count, Egyptian cotton sheets I'd ordered from Amazon.
After an ugly scene during which I’d had a meltdown and thrown articles of Tim’s and his lover’s clothing out an open window, they’d both stormed out, wrapped up in my good sheets. Tim shook his fist at me from the lawn and yelled up at me that it was his fucking house, so I needed to get my shit out and be gone by the time he got back. Truthfully, it hadn't been going well with me and Tim for a while anyway, but I'd liked to pretend that we were just having a little dry spell, and we could work things out. Seemed like Tim had different ideas.
I never did get those sheets back either.
I’d removed myself to a hotel, and I’d been single ever since. I had started looking for apartments the next day and found a fairly cheap one near my work. Since I didn’t have much in the way of furniture, I was able to move right in, bringing with me my clothes, my laptop, a TV and a set of china my mother had left me. Everything else had belonged to Tim. I’d had enough money in my bank account after paying the deposit on the new apartment to buy a bed, a desk and a chest of drawers to put my TV on. I figured those were the necessities, and I could always buy more later on. It had been a year, and I still hadn’t found enough extra money to buy living room furniture.
I felt like I had stalled out somewhere in my early twenties, and I just couldn’t seem to get my engine revving again.
Over the next few weeks, Tori took me first to one of the “munch,” things, a kind of meet and greet put on by a club she belonged to, which was nice, but I wanted to see the real thing in action. So I asked her to take me to her actual club, and she did—several times. At first, I just sat at her table observing, and then took an uber back home early. It wasn’t that I wasn’t interested—or fascinated—by what I’d seen. I was. I just didn’t feel ready to do anything about it yet. At least not quite yet. I had plans to act on my interest eventually. Once I got the lay of the land, so to speak. Once I learned the ropes and watched the other Doms in action.
Tori offered to train me, but I thought that would be too weird since we worked together. Besides, I was looking for a relationship, and she was a woman. A beautiful one, but not the right gender for me, and she was another Dominant, so I didn’t see how that would work. She explained that I’d need to work with another Dominant to train and observe. “Sometimes the best way to do that is to even act as his submissive for a short time. To see what a sub goes through.”
I rejected that theory out of hand. No way. I’d be willing to train and observe, of course, but I saw no need to act submissive. That was carrying things too far.
Tori said I had a lot to learn, but she also said she'd help me find someone to train with. And the two of us—the other Dom and I—could work out the details. I told her I'd let her know as soon as I was ready. In the meantime, I decided to spend my time at the club looking for the perfect submissive—for future reference. And trying to figure out exactly what the perfect Dom looked and acted like. I figured I'd probably know instinctively what to do when the time came, but I still wasn’t sure how I’d know when that time might actually arrive, and I’d feel ready to embark on my new interest.
I already knew I'd be a good Dom and give my sub what they wanted. Of course, I'd demand they spend all their time with me, but I wouldn't be too harsh with them or push them too much. That just wasn't me. I'd never humiliate them or punish them physically. Even though the thought of a bare hand spanking to a sub made me excited, I didn’t think I should push my own agenda on anyone else. I shared my theory with Tori, and she gave me an odd look and said, “Jordy, you do know what a Dom does,