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Part 2

Michael started down the gangplank from the plane, his heart pounding like mad. They’d exchanged pictures--old pictures--and he wasn’t sure what to expect. The pictures he’d seen of Shane were, according to Shane, at least five years old. As he stepped into the terminal waiting area, he wondered if he’d even be able to recognize his co-author at all.

When Michael saw him, he stopped dead in his tracks. His throat became dry and he had to force himself to move again. The man, though older, was positively gorgeous…and ungodly intimidating in person.

"You must be Shane," he said as he walked up, holding a hand out.

A slow look flickered over Michael, putting a faint smile on his lips. Taking Michael’s hand, his fingers curled to it in a firm grasp before releasing it. "That I am. Let’s go get your luggage from the carousel and then get the hell out of here. I need a fucking cigarette."

"I can understand that." Michael glanced over, taking a long, slow look as they walked. Fuck. He was going to stay a week with this man? Oh, God…

Shane led the way to the luggage area downstairs. People were crowded around three of the five carousels as pieces of luggage circled by. The occasional side glance in Michael’s direction had an amused tinge as if the man were aware of Michael’s thoughts. "Did you get the contracts signed and sent in before you left Delaware, Michael? Mine went out yesterday."

"I did. Sent it out first thing this morning." Michael watched the luggage roll by until he finally saw his bag. Suitcase in hand, he turned to Shane. "Ready when you are."

Slipping his hand in his jacket pocket, Shane headed for the exit. As soon as they were outside, he pulled a pack of cigarettes and his lighter out. Stopping for a second to light it, his hand cupped behind the flame of the lighter to keep it from blowing out. Putting them back in his pocket, he resumed walking towards the parking lot. "It’s only a 30 minute drive to my house. Depending on the traffic."

"Cool. You have lunch yet? I haven’t eaten anything since this morning." Michael glanced over at Shane, unable to stop watching those lips close around the cigarette. Okay, co-author or not, he was lusting…bad.

Pulling out his keys, Shane stopped by a blue 1970 Mustang. "What are you in the mood for? There’s an Arby’s, Wendy’s, and Burger King near my house. If you want sit down, there’s Denny’s and Big Boy’s."

Walking to the trunk, he unlocked it and reached for Michael’s bag. Tossing it in, he closed the trunk lid before getting into the car.

"Burger King is fine," Michael said as he got in and buckled. "Damn. A week from home. It’s been a while."

"I’ve been looking forward to you getting here." The look he gave Michael had an element of appreciation, and he seemed quite confident of something, though what wasn’t readily apparent. Once they were both buckled in, Shane started the car and drove out of the airport parking lot. It took a few minutes to get onto the main highway. Free of the airport traffic, Shane pushed the speedometer to seventy.

"Yeah," Michael said quietly, "I’ve been looking forward to this, too." He looked over at Shane for several minutes, biting slightly at his lip. "So, um, what are we going to do while I’m here?"

Turning his attention from the road for just a second, Shane leveled a knowing look on him. "Oh, I’m sure we’ll find things to amuse ourselves. Though Monroe is a pretty fucking uptight place."

Focusing back on the traffic, they made quick time to exit fifteen. Pulling off on the ramp way, he turned left and drove to the nearby Burger King drive through. "What’d you want to eat?"

"Fish sandwich combo." Michael turned slightly in his seat to look at Shane more fully. "Like what?"

After ordering their meals, he drove the car forward to the drive through window. Handing over a twenty to the clerk, Shane turned to look at him. "I thought you might enjoy a visit to the dungeon down in Columbus. It‘ll give you a chance to get an idea of what everything is like."

It took considerable effort for Michael to continue looking at Shane. "Um, yeah. That would be cool. Research…and all that." He took the food from Shane and started sorting it all out, making damn sure his co-author didn’t see the sudden rush of color to his face. Research. He could do this in the name of research--so long as Shane wasn’t directly involved. But that was a tidbit he’d just as soon keep to himself.

"Yeah, all in the name of research." A smile twitched at his lips. "Since our next story is going to take place in that type of setting, it’ll help if you know what you’re writing back."

Pulling back onto the street, Shane drove the short distance to his house. His home was larger than he actually needed, but he enjoyed the space. A large park across the street was filled with kids. Lake Erie was just visible beyond the breaker wall. Getting out of the car, Shane moved to the truck to pull out Michael’s suitcase and led the way into the house.

"Nice place," Michael said as he walked inside. "So, um, what all will happen at the dungeon? I mean, I’ll be watching, right?" He immediately bit his lip and bent to pick up his bag where Shane had set it down. Fuck! The least he could do was sound a little less obvious. Cursing himself silently, he straightened back up, looking everywhere but at Shane.

As they entered the house, four large windows in the living room gave an excellent view of the lake. The room itself was huge and divided into three living areas. A group of chairs were placed around the fireplace, and another set around the entertainment center. Another niche held the computer desk. A huge open doorway led to the kitchen. Two doors to the left were closed.

"Watching would be good." Shane chuckled. "And you could always participate if you’re in the mood." Gesturing towards the first closed door, he said, "This is your bedroom for the duration. Mine is right next to it."

Michael’s eyes widened considerably at that. "Participate?"

Turning to look at him, Shane managed to hide his amusement. "Some people do, you know, Michael. It would make for good practical experience in what we’re writing."

Barely biting off the whimper, Michael just nodded. "Uh. I think I’ll just put my bag in my room." With that, he set the food bag on the nearest table and hurried into the bedroom Shane had pointed out. Soon as he got into the room, he dropped the bag on the bed and fell face-first right beside it.

"Gotta get a hold of yourself, Mike," he mumbled into the comforter. "Co-author, yes; lover, no. Co-author, yes; Master, no." Of course, the majority of his body completely ignored the chant altogether.

After finally getting himself back into a less frenetic state of mind, Michael wandered into the kitchen. Shane had already set their food out, so he sat down across from Shane and started eating, munching idly on fries as he pretended to read the newspaper that was sitting a few inches away. Truth was? He couldn’t bring himself to look Shane in the eye, not yet anyway.

"So, um…what is a dungeon like, really?"

"I think you’ll enjoy the experience, Michael. It really is very interesting." For the moment, Shane seemed more serious. "A lot of people misunderstand what D/s and BDSM are about. You’ll get the chance to see a lot of play sessions and displays by some very good experts."

"Not enjoying it isn’t the issue," Michael said under his breath.

"It will also give you a good frame of reference for writing. A great deal better than just researching on the web. And I really hope you took my advice and stayed out of the chat rooms." A roll of his eyes gave his opinion of the idea of the chat rooms. "The worst thing in those rooms is that it seems a cyber whip hurts more than the real thing."

"You know me, Shane--I hate chat rooms." Michael didn’t look up, but said quietly, "I’m more curious about the real thing."

"I know. I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t picked up that sort of thing. It’s too far from the real truth. It really would have taught you very little, and probably exposed you to wanna be’s. I’ve known a few who started that way and got burned for their trouble."

After finishing his sandwich and fries, Shane settled back in his chair, sipping on his soda.

Michael looked up, biting at his lip. "What are you going to do while I’m watching and possibly participating?"

Managing to appear completely casual, he answered Michael. "I’ll be watching. I didn’t set up for a demonstration since I decided not to participate this weekend."

Shrugging slightly, he gathered up their trash. Once everything was safely stowed in the bag, he tossed it towards the trash.

"So…what do you normally do there?"

"Occasionally, I give demonstrations. Though not as often lately since I'm more focused on the writing. Sometimes I host parties here. In this area, BDSM is largely underground. There are no dungeons here for safe play like in Columbus."

"You host parties here?" Michael looked around. "Where?"

"Downstairs in the basement. You’re welcome to take a look around whenever you want. The stairs are right across from the bathroom near my desk."

"Cool." Michael looked over at the stairs leading down. Okay, so maybe he was a bit more than just curious.

"Did you want to relax after your flight or you feel like a movie? We could always head over to the beach if you want. It’s a beautiful day out." Watching him, Shane smiled faintly, his expression revealed a small hint of potential interest in Michael.

“Actually, I’m curious to see the basement,” Michael said quietly. “Then a movie sounds good.”

Nodding, Shane stood and headed for the stairs. After flipping the light on, he went down the stairs. The basement ran the entire length of the house and was paneled in a dark wood. An array of whips and floggers hung on one of the walls. Beneath that a long table lined with several more interesting items. A St Andrew’s Cross with a butterfly chair was set near one corner.

Stopping just inside the room, Michael couldn’t begin to hide the hard-on. Finally getting his feet to move again, he walked over to the table, not touching but looking. Many of the items were ones he’d seen before: dildos, clamps, restraints. He eventually had to turn away from them, his imagination starting to get the better of him. As he walked around the room, he couldn’t help but steal glances at Shane, wondering all manner of things he knew he shouldn’t.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's deranged imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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