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One For Luck
    © 2012 by Sean Michael
    All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Sean Michael, 2515 Bank St., P.O. Box 40001, Ottawa, ON, K1V 0W8.
    Printed in Canada.
    Previously published by Torquere Press electronic edition / 2012
    2nd Edition / May 2015
    One for Luck
    Sean Michael
    Michael stomped a little on his way up to the door of the Club. He wasn’t sure he fucking wanted to be there tonight. The ER had been insane, the doctors snarling, bitching.
    And then, just as he was heading home for a long bath and possibly a beer, he’d gotten a message. “I expect you at the club at eight. Don’t be late.”
    That left him in a quandary -- his shift ended at seven and there was no way he could get home, shave and clean up, and not be late. Asshole.
    And of course, when he pushed the doors to Shady Business open, the place was fucking busy and everyone was dressed nicely, or you know, in their collar and leash and not much else. Well, if Gar wanted him in something besides scrubs, the asshole could have given him a day’s notice.
    And who was the first person he ran into as he looked for Gar? Grey fucking Shade himself, owner of the Club and here he was, wearing his bloody scrubs.
    “Sir.” Fuck. Fuck a Doodle Do.
    Grey, tall and intimidating, looked him up and down. “A little underdressed today, wouldn’t you say, Michael?”
    He counted to twenty. Twice. “I had to make a choice between punctuality and formalwear, Sir.”
    Shade’s lips twitched up into a smile. “You’re well-trained, boy.”
    “Thank you, Sir.” If only Garth thought so.
    “I’d better walk with you to your master.”
    “Yes, Sir.” Goodie. He swore if Gar was going to ride his ass tonight, he was going to lose his shit.
    He followed a half a step behind Shade, the man leading him through the main club to the far side of the place. His mouth opened in surprise as he saw the balloons, a half dozen or so of their friends, and the huge banner that read “Happy birthday, Michael.”
    He blinked. Looked at Gar. “I forgot.”
    Tall and muscled, his dark hair offset by the white silk shirt he wore, Gar gave Michael a grin and came over. “Happy birthday, boy.”
    “Thank you, Master.” He would have hugged the man, but he was a little gross. “I could go change?”
    “You know where the showers are if you need them,” murmured Shade. “And on that note, I have to check on the supplies in the dungeons, so I’ll wish you a happy birthday, Michael.” Shade gave him a grin and headed for the main club room.
    Gar chuckled as Shade left, then all his attention turned to Michael. “You really did forget, didn’t you?”
    “I was working. You know me.” He smiled into those warm green eyes, letting the love there pour over him.
    “I do know you.” Gar grinned down at him. “Why do you think I ordered you to be here at eight?” Bending, Gar brought their mouths together and took a kiss, long and hard, leaving him breathless.
    He reached up, holding onto Gar’s upper arms, the muscles jerking and rippling under his fingers.
    When the kiss ended, Gar smiled. “Happy Birthday, baby.”
    “Thank you.” He was beginning to feel a little like an idiot. Of course, he was also a little hurt -- no one at the hospital had remembered? No one? Fuckers.
    “You can shower later. Right now I want you to strip for your birthday spanking.” Gar pointed to the little stage in the corner of the room.
    “Just like that?” He wasn’t anywhere near in a headspace for this. Hell, he hadn’t even remembered his birthday and he needed to unwind a minute, breathe. Something. Shit. “Okay.” He was about two and a half seconds from a temper tantrum. Like a real screaming, kicking, fighting tantrum.
    One of Gar’s eyebrows went up. “Okay...?”
    “Okay, Master.” He