Author Notes
First things first, I want to say a massive thank you to everyone for the truly incredible support my first story received. Back when I posted it, I figured it would maybe get a couple hundred views and that would be awesome. So, when I checked in roughly a week later and saw just how much people seemed to like it, saying that I was shocked would be a gigantic understatement. So again, thank you so, so much for reading!
Now, onto this story. It took a bit longer than I expected, but hopefully, the wait is worth it. Like with
Remote
, this is another longer chaptered one, although there's a little bit more of a build-up this time before things start to heat up. I hope you'll enjoy it just as much!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Session 1
"Anything interesting happen at school today?" my father asked as we settled down for dinner. It was his usual, regular as clockwork question that both my twin sister and I were always tired of hearing. We'd both learned to stop complaining about it long ago, given that doing so never accomplished anything, instead usually opting to reply with a shake of our heads or a wordless grunt--the latter being my personal favorite. Occasionally, something noteworthy did come up, and today was one of those rare days.
"As a matter of fact, I joined a pretty interesting club today," I announced after I finished chewing a bite of steak. It wasn't entirely the truth since I'd been a member of the club for just over a week by now, but I'd finally decided to bring it up with my family. "It came up at the end of my painting class and sounded too interesting to pass up so I decided to check it out."
Dad's eyes lit up in excitement at the news, nearly causing me to roll my own in response. While I very much understood that our parents loved us and wanted to know everything Zoey and I were up to, we
were
in our first year of college at this point. Worst case scenario, I supposed that meant we only had three more years of putting up with it.
"Oh? Did you finally decide to join a sports club?" he asked before eating a forkful of mashed potatoes.
This time I
did
roll my eyes, shoving down my annoyance at the question. I knew it was only because back when he'd been in college he'd been a member of the football team and, as a result, he'd always wanted me to follow in his footsteps, but sports had never interested me much at all. I'd always been far more interested in art--painting and sculpting in particular--and it felt like he still hadn't accepted that. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Zoey giving me a worried look, but I wasn't about to start that fight at the dinner table. Besides, this was all going to be worth it when he heard the name of the club.
Slightly smirking, I shook my head. "Nope, doesn't have anything to do with sports. It's called the Stimulation Club."
My dad's reaction exceeded all of my expectations as mashed potato sprayed everywhere, his eyes bulging comically wide.
"Mark!" my mom shrieked at him, giving me a quick worried look before turning to my dad. "Look at the mess you've made!"
Turning faintly red, my father finished swallowing the little remaining bit of potatoes still in his mouth before using his napkin to clean up the rest as best he could. "Sorry. I just--" His eyes fixed on me, brow furrowed. "
Stimulation
Club? What the hell were you thinking?"
Taking another bite of my steak, I chewed slowly instead of immediately responding. For her part, other than her clear frustration with the potato mess, Mom looked equally concerned, although slightly less so. Zoey, on the other hand, was clearly trying her hardest not to burst into laughter--her hand firmly pressed over her mouth while her green eyes twinkled merrily.
Swallowing, I looked back over at him. "Don't you think you should hear what the club is about before you jump to conclusions and start judging it?"
"The dinner table is hardly the place to discuss whatever sex club you've decided to join! I can't believe you'd--"
He cut off as Mom placed a hand on his arm, visibly squeezing as she frowned. "Don't be ridiculous. You know as well as I do that Zack would never do something like that, much less
tell
us about it if he did." Turning to face me, she gave me one of her serious looks. "You've had your fun, young man, now explain yourself."
"It's not a sex club," I said with a small smile, "despite what the name sounds like. They said that was the original name just to try and get people to join, but then it ended up sticking since it's funny and
is
an accurate description."
"So what is it then?" Zoey asked from where she was seated next to me, looking curious.
It was far easier to understand the club by personally experiencing it, but since I'd planned on bringing it up, I'd already come up with a reasonable explanation. "The more accurate name for it is probably the 'Imagination Club.' It's all about working on expanding your creativity and learning to use all of your senses when making something. Like, for instance, it's easy to paint a woman in a dress, but then it can become so much more by showing it blowing in the wind around her, and how that causes it to move."
Dad still looked a bit dubious, but both my mom and Zoey were slowly nodding along.
"That makes sense, but what does the club
do
to help with that?" Mom asked.
This was the tricky part because while it definitely
wasn't
a sex club, it was undeniably extremely sensual. "Well... we start by putting on blindfolds--"
"I knew it. It's a sex club," my dad said, his hand coming down on the table.
"Dad! Knock it off!" Zoey snapped before turning back to me. "Keep going, Zack."
"The blindfolds are, well, obviously to make it so you can't see anything. That's the sense we're already so used to when making art, so it doesn't need as much help as the others. Then, everyone pairs up and we just... talk. It's kinda hard to explain it, honestly, but one person describes something in as much detail as they possibly can and you try to picture it in your mind's eye."
"And that's it?" From my mom's tone, I could tell she was a bit skeptical. "There's no touching other anything else?"
Doing my best to keep a perfectly straight face, I nodded. "Yup, that's it. No touching." It was a lie, although not a very large one. There
was
technically touching sometimes involved, but only ever with consent from both members and
only
on the back. It was far easier to leave that part out, though, since it would only further make my parents think I'd joined an actual sex club. The other part I was making sure to leave out was that the club was almost entirely women, with only a handful of dudes.
Seemingly satisfied with my explanations, we all settled back into dinner, the conversation being replaced with the sounds of everyone eating a good meal. Once we finished, I was just about to take my leave when my dad spoke up again.
"And what about you, Zoey? Anything big happen?"
She shook her head. "Nope, nothing worth mentioning. Certainly didn't join an almost sex club like Zack did," she said with a wink in my direction.
"It's not a damn sex club!" I snapped, jumping to my feet and nearly sending my chair toppling over backward. Before anyone else could say anything I stormed off, stomping up the stairs to my bedroom. Earlier I'd worried it might be a mistake to bring the club up at all, but I hadn't expected Zoey to take my dad's side, even if she
had
almost certainly been teasing me.
The only reason I'd even decided to mention it was because the experience at the club had been truly amazing, opening my eyes to a new way of thinking about and creating art. It had been particularly well-timed since I felt like I'd fallen into a bit of a slump recently, especially after seeing how talented so many of my upperclassmen were. Back in high school, I'd felt like I'd been something special, only to realize in college that there were many people as good if not better than I was.
Closing the door of my room behind me--and
not
slamming it like I almost wanted to--I flipped the lights on and walked over to the easel in the far corner of my room at the foot of my bed. Stopping in front of it, I took a long look at the progress I'd made. Or rather, more accurately, the complete lack of progress. It was the true source of my irritation, and what had my temper on edge these days.
All I had so far was the vaguest shape of a human body imaginable, not even enough to say that it was a man or a woman, although I knew I was aiming for the latter of the two. It was especially frustrating because I'd started this piece well over a month ago, and this was as far as I'd gotten in all that time. Picking up my brush, I swore that today my lack of progress would finally change.
I'd just begun to feel like I was making some decent headway when a soft knock on my door broke me from my intense concentration. Glancing over at the digital clock on my bedside table, I was surprised to find the glowing numbers were showing that two whole hours had already passed. Before answering the door, I took a closer look at what I'd painted, noting that while the form was now at least far more feminine, I'd still made a disappointingly small amount of progress for the length of time I'd been working.
The interruption, then, was probably for the best. It was getting late, and continuing to try and force through my block any longer was unlikely to result in some kind of miraculous breakthrough--a lesson I'd learned long ago. Setting down my brush, I walked over to the door and pulled it open, having a pretty good idea of who it was on the other side. Unsurprisingly, I found that it was indeed Zoey, wringing her hands together. "What's up, sis?"
"Hey, can I come in? Wanna chat."
She was already leaning forward as she finished speaking, and I had no issue with her being in my room, so with a soft snort of amusement, I stepped back to hold the door open for her. "By all means. I'm surprised you'd want to be in the same room as a pervert who'd join a sex club, though."
Her face fell, and I immediately regretted the low blow. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I shouldn't have teased you about the club at dinner. I'm sorry. I feel like we usually get along really well and I don't want this hanging over us." She stopped talking, even though it seemed like she had more to say--looking at me with such a sad expression I felt my stomach clench.
Sighing heavily, I ran a hand through my hair in frustration not at her, but rather at myself. "Look, Z, I'm the one who's sorry, okay? I seriously overreacted downstairs and I shouldn't have blown up at you like that. I was pretty sure you were teasing me, but I'd just gotten so worked up from Dad's response."
She raised an eyebrow. "Even though you were specifically fishing for it?"
I couldn't help but laugh, despite the fact she was pointing out my own hypocrisy. "That's part of what I love about having you as my twin," I said. "You won't hesitate to call me out on my shit."
Zoey beamed up at me, and the sinking feeling in my stomach was immediately replaced by one of butterflies. I had to gently remind my body that no matter how beautiful my sister might look when she was smiling like that, she
was
my twin, and brothers don't get excited when their sister smiles at them--regardless of the situation.
