As you may recall from last week, Randy had a heart attack, luckily before Shy had to carry out his "generous gift" to the men of the club. I know, you're all heartbroken, right? Well, this week is the aftermath. What happens to Shy now? Find out in this week's chapter of No Way Out. And don't forget to see what the other Briefers are doing. Their links follow my tale. Enjoy!
No Way Out #23
Time began to move in funny ways. Sometimes it stretched out, like pulling on taffy. People moved about Shy in slow motion. And then sometimes it jerked and pulled and passed without his being aware of what happened.
He sat in the eye of the storm, his mind devoid of thought. Nothing made sense. Nothing. The cries of “Do something” and “Call 9-1-1!” faded. The only constant was Randy, who lay on the floor, unmoving. So Shy sat where he was, and also didn’t move, for he’d not been told he could, so he wouldn’t.
By the time the paramedics arrived with the stretcher, someone had dressed Shy in a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt and removed his cock ring, freeing his numb cock. But that didn’t seem to matter, or did it? The pants were too big and the crotch hung to his knees, but he didn’t care. His eyes were fixed on Randy, waiting for him to say something. Anything.
But his lips never moved.
He watched the paramedics carefully, although what they were actually doing, he couldn’t say. None of it made any sense. All of it was gibberish.
When they loaded Randy onto the stretcher and began to walk him from the room, Shy automatically rose and followed.
“Where are you going?” one of them asked.
“With you.” That seemed obvious. At least Shy thought so.
The man shook his head, but he never paused, and Shy simply kept walking after them. He had to go. That’s what he was meant to do. If he didn’t, Randy would be pissed, and he knew it.
Then time jumped and suddenly he found himself in a room, like an office, with two men. One was the man who’d told Randy to leave Shy alone. The other seemed familiar too. The owner of the club. Shy sat on a small couch; the two men sat in chairs by the desk.
“I know he wanted to go, but that wasn’t possible,” Blankenship was saying.
“I know, I know.” Bobby, that’s his name, Shy remembered, ran a hand through his closed-cropped grey hair. “Damn, what a mess.”
“He brought it on himself.”
“Yeah, I know that too.”
“We have to do something about...”
Shy raised his head. Him? Were they talking about him? Must be. They were both looking directly at him.
“Has he got family?” Blankenship wanted to know.
“Only Grant, God help him.”
They fell silent, while Shy’s mind kicked around the idea of family for a few seconds, but came up empty. The concept was too alien to him to dwell on.
Shy began to replay the scene again, saw Randy fall to the ground, watched the escalating panic, like he was watching a video or something. It still made no sense. Would they take him to Randy? He should be there when Randy woke, or there would be hell to pay.
He’d have to apologize, and Randy’d be mad. But maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.
He just had to go, before it was too late. Before Randy realized he wasn’t there.
Why didn’t they understand that? He glanced down at his lap. His hands were twisting together without him seeming to do it, so he focused on them, on stretching his fingers out and then meshing his hands again, like a human puzzle.
Randy had a puzzle in his den. Shy had been curious; he’d picked it up and twisted it around, playing with the colors until he aligned them perfectly, one color to each side of the cube. But when he’d proudly showed Randy what he’d done, Randy had slapped the puzzle from his hands. And then he’d spanked Shy.
Shy exhaled a long breath and looked up again.
“Does Grant have any family that can take him?”
“Don’t think so,” Bobby replied.
“I’d like to go home now.”
Until both men stared at him, Shy hadn’t realized he’d spoken, that those were his words. Suddenly, he realized that’s what he needed to do. “Please,” he added, almost forgetting his manners.
The men exchanged glances, although Shy didn’t understand why there was a problem. He needed to go home. He had to make the house ready. Randy wouldn’t be long, and if he came home and things were not taken care of, there’d be hell to pay.
Bobby sighed and shook his head. He slammed his closed fist onto the top of his desk. Blankenship jumped, but Shy never reacted. “I don’t see we have much choice. He can’t very well stay here.”
“I could take him home with me...” Blankenship began. Bobby vehemently shook his head.
“I wouldn’t open that particular can of worms. Besides, I think being in familiar surroundings will do him more good.”
“I still think he should be with someone,” Blankenship insisted.
Bobby came around the desk and knelt before Shy. “Do you have any friends, Shy?” he asked softly. “Someone you can stay with?”
Friends? Shy shook his head. “I need to go home, please,” he repeated politely.
“You know that Grant is a... monster.” Why did Blankenship sound so... distressed, Shy wondered. “How can we take him back there?”
“We have no choice. Shy’s an adult. He’s free to do as he wishes.”
“Do you know what he was going to do? Do you?”
“I heard.” Bobby groaned again and rubbed his face with both hands. “Oh damn, this is so hard.”
Hard? Why was anything hard, Shy wondered.
He had to go home. That was easy, not hard. If he didn’t, then things would get hard. Then he’d get punished. He began to tremble at the thought.
Blankenship moved onto the couch beside Shy, laid his arm about his shoulder. “Shhh, shhh, it’s all right, everything’s all right, Shy. I’ll take you home.”
Home... home... Yes, that’s where he needed to be.
But just as he thought that, another idea entered his brain, and without stopping to think, he spoke the word aloud.
to be continued
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