Power. Permission.
Control. Consent.
Truth. Trust.
Welcome to The Red Door, a popular BDSM club in Chicago owned by Master Matthias Daniels (Yes! Many of you already know Master Matthias and his submissive Lane from Loving His Submission...
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Payton
"Bye Dad," I say as I climb out of his Volvo and open the back door to get my bag.
"Safe flight Payton," he says, "call your mother when you land, let her know you got back safely."
"I will."
"And think about what we talked about last night," he adds.
"Dad, I'm not changing my major," I grind out and slam the door before walking into the airport. He had the nerve, no, the ignorance to tell me that I wouldn't get hired as a physical therapist for professional athletes, which is what I want to do, if they realize I'm gay, so I should either change my major or keep it a secret...or both. Thanks for the support Dad! It's his passive aggressive way of basically saying he doesn't accept anything about me. Whatever, I only care about what people I respect think of me, I just can't worry about everyone or I'd go nuts. Ugh.
I swear, I was going to pop a gasket if I had to stay one more day at that house. It wasn't nearly this bad when I was living at home, mostly my brother was away and my Dad pretty much ignored me. He was either at work or downing cocktails with his cronies at his golf club. This time it was like they saved it up and hit me with it to make up for lost time as well as for the next several months. Mom isn't as bad, but she certainly doesn't stand up to Dad.
Deep breaths Payton, deep breaths and let it go, I say to myself, stopping just inside the terminal and inhaling slowly.
I'm like 3 hours early for my flight, but my dad thought it was a different time and I wasn't about to correct him if it got me out of there sooner. I look for United Airlines and go over to check in. Once I get to the agent I hand her my itinerary and I.D.
"Okay, unfortunately your flight is going to be delayed. The plane is originating in Cleveland, but is grounded pending a mechanical issue."
Great.
"But I might be able to get you on an earlier flight since you're so early."
"That would be great," I tell her, since I don't really want to get on a plane with mechanical issues anyway. She starts clicking away at her keyboard. Literally for like 5 minutes and thousands and thousands of clicks and clacks.
"Will you be checking any luggage?"
"Nope." I hold up my knapsack, "This is all I have."
"Great, there's a plane leaving in 20 minutes. I'll call ahead and let the gate know you're coming, you'll just have to hurry through security."
She clicks and clacks a few dozen more times before handing me a boarding pass and pointing me in the right direction. Twenty minutes? Has she been through security. I run towards the entrance and get in line, hopping on the balls of my feet as I wait, full of nervous energy. This is exactly why I like to get to the airport early, to avoid stressful situations like this.
