Hard Choice Road Ch. 01

Hard Choice Road

I wish to thank both shaguire_242 and Winston7733 for all their help in editing and story development.

Prolog

Eric made his way down the narrow streets in the old part of the city as a light mist started to fall. His wife Wren was working late crunching numbers on a thermodynamic model that some professor had requested. This gave him the night off, so to speak. It had been a long week filing a multitude of briefs and putting in two court appearances. A little time to unwind with coworkers was a great start to the weekend.

He texted Wren his plans and told her not to wait up. She replied that he deserved some downtime and emoted hugs and kisses.

He was headed to Amber Wilson's farewell party. She had recently accepted a position in one of the firm's other offices. As junior associates, they both had come up through the ranks together. Before her transfer, the junior associates took Amber out for drinks after work. A low-key, just our friends, farewell.

The venue was an exclusive uptown pub. The drinks and appetizers flowed until almost midnight. Eventually, the group whittled down until only Eric and Amber remained.

The pair laughed and chatted, mostly about work and coworkers, until Amber paused. She looked Eric straight in the eye and said, "I saw you at the Crucible Noir."

Eric wasn't sure if she meant it as an accusation or observation.

"What?" Eric replied.

"The Crucible Noir. I saw you there."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Come on, Eric, I saw you there."

"How? I mean, what are you talking about?" Eric replied, sounding flummoxed.

"Oh, you think a gay bar wouldn't allow a woman inside?"

"No. What I mean is that I am sure it wasn't me you saw."

"Eric, I work with you. I've seen you five days a week for the last three years. I know it was you. Looking very sub-chic, too, I might add. You carry off that lovely black leather thong and collar look rather well. You have a great ass, by the way, and the nipple clamps. Wow, great touch!

And that man you were with, oh my. Nice! Tall and handsome, very manly looking. Bet he knows how to apply some discipline." She giggled.

Eric dropped back in his seat with the look of a defeated man.

"Relax, your secret is safe with me. After all, add a black leather bra, heels, and full-length leather coat, and we could have been twins."

"But how?"

"As I said, don't assume a gay bar is exclusive to men. Most are open and accommodating to women, especially those catering to the BDSM scene. They let us gals linger once in a while, so long as we don't make it a habit."

"I still don't understand."

"It's straightforward, really. My husband Josh and I are into the scene. We are both bi and switches. So, every once and a while, our Mistress likes to spice things up."

"You were there with your Husband?"

"Don't sound so shocked. You were there with someone other than your wife, Mr. Married man."

"Sorry, that came out all wrong."

"I understand, I do. It's not a lifestyle most people condone. Does your wife know?"

Eric nodded.

"So, is she into the scene?"

"That's a difficult question to answer."

"Listen, I get it if you don't want to talk about it. I wouldn't have brought it up at all. It's just that, well, you two seem like a happy couple. I don't know your wife outside a few of the firm's social functions, but she seems nice. It's not easy fitting in with all the snobbery surrounding this extended business family."

"Yes, Wren is the best. She puts up with me, if you know what I mean."

"So, I take it she's not into the same kinks as you. And I mean 'kinks' in a good way."

"It's a bit complicated," he replied.

"Stanford Law with honors," Amber responded, implying that she was fully capable of understanding given her education.

"Huh, oh right, sorry."

"In short, we have an agreement. An open relationship with rules, of course."

"Go on, counselor, this sounds interesting."

Eric paused, unsure if he should continue.

Amber rolled her eyes. "Do I need to remind you that I was at the club too? Neither of our careers would benefit by exposing the other. Frankly, it's insulting that you think I am so shallow. I thought we were friends, maybe not BFFs, but together we pulled some long days and late nights on a few cases that most thought were unwinnable. Surely, that must mean something for comradery. Besides, you look like a man who needs to get something off his chest."

She was right. Other than the men he dated outside his marriage, he had not confided in anyone besides his wife. Maybe another female perspective would not be a bad idea.

"We have boundaries," he began. "We are both free to date outside our relationship. Only one partner at a time, but both of us need to be okay with the selection of the other partner.

Penetrative sex, oral, and BDSM are okay, but we have some off-limits rules: family members, of course, our exes, friends, and co-workers. Anyone either of us don't like, and anyone who gives us a feeling of insecurity is verboten.

No deep emotional attachment, which means setting emotional boundaries. No partners sleeping over. No PDA in front of the other partner. No long weekend trips. No intimate gifts. I'm sure you get the idea."

"All easier said than done, I would imagine," Amber interjected.

Eric nodded. "We share details if asked. There isn't a don't ask, don't tell policy."

Amber smirked.

"Safe sex is a must," added Eric.

"Good man!" Amber beamed playfully.

"It's only safe and sensible."

"Agreed. Impressive statutes. Anything else?"

"Small stuff, I suppose. No public appearances outside the clubs and such, as you noted."

Amber failed to suppress a wide grin at that admission.

"Keeping our communication open, and no shaming each other's thoughts or feelings. No cheating or bending the rules, and always expressing our feelings."

Eric looked away from Amber before adding, "No jealousy, yet at the same time, we can't dismiss each other's feelings."

"Is that a rule or an observation?"

"Wish I knew."

"What makes you say that?"

"Wren isn't happy."

"In reality, Eric, who is? After all, no one's perfect. There are always bound to be some difficulties. Did Wren tell you she isn't happy?"

"Not in so many words, but I know she'd like me to be more dominant."

"And that's not you."

"Exactly! At every instant, I've told her to find an external partner who can give her that. I mean, come on. Wren's a beautiful woman, along with being a great person. She could have her pick of any man, or woman for that matter, to be her Master or Mistress."

"I don't disagree, but you must understand, Eric, things are different for a woman."

"Different?"

Amber rolled her eyes. Her head was wavering from one too many Moscow Mules. "Men go out and have an affair, fling, whatever you want to call it. People talk, of course. They gossip and say, "How could he and such?" But deep down, no one cares; it's expected. It's what men do.

Despite all the progress and equality, women are still not given the same benefit of the doubt. If a woman has an affair, she is a slut, a whore, even if it's an open relationship or her husband is a no-good cheating manhoe. You're not, of course, a manhoe.

For Wren, even with your rules, it's not so easy. Maybe she feels that she might be perceived differently than you."

"I don't follow."

"Did you hear anything I just said?" Amber exclaimed in more of a statement than a question.

"Are you saying she feels she can't see someone else?"

"Have you asked her?"

"No, but she knows she's free to tell me anything. It's one of the things we agree upon."

"So no,"

"As I said, she needs to tell me."

"You know as well as I do that communication is a two-way street. Maybe Wren is uncomfortable confiding that aspect to you. More likely, she wants you to be happy and fears that raining on your parade would diminish that euphoria."

Amber's truthful words hit home. He was content so long as Wren didn't voice her displeasure. Wren was never one to grumble or show discontent, and he was taking advantage. It might not be his fault, but it most certainly had to be his concern. He knew she was unhappy, and deep down, it affected him.

"Can I make a suggestion?"

"Please,"

Amber reached for her purse, which could have doubled as a small backpack. She spent a considerable amount of time searching its depths. Her mildly inebriated state no doubt contributed to her extended hunt.

"There you are!" she said, pulling out a business card as if she had won the lottery and handing it to him. It was jet-black with red lettering and edged in gold trim.

When Eric looked closely and found that the only information it contained was an email address. A nondescriptive combination of random letters and numbers with a typical dot com domain.

"What's this?"

Amber looked around to see if they were being observed as if she was giving up nuclear launch codes; then, she leaned in closer to Eric and whispered, "Maybe the answer to your issue."

"I don't get it."

"Several of the senior partners, and I can't say who, belong to a very exclusive, or shall we say, elite society. Its members indulge in BDSM."

"What... Who..."

"Shhh... I told you it's exclusive by invitation only. Don't worry; it's all above board and legit. At least no laws are being broken, let's put it that way."

"I don't understand."

"Listen, you have to trust me. The club is made up of select individuals who enjoy the same endeavors as we do. It is all safe and very confidential. My hubby and I have been members for over a year now.

In this club, and regardless of what you are in your daily life, you can be a top or bottom, master or slave, into pain, humiliation, or whatever. They even admit switches like hubby and me.

Just contact them by email. There is no harm in investigating; believe me, they have no interest in becoming public any more than you do. You and Wren will thank me."

"I don't know. I mean, it sounds a little..."

"A little what, weird, unbelievable? Listen, in a world where a reality show follows a group of sisters going for anal bleaching, do you think a cabal of chic BDSM aficionados doesn't exist?"

Eric toyed with the card between his fingers. "I mean, what's involved? What's required?

"Just send an email to the address stating you have been contacted. Keep it short and to the point; no need to elaborate. Let them know you're interested. On the back of the card is a code. Use that as your signature, and don't use your email address at the firm. Not that you would, just saying it for hopefully obvious reasons. Hell, use a fake email account. It doesn't matter."

"I'm not sure. What happens after I send the email?"

"Just do it, you pussy."

Eric laughed. "All right, I will think about it. If this is some kind of parting practical joke, remember paybacks are hell," he said with a wink.

As they were leaving the pub, each getting into their own Uber, Eric paused and turned to Amber, "Hey, you said by invitation only. How come you had the card?"

"Because I was ordered to invite you. I was so nervous. Luckily, those Moscow Mules kicked in; I wasn't sure I could go through with it. Now, my Mistress doesn't have to punish me. She paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "On second thought, maybe I fucked up!" She waved and blew him a kiss before leaving.

Eric felt his breast pocket, ensuring he had the business card before getting into the Uber.

Chapter One: Uno

It was the type of wedding reception that only a senior partner in the city's most prestigious law firm could throw for his one and only daughter. Elegant and overdone, it screamed: look, daddy and mommy are obscenely rich, and the whole family enjoys flaunting it. Wren decided she was jealous, and the green-eyed monster of envy was taking over her thoughts. Would she be any different if she were in the same position? She hoped so, though a nagging feeling told her probably not.

Her husband was making his way up the firm, so their attendance was obligatory. He was indeed in his element, moving among the partners and clients with ease. Skillfully and disarmingly charming, like a shark among a school of unsuspecting fish. Chatting and laughing, all the while projecting that perfect alpha male exterior. Funny, she pondered, alpha in public and sub-beta in the bedroom.

"Hey Wren, how about checking out the martini bar on the third floor?" her husband asked enthusiastically. He knew how she detested these events. The offer was a thinly veiled attempt to whisk her away.

"I don't care for them, Eric. Besides, they are stronger than crap, and I am lightweight. Unless the slobbering drunk wife is the look we're going for?" she chided before hugging him.

"No worries, that's just their specialty. I'm sure they are full-service. And no, that is not the look we are going for, babe. Though, if anyone could pull it off with grace and cuteness, it would be you." he said with a grin.

She smiled back at him. "All right then, let's go!" she said with a bit too much glee.

Wren certainly had no objection to ducking out. She had engaged in the required small talk to ensure she wasn't seen as aloof. Nothing could be more detrimental to her husband's career than a snooty, stuck-up west coast wife. Knowing she just didn't fit in with this crowd made the time drag. They were upper class, and you were never once allowed to forget it during their conversations. She had little knowledge of going to the beach for the weekend, jetting off to Europe on extended vacations, or picking out paints from color swatches for the upstate retreat.

Wren was a nerdy geek who worked with numbers and calculations. A Californian too casual and laid back to fit in perfectly with her husband's associates. Even Eric sometimes showed signs that his 'People' were wearing thin on him. The strains and demands of being an aspiring junior partner were beginning to show.

The hotel bar proved a great sanctuary from the wedding reception and quiet, it being a Saturday afternoon. It was sparsely populated with a few other wedding guests escaping the gala several floors above just as she and Eric had done. They found a secluded booth at the far end of the bar and took a seat.

She took a sip of her gin and tonic as Eric continued to talk about some client whose wife had run off with a substantial amount of his millions. Not that she wasn't interested in his work, though once you hear one cheating spouse story, they all tend to follow the same path. Someone is wronged, cheated, lied to. The list goes on.

Times like these made her reflect on her own relatively new marriage. Wren watched her husband as he talked, thinking about what attracted her to him. She loved her husband mostly. Eric was tall and handsome with dark hair. With a body better muscled than most avid runners. His looks did not attract her attention, at least not exclusively--more his easy-going demeanor, wit, charm, and of course, killer smile.

Along with all that, she had found his private-side submissiveness lovable at first. The truth was she still did, and she just longed for him to take charge at least once in a while. Alas, it seemed, that was not part of his psyche.

She fully understood the stresses he faced every day in the legal world. The need he had to unwind and decompress. His was a hard, demanding job with a grueling schedule. But did that mean her desires should always take second place?

Eric came from a wealthy east coast old money family. Being a girl from the opposite coast with two dads, his parent's acceptance of her was begrudging. Her background did not sit quite right with their WASP views. Wren considered them open-minded rich, and always very accepting in the public eye. They had never been overly condescending to her, but she suspected that was always just beneath the surface.

It seemed to her they felt their son could do better than a California geek girl. Her divorced homosexual father and absent free-spirited world-traveling artist mum didn't help with the parentage thing either--high-class snobbery rules in elite circles.

If they only knew what she first suspected and then confirmed soon after dating their son. In public, especially in his professional life, he played the skilled, ruthless, and shrewd attorney. Their prep-schooled, elite college-educated, top-of-the-class, frat boy son had an alter ego. Of course, she did also, knowing those that live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Wren tried never to judge anyone, including Eric.

Wren sipped her drink as her eyes scanned the room. People-watching was one of her favorite pastimes. For her, it was a fascinating insight into the lives of others.

She knew Eric loved her deeply. Although he didn't believe in love at first sight, the idea of instantaneous attraction was a very different story. He told her that her svelte form, thick sable hair, and eyes that shone like blue sapphires initially caught his attention. Her even temperament, dry wit, and easy-going outlook captured him. Mostly, it was Wren herself that made him fall in love.

The demands of his position required Eric always to be "On," and it was draining. He could be himself around Wren, and that was priceless. He could drop the facade of dominance, assertiveness, and always having to be the one in control. Wren accepted him as he was, not the facade he had to display in his professional life. More than that, he loved that Wren could take the dominant role at home, especially sexually, and just as importantly, she readily accepted his bisexuality.

That was a truth that would kill his parents. Their Ivy League-educated prodigy being anything other than a red-blooded manly man would shatter their world. As When said to him, "Your parents are the most accepting people I know. As long as it doesn't affect them." He knew the observation was spot on.

He had experimented with his sexuality in prep school and freshman year at college. His same-sex relationships were more flings than any serious commitment. That feeling of powerful masculinity emanating from dominant men always drew him, but the guilt he felt about his innermost feelings could never be shaken. How, in this day and age, could his parents fail to understand? It baffled him.

Yet, all this didn't mean he had any less desire for women. Finding himself equally attracted to both sexes, he enjoyed dating women throughout college and law school. Finding dominant alpha males was easy. Alpha women, not so much.

That all changed when Wren came into his life. Beautiful and funny, she was a ray of sunshine when he began to believe he would never find someone.

Wren knew his preferences even before he told her. Woman's intuition or not, it didn't take her long to circumstantiate his predilections. The relief he felt when he could share his secrets with her was life-changing, like being trapped underwater with your last breath, then rising to the surface and feeling the air fill your lungs.

When they began dating, Wren insisted on only a few rules in their relationship that they both practice safe sex. They tell each other about any other sexual relationships they had and who was involved. Most of all, they were open and honest with each other.

Wren dutifully took control in the bedroom, as long as it wasn't required in every instance of their lovemaking. Although, she did enjoy playing the part of the Domme on occasion. She always laughed, saying she was only a half-assed Domme at best. Their antics, as she called them, were tame, some spanking, mild bondage with a little tease and denial. Wren said that they were neophytes in the world of BDSM, a statement with which Eric didn't disagree. It was the best of both worlds for him, and his quest for more extreme BDSM could be fulfilled outside his bond with Wren.