market?”

“Well, no, not about that. But about what was going on when he approached. I’m very sorry about that. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re that villainous. I’m just glad Alexander stepped in when he did.”

“I am, too. That was never my intention. In all honesty, I thought you’d enjoy the experience. Without the harassment, of course. You’re always telling me how you want to be pushed, challenged, break a self-imposed limit.”

Garrett had a point. You fantasize about a lot of things and do indeed like to push yourself. But whatever you’re playing at, you usually only take it ‘so far.’ Which is not a bad thing. But you wonder how much you actually limit yourself in your experience with auto-kink. As you start to think about it further, now that you’re feeling safe again, today’s humiliation is a case in point. You know it gave you a thrill when Garrett made you go out in public in all that leather. Well, he didn’t make you. You had a choice. (But did you really?) It’s not that you don’t go out geared up. You do, but it’s always been at night, or with other leathermen at an event. This is the first time you’ve worn your gear in broad daylight. In public. You’re the horse he led to water. But he didn’t have to make you drink. You chose to drink. Deep down, you must have known you were playing with one fetish in order to protect the other. Garrett knows how to set you up.

“I guess you’re right. It was all in the service of protecting my points. Well, not ‘all’ – I did kinda enjoy the humiliation on my walk; on some level. But I did not enjoy being harassed by two teenagers in front of everyone in the market. It was scary and, I think, a bridge too far.”

“Absolutely. I won’t put you in that situation again.”

“Thank you. I should get going on dinner.”

“Um, it’s a little early, no?”

“Not really. It’s better the longer it simmers. What time would you like to eat?”

“7.”

“That’ll work well. Let me get to it.”

“Come into the study for a moment before you get underway.”

“Yes, Sir.” You follow Garrett down to the study with a pretty good sense of the reason why. Your suspicion is confirmed; padded cuffs, locks, and chains are laid out on his desk.

“Before you lock up, one other thing…”