Syd McGinley

  RINNIE-R Ø NNE

  Author's Note: Rinnie-R ø nne takes place during Attitude Adjustments 9.

  I

  I don't much like airports, but I can handle them. I nod at a TSA official as I wait by the baggage carousel. I can't look that suspicious —I've shaved and didn't ride my bike. I look down. Jeans, plain white t-shirt, and all-black Chucks. Dave's converted me to Converse when I'm not riding or doing heavy work.

  "You look very vanilla, boy."

  I turn fast. "Pol! You snuck up on me!"

  We clasp in a forearm handshake.

  "Just carryon, boy." He holds up a small backpack and a suit bag.

  I lead the way out to short-term parking, and Pol hooks an eyebrow at the gleaming new Saab convertible I'm unlocking.

  "Not mine. It's technically Laurie's since Simon can't drive. I hope you don't mind staying with them, but my spare room is full."

  Pol grunts. "Well, John, when you invited me, I did expect to stay with you, but this will give me a chance to observe this Rinnie boy more thoroughly."

  I grimace at the mildness of the rebuke. "We can't ask Casey to leave until she has a home."

  "Of course not. But how did you end up in such a predicament?"

  "Honoring a promise my boy made," I say glumly as we make it out of the parking lot. I half expect Pol to take me to task for being a weak owner, but he nods approvingly.

  "Good, I'm glad you and Dave are so solid."

  "I think you'll like him, Pol. He's, uh —" God, how to explain Dave? He's not subby or passive or even a leather boy, but he's my complement.

  "He's yours, John. That's enough."

  "Yeah. It is."

  Pol gives his superior smile. "John: trust me and trust him."

  I focus on driving. Since I don't have my license, I'm really stressed about this, but I couldn't think how to object to the pick-up plan. I hate breaking rules. Dave is still mad that I won't let him have a beer even at home. His dad used to let him have a beer when they watched football together.

  Driving isn't the only thing stressing me, of course. What if Pol calls me "boy" in front of the others? What if twink —in full "I want a baby" mode—meets him? What if Laurie has a prima donna regression? What if he and Rinnie hate each other? Shit.

  "Relax, boy," says Pol. "I won't embarrass you."

  I snort. "It's more the other way around that I'm worried about. These guys..." I trail off. I often bitch to myself about the rich Doms, but it feels disloyal all of a sudden. They're not so bad. "They're not as lifestyle as you, Pol. But I think Rinaldo will flourish with you."

  "We all take what we need from the discipline," replies Pol calmly.

  Fuck, he's mellow. Of course, we are equals right now. I forget that around him sometimes. I pull into Simon's driveway. Dave's ancient truck is off to one side. It's spotless, but its dents give it a disreputable air.

  "My boy's," I say proudly. "He loves every beat-up inch of it."

  "I can tell," says Pol.

  I glance to check for irony, but he's looking at me, not the truck. I give a half-smile and mutter, "Smartass."

  I am saved by the door opening. Laurie comes out, on best behavior, and he respectfully greets Pol and takes his bags.

  Simon is still recovering from his car accident and stays seated to shake Pol's hand, but they are cordial. Dave comes in from the kitchen with a coffee tray and serves well, but I frown. We'd agreed that would be Rinnie's task and that Dave would be off duty in a house with two boys.

  Dave pours my cup last. "He's having a shy nervous fit," he whispers to me. "He's sure Pol will think he's stupid, plain, geeky, and something else —I forget what."

  "Stupid and geeky?"

  Dave squishes onto the love seat next to me. "Well, I told him that was silly, and that made him all panicky, too. I'm not the right person to reassure him."

  I sigh. "And I am?"

  Dave smothers a hoot. "Actually, yes, sir. He needs a smack on the ass."

  "You could do that," I suggest.

  Dave shakes his head. "No, he needs a sir."

  "Well, he won't get one hiding in the kitchen," I grumble, and get up to retrieve him.

  Rinnie gives me a panic-stricken look. "I will drop my feet in, Dr. Fell!"

  "No, you won't, Rinaldo. First, you don't have to talk yet. Just say 'good afternoon, Dr. R ø nne' when I introduce you. Second, he knows what it is like to be using another language, and third, you never put your foot in anything —you are a very tactful boy."

  Rinnie chews his lower lip. "I am scared, sir."

  I give the boy a hug and Dave's prescribed ass slap. "You don't have to go to him if you don't want to."

  "Scared he won't want me," whispers Rinnie.

  "Aw, boy. Why would he not? You're lovely, smart, a good cook, and funny." I release him from my hug. "Maybe you won't be a match, but that doesn't change anything about what a good boy you are."

  I feel bad for Rinnie —his experience with Steve sucked, and it speaks volumes about the boy that he's persevered with being a student and a sub. I take his hand and lead him out. Despite his fears, his hand is cool and dry, and I give it a little squeeze as we stop in front of Pol.

  "Rinaldo, this is Dr. R ø nne."

  Rinnie gives a gasp and blurts out, "GoodafternoonDr. R ø nne."

  I nudge him so that he looks up enough to see Pol is holding out his hand. Rinnie is startled at the courtesy, but then his old owner treated him like a dog.

  Rinnie has gone pink as Pol shakes his hand, and then doesn't release it.

  "Sit next to me, bashful boy," teases Pol and tugs Rinnie's hand. "And pour yourself a cup of coffee."

  Rinnie has his huge orphan eyes fixed on me as he sits across the room. Pol is chatting again to Simon and letting Rinnie sit quietly. I don't think Rinnie takes a single sip of his obediently poured coffee. Dave wriggles next to me.

  "You are so the yenta, sir."

  "Young people can't decide these things themselves," I mutter, even as I count my blessings that Tommy isn't here to burst into Fiddler on the Roof. And decide to give Dave a damn good spanking tonight.

 

 

  Syd McGinley, Rinnie-Ronne

  Thanks for reading the books on GrayCity.Net