Page 25 of Naughty November
I’LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU ARE
CARA DEE
ONE
MAX JENSEN
This was weird. Reid and I took the elevator up to the attic on the fourth floor, and we didn’t speak. He pushed the metal gate open when the elevator stopped, and I dug out my keys.
This space right here had been our coat check slash changing room before events for eleven years. The bathrooms were here too, same with a tiny-ass office where we kept members’ records and the community’s bookkeeping.
I unlocked the door to the main area, and we stepped inside…
The attic stretched along the length of the building, about a hundred feet, with a vaulted ceiling, window nooks that’d become seating areas, and a long line at the center with kinky furniture. Sawhorses, four-poster beds, a station for suspension bondage, two crosses, a rope web, and a pillory.
We had twenty-seven days to clear it all.
Smaller implements like floggers, whips, rope, paddles, and gags were stacked in boxes along the walls.
In two months, a graphic design agency was moving in.
I walked over to the nearest seating area, consisting of four chairs and a low table. Reid followed me, and we sat down and just looked out over the place.
Eleven fucking years.
The failure of shutting down weighed heavily at the same time as it felt liberating to finally walk away.
Our community hadn’t been thriving in…fuck, three or four years. It’d been one headache after another. One fight after another. So much goddamn drama. And Reid and I were done.
We had seventy-four members, and about twenty of them had listed themselves as attending the meeting tonight.
The rest would get a lengthy message on our Discord server first thing in the morning.
Old Town is closing. We thank you for these eleven kinky years…but now y’all can fuck off.
Okay, I wouldn’t be adding the last part.
I leaned back and rubbed my forehead.
Reid picked up a piece of paper from the table and eyed it.
“What is it?” I asked.
His mouth twitched. “The list of kinks members filled in. This is yours.”
Oh. I must’ve forgotten it here.
In an attempt to revive some of the old energy that once filled the space, we’d printed out a list of kinks to try out. We’d wanted a weekend-long event where members could explore something new and have fun.
Then I’d opened my email to find the monthly invoice for rent due, and I’d stared at it for the longest time. I’d called Reid, fucking exhausted, and asked what the hell we were even doing anymore.
The end had snuck up on us, but it wasn’t like we hadn’t seen it coming. Reid had renegotiated our lease two years ago, going from six months to monthly, because we’d known deep down there would come a day when we were just fed up. At which point, we wouldn’t wanna be stuck with this place for several months.
Reid’s forehead creased. “You listed primal/rough as somethin’ you wanna try?”
Oh fuck.
“Gimme that.” I leaned forward and extended my hand.