Hand Job

But more than the impossibility of it, the question itself stuck out to me.Wouldn’t anyone, if they were in my shoes?Still, I selected “no.” Whatever strange force—and yes, I already believed something supernatural was at play—had infected my camera and posed me a question with such an obvious answer had wasted its time. Sure, I wanted change. Wanted it more than anything. That’s why I was going to force it; tonight, by my own hand.Then, would you like to change the lives of those you hold dear?I hadn’t expected another message.The faces of the two women I lived with—my aunt and my younger sister—surfaced momentarily from the depths of my selfishness, but I closed my eyes to them.Aunt Riley was getting by just fine without my help, and Jessie—You’re running away from it.—was better off without a useless brother like me. I selected “no” again.There was no third prompt.Since I didn’t have anywhere in particular to go, I walked aimlessly around my small coastal Florida town of Navarre. Shy had explained that when they were out in public, meaning vanilla types of establishments like the restaurant, she didn't like to openly flaunt their lifestyle to the unsuspecting public. Everything they had done at the restaurant was only visible to the three of them at their table. But things would be a little more open at the club.Darlene's pulse quickened as they pulled into the parking lot next to the club. There was an attendant and he handed Joe a ticket and told him where he was to park.The Armory had been just as it's name implied, a storage building for the army more than seventy-five years ago, and until the last few years had fallen into disrepair. Joe had handled the real estate deal bringing some wealthy BDSM aficionado's from nearby Baltimore. While the price had been low, there was a ton of money spent on rehabbing the old brick building, and Joe had brokered the deals to some of his contractor friends.One of the attractions to his clients had been the inch-thick,.
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