I head up the stairs, enjoying the view of the beach through the two-story windows as I go. I try to imagine what it would be like to make enough money to afford a place like this. “Not going to happen in this lifetime,” I mutter to Fluff, who follows me upstairs. Because there are six doors to choose from, I put down the basket at the top of the stairs and head for the end of the hallway to find the laundry room.
The first three doors open to spacious bedrooms that look out over the beach. There isn’t a bad view to be had in this place. Behind the fourth door is a massive master bedroom. Intrigued, I venture inside to check out the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. It is easily twice the size of Flynn’s California king. What does a single guy need with a bed that size?
Off the bedroom is an equally huge bathroom, where I find the full-size washer and dryer tucked behind a closed door. I’m going to get the basket when the closet catches my eye, and apparently Fluff’s eye, too, as she wanders into the walk-in closet. I call out to her to come back, but she doesn’t. No surprise there, so I go after her.
Holy shit, the guy has some clothes! Most of them in muted colors—grays, blacks, browns. Everything is color-coordinated and neatly arranged. I venture farther into the closet, past rows of shoes and drawers of all sizes to another door that Fluff has nudged open.
“Fluff, come here. We shouldn’t be in here.” She’s in the far corner, sniffing up a storm. The second room appears to be a gym of some sort—until I look more closely at the equipment. I’ve never seen any of this stuff at the gyms I’ve frequented. What the hell is it? On one wall, a set of drawers beckons me.
At this point, I have to acknowledge that what I am doing counts as snooping. I found the laundry room and checked out the amazing closet. If I open these drawers to see what’s inside them, I will cross a line that can’t be uncrossed. But I can’t seem to help myself. I want to know what all this stuff is for.
I look down at Fluff. “What would you do?”
She barks, which I take to mean, “Go for it.”
“You’re a bad influence. You have no moral compass whatsoever.”
Her reply is two more sharp barks that sound like agreement.
I can’t explain what makes me do it. This is way out of character for someone who has kept to herself and out of other people’s business for most of her life. Because I kept a low profile, no one paid much attention to me, and I liked it that way. I have no experience at all in minding other people’s business.
But I want to know what’s in those drawers, so I walk over to them and begin opening them. They are filled with a variety of objects I don’t recognize—most of them rubbery materials in odd shapes and sizes. In the second drawer, I find more of the same, only these are shaped like penises—very big penises. Why in the hell does Hayden keep large rubber penises in his house?
The question makes me giggle nervously. Does Flynn know about this? The thought of telling him only adds to my nervous laughter. In the third drawer, I find shiny metal objects that look like clips of some sort alongside feathers and strips of velvet.
I take another long look around the room, at the oddly shaped weight bench and the big cross that takes up most of the space. On the wall, wooden paddles that look like oversized Ping-Pong paddles hang next to what might be a collection of riding crops. Affixed to the ceiling are a series of ropes attached to pulleys. “What the hell, Fluff?”
Then I open the bottom drawer to find boxes of condoms and bottles of lubricant. “Oh my God.” Suddenly, I want out of there. I’ve seen more than enough to ensure that I’ll never again be able to look Hayden Roth in the eyes.
I shoo Fluff from the room and go grab the laundry. As I start the wash, I try not to think about what I saw in Hayden’s secret room. What does it mean? How does it work? What does he do with all those items? With the washing machine running, I go downstairs, my mind racing as I try to process it all.
I go straight to the laptop in Hayden’s office and begin poking around online, my curiosity only growing as I realize that what I’ve stumbled upon is Hayden’s “playroom.” I learn that these rooms are frequently found in the homes of sexual dominants.
Clicking from one website to another, I follow a trail of information and pictures that make my eyes pop out of my head. People actually do this stuff? I see a woman stretched over what I now realize is a spanking bench while her “Dom” uses a paddle on her ass. Another woman is strapped to the St. Andrew’s cross with clamps on her nipples. A chain connects them as well as the one that’s apparently affixed to her clitoris.