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People got two things wrong and one partly right about David. The latter was easy to assume, given the portfolio of his long-standing career. He had donned women’s clothing for a role on several occasions and kissed men on stage or at conventions without hesitation. It was nothing to be ashamed of, and David had accepted this side of him ages ago. He embraced the entire spectrum of the human condition. He had heard rumors about his sexuality over the years and found them mostly amusing. Despite being the preferred candidate of many mothers-in-law for their daughters, some people suspected he was secretly gay, which, by definition, he wasn't.
David was a happily married man who adored his wife and children and wouldn’t trade them and their happiness for anything in the world. The closest to a label David would slap on himself was bisexual, though his preferences drifted through phases where he appreciated one side of himself a little more. Right now, he was looking for an encounter with a man under specific conditions.
Here, the public opinion about him was wrong. Because of his lanky build, general appearance, and polite manners, people had decided he fit the stereotype of a submissive and a bottom. The truth, however, was at the other end of the spectrum. David was dominant and a top. Not the kind of dominant people often associated with the word. Not like the guy on the other side of the room who looked like a cheap version of Arnold Schwarzenegger on steroids. David had dubbed him Muscles in his head since that was all the guy would ever be. Brass and loud, he constantly made sure everyone knew he had the biggest balls. David detested such behavior as it cast a poor light on the skills of a Dom. Once, he had spotted Muscles’ submissive partner sporting a black eye. Of course, it could have been consensual — different people liked different things — yet the young man’s body language had revealed unease and apprehension. In David’s opinion, submission was given freely, not demanded.
David sighed. He missed staging scenes, taking the lead, and being absorbed in his role. He took another sip from his drink and reminisced about simpler times prior to Covid when he had indulged in an arrangement with a man named Ciaran. Their desires and fantasies had coincided, and David had spent countless memorable hours with his enthusiastic sub. Then that damn virus had taken a stranglehold on the world, Ciaran had returned to his family in Ireland, and David was left alone as life slowly returned to normal. A new normality in which people felt the urge to make up for lost months on the one hand and were more wary and cautious on the other. It wasn’t an ideal situation for finding a new submissive partner. On top of that, as a celebrity, he could only frequent a few select places without landing on the front page of the yellow press.
One of them was this exclusive BDSM club – exclusive as in “members only” or “access by invite”. It separated the connoisseurs from the wannabes and idiots who willfully misinterpreted every letter in BDSM. Except for Muscles, who had probably bought his way in with his money. Unfortunately.
This club was situated in a nondescript building of the bland 1970s architectural style on the outskirts of London. It was easy to miss for a passerby. Inside, a balanced play of light and color created a pleasant and intimate atmosphere. In the main room, brown, burgundy, and golden shades dominated the furniture and the lounge suites. A bar stretched alongside one wall, whereas two flights of stairs on the opposite side led to various rooms upstairs that fulfilled every fantasy imaginable. Strategically placed table lamps and overhead lighting bathed everything in a soft, warm glow. Classical music played in the background.
David appreciated the anonymity and secrecy of this establishment. Dressed in black slacks, a white dress shirt with rolled up sleeves, and a custom-made mask covering his eyes, he nursed his second drink on this relatively quiet Friday evening. For the last twenty minutes, a gangly twink on the sofa to his left tried to get his attention in a not-so-subtle way. Flattered as David was by the attempt, he had no interest. Sure, he might enjoy himself and satisfy a need, only to go home feeling empty. He wanted something else, something more profound. Yet, he couldn’t say exactly what he was longing for.
David emptied his glass and put it down on the table. His gaze roamed again, skimming over two elderly couples who had swapped partners, scanning the line at the bar, and-
His eyes leaped back to the backside of a sturdy man leaning over the counter and talking to the barkeeper. He wore anthracite-colored pants, a matching waistcoat, a white dress shirt, and gray curls David recognized anywhere.
It couldn’t be him, now could it?
The stranger turned to the side as he waited for his order, and David could make out his profile, partially hidden in shadow. The generic mask a patron could acquire at the entrance covered the upper half of the face, whereas a beard resembling a bird’s nest obscured the rest. There was no doubt in David’s mind anymore. It was his friend Michael Sheen.
One thousand and one questions buzzed around in David’s head, the most pressing one being: What the fuck is Michael doing here?
Michael downed his drink in one go and signaled for another, one hand scratching the back of his neck.
David frowned. Usually, Michael carried himself with an air of self-confidence perfected through years of acting. Right now, waves of insecurity and anxiety radiated off of him. That was never a good sign, as it attracted predators.
As if on cue, Muscles made his way over to Michael and placed his hand possessively on Michael’s upper arm.
“No, no, no, no,” David muttered to himself and jumped up. He strode to Michael, grabbed his hair, and pulled his head back.
Michael gasped in surprise.
“Hey, what are-”
“The boy is mine,” David interrupted Muscles, his eyes fixated on Michael’s face.
“I don’t see him wearing a collar,” Muscles said.
“Not yet. It’s part of our scene, isn’t it?” David asked Michael in a tone that didn’t tolerate any argument.
Michael swallowed and nodded imperceptibly.
“Good boy,” David said, crushing their lips together in a bruising kiss.
Come on, Michael , you’re an actor, David thought and prayed his friend would pick up the clues. Start acting!
With a second’s delay, Michael pressed back against David’s lips.
“Got it.” Muscles walked away.
David pulled back and loosened his grip. The apparent problem was solved. The more important one, however, persisted. “Follow me! Now!” David said with stern authority. Without checking if Michael followed him, he headed towards the stairs, a myriad of emotions bubbling underneath the surface. He was furious at Michael’s stupidity and Muscles’ impudence in taking what was obviously not his.
On the first level, David opened a door with a vacant sign and waited until David entered the room. He closed the door behind him, changed the status to occupied, and switched the light on. “What the hell are you doing here?!”
“I could ask you the same!” Michael retorted with equal fervor.
How dare he! This was not about him. “No, no, no,”—David wagged a finger—”you don’t get to talk to me like that.” He took a step towards Michael. “Do you have any idea of the trouble you’d be in right now if that guy had taken you to one of those rooms?”
Michael folded his arms across his chest. “Maybe that’s what I want.”
Another wave of anger surged through David. “Are you fucking crazy?”
“Why do you care?”
“I-” David stopped himself. Losing control of his emotions was unbecoming of a Dom. He closed his eyes and took a calming breath. Much more collected, he fixed his gaze on Michael’s face and said, “I always care. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have this discussion.”
Michael’s shoulders sagged, and he turned away from David, running a hand through his hair.
David closed the distance between them and came to a halt behind Michael, a little less than an arm’s length separating their bodies. “This lifestyle has been part of me for almost three decades now. I’ve learned to recognize the signs of a novice.” He put his hand soothingly on Michael’s shoulder. “If I can spot it, others can do it, too.”
Michael's head fell forward, making him appear smaller and more vulnerable than he was.
“I couldn’t allow that idiot to exploit your vulnerability and hurt you,” David said, rubbing Michael’s back in circling motions. “Tell me, Michael, why are you really here?”
For a long moment, silence filled the air. “I… I’m… It’s all your fault,” Michael cried out and bolted from David’s touch, putting the wooden table with the leather straps between them.
David blinked in surprise. What did that mean? He racked his brain for an incident, something that had happened between them, that could have led to Michael's accusation. He came up empty. “I don’t understand.”
Although the mask concealed Michael's eyes, his glare hit David with full force. “Everything I had pushed down was brought up by you again,” Michael said with a tremble in his voice.
David wasn’t any wiser what Michael was alluding to. He sensed, however, that his friend needed the time and space to collect himself. He waited and kept his body language open and attentive. Whatever internal war his friend was waging, he wouldn’t pressure him to disclose any details.
Michael’s fingers traced the shape of one leather strap for a while, and his eyes wandered around the room. He took a deep breath and began, “When I was-” only to falter and drift off into silence for several more seconds. Michael tapped his fingers against the wooden surface several times and tried again, “One summer in theater school, I… I met a sweet guy—James was his name—and he showed me a side of myself I didn’t know existed. He was fantastic.” A dreamy expression passed over Michael’s face. “But I was too scared of other people’s opinion of me. The AIDS crisis still loomed above all, and I wanted to be looked upon as a respectable actor, Shakespeare, charming lover, lunatic serial killer.” Michael emphasized the enumeration with gesticulating hands. “Not just be known as a faggot in drag.”
The last words were spoken with such venom that David’s heart broke for his friend. How terrible it must have been to carry such a burden of self-loathing.
“So, I broke up with James, hurt him deeply, and repressed my feelings. I convinced myself I was a heterosexual man and threw myself into numerous affairs with women. I deluded myself, and my life went on. Only when I wore the mantle of a character and immersed myself in their world, I allowed my gay side to show itself because it wasn’t me. Because it was safe.”
Looking back at Michael's career, the list of gay or gay-coded characters was long. Just like his own, David mused. Only Michael's motivation was different.
“And then you and Good Omens came along,” Michael spat out and jabbed a finger at David. “You with your openness and your kind-heartedness, your sweet smile and cute giggle. Scene by scene, day by day, you chipped away at my walls, and my carefully preserved illusion of who I was collapsed until there was nothing left to hide behind.” Michael turned away once more, eyes raised to the ceiling, and hit his chest with his fist. “It’s in here and doesn’t go away. No matter how hard I try.”
Until now, David had shrugged Michael’s innuendos, longing gazes, and blatant flirting on national TV off as an innocuous crush on him. It happened when two coworkers spent long hours on set, and the lines between character and person blurred. David had experienced it himself once. Therefore, he couldn’t pass judgment on Michael and good-naturedly engaged in their playful banter. He had never suspected that underneath it all ran a deep-rooted, internalized homophobia and a life full of repression. “That’s why you came here? To feel whole again?” David asked.
“Something like that,” Michael said, staring down at his hands. “Mostly to forget everything for one night.” Resigned, he removed the mask from his face and walked toward the exit.
David couldn’t let him leave like that, miserable and emotionally drained, and stopped him with a hand on his arm. “You can have it if you know the rules.”
Michael lifted his gaze. “How?”
An idea took shape in David’s mind: silly, dangerous, and extremely enticing. It had the potential to either destroy their friendship or bring them unimaginable pleasure. David chose his next carefully, “If I understand you correctly, you’re looking for a male who’s dominant and a top.”
Michael nodded.
“Someone to help you explore your gay side and quieten the voices in your head.”
Michael’s mouth curled up in a sad smile. “Accurately put.”
A giddy feeling spread through David. “I can help you with that.”
Michael canted his head and knitted his brow.
For someone as smart as Michael, he appeared pretty dense at the moment. David laid both hands on Michael’s shoulders to ensure he had his full attention and said, “Michael, I tick off every box on your wish list.”
Michael’s eyes widened, and he stammered, “No, no, I-I can’t… Th-that’s not what I-I meant.”
Michael’s flustered state was adorable. The person he longed for suddenly offered him everything he wanted, sending him onto a roller coaster of emotions and denial. His reaction gave David a taste of how he’d behave as a submissive and which potential he had. There was no denying David wanted him, and his mind started to conjure up possible scenes: Micheal gagged and tied up on a bed, Michael panting and writhing underneath him, Michael sinking to his knees after David whispered soft words into his ear. The heat settled low in David’s abdomen. If he used his charm and magic at this precise moment, Michael would surrender to him, but it would leave a sour aftertaste in his mouth. Abusing his power and privilege in such a way would put him on the same level as guys like Muscles, and he was better than that. To fully enjoy the experience, Michael needed guidance and instructions. David would provide that. He pushed one finger against Michael’s lips. “Ssshhh, not today.” Michael’s muttering faded away. “Now, go home. Sleep. Spend time with your daughters tomorrow.” David took the mask from Michael’s fingers and put it back in place. “Sometime next week, you’ll let me know your decision.”
Michael exhaled and nodded, albeit hesitantly.
“Good,” David said, switched the sign back to vacant, and opened the door for them to leave.