Dave arrives at the bar

Dave pulled up in his Audi and looked at the entrance to the bar. He sat staring at the steering wheel for about a minute before swearing and hitting the wheel and then getting out of the car. Damn the guys! He did not deserve this. He stood nervously by the car, his 6ft2" frame solid with gym built muscle. He was wearing jeans, trainers and a plain t-shirt under a baggy hoody. He pulled the hood up to cover his well kept blond hair and checked himself out in the wing mirror. Yeah, the hood did enough to hide who he was for a distance, but anyone getting close would recognise his piercing blue eyes and handsome features. He had featured enough in the local press over the last couple of years - and that would only increase once he got signed up by one of the national teams.

But that was still some months away. For now, he had to pay this stupid forfeit. Still, it shouldn't be too bad - he just had to go in, order a beer and sit there until 9pm. He checked his watch - 6:50pm. The forfeit said he had to be inside by 7, so he slouched over, kicking his shoes against the asphalt as he wandered towards the door.

It looked so normal from out here. A black double door, painted years ago judging by the chips and faded lines on it. The security guards outside looked pretty normal too - although as he got close, he could see that both seriously outweighed him in both height and pure muscle. He could also see that both were wearing leather jeans that looked as though they were painted on. He stepped towards the door, and stopped as one man raised a meaty hand. He put his hand in his pocket for his wallet, expecting to be asked for ID.

"Sorry, kid. You don't meet the dress-code."

"Dress-code?" Seriously, this dive has a dress code? Dave looked up to where the other guard was pointing at a sign: "Tonight: Fetish Night. Dress-code: Leather, rubber, spandex, lycra."

"Oh." For a moment, Dave thought he could use this to get out of the forfeit - but then rationalised that the team would probably think of something worse. "Look, fellas, can't you make an exception?"

The two guards chuckled. "No exceptions, kid. Why'd you think we're wearing these trousers? Ain't our choice - it's the rule."

Dave sighed. "Ok, thanks I guess." He turned away, secretly relieved that he wouldn't have to go in. He'd heard the stories about this place and didn't want to find out if they were true. Unlike some of his team, he wasn't attracted to men and had no desire to be the centre of attention for some disgusting, leering old queers.

Before he could step away, the guards hand landed on his shoulder. "Wait a second, kid. The boss provided us with these trousers and boots. He left a set for Manuel but he isn't on duty tonight. You look kind of his size. That should do you."

Dave considered walking away - but then thought it was best to get this over with. "Sure, dude, thanks." The bigger man grinned and opened the door. he accompanied Dave to a "Staff Only" door, stepped through and quickly returned with a folded stack of leather and a pair of tall boots. "There you go, kid. You can use the restroom to get changed." Dave thanked him and headed into the toilets to get changed. Five minutes later he was back.

His legs were now covered in tight black leather, secured in place by a thick leather belt. The buckle on the belt was crafted to look like a pair of handcuffs. His feet were in knee high boots that were zipped up the back and buckled at ankle and at the top. Every move he made was accompanied by the leather creaking. The guard grinned. "Much better kid. Talk to Frank at the Cloakroom and he'll store your clothes for you. Might want to dump the hoodie too - it's pretty warm tonight." Dave paused and then stripped the hoodie off, revealing the tight white Underarmour shirt that showed off his physique. The guard openly appraised him. "Damn, kid, you shouldn't keep that hidden away. You go on in now." With that, he stepped back outside, leaving Dave alone in the corridor.