Chapter 1

In five years I've had four 'dates', and none lasted more than a few hours. They didn't feel right. Nothing 'clicked'. But I haven't been completely out of the picture. On occasions I was called upon for demos, and happily agreed, pleased my skills were appreciated. And I've been involved in a number of scenes with my friends. I wouldn't say I 'dropped out' of the lifestyle, but I certainly wasn't an active participant.

Perhaps I was marking time, unready to return. Or perhaps it was fate. Or maybe I talked myself into believing it was one or the other. In those days, random thoughts swirled through my mind like fire in the hearth. They scorched each other to ash as the flames danced, and I contemplated yet another day of emptiness. I was moribund and morose. Rebecca would not have been pleased.

She would have crowbarred me out the door and into someone's arms just to give me a smile, no matter how long it lasted. She hated seeing me unhappy. But she was gone. I knew that. Though it took me twelve months to make my first visit to her grave, I finally managed it. I go twice a year now, as the dates of her birth and death are almost six months apart.

Three weeks ago, I was returning from the cemetery, negotiating the tight bends down the side of the hill, when on a whim I pulled over to watch the sun setting over the sea. Drawing my jacket around me as the colours played, I pondered the fact that I found beauty in most things, as long as they were pure and simple like the sunset. I want simplicity back in my life. At the time I thought it was somewhat of an epiphany, though I grappled with its meaning.

At face value, one would say my life was simple, maybe even too simple. I worked, and I came home to an empty house. My friends suggested I get involved in something, or give a chance to one of the submissives they knew. Most often I would decline, but sometimes I accepted, usually ruing the fact as my performances rarely crackled.

I wasn't depressed, just numb. And unfortunately, short-tempered.

I didn't have the patience to work through the baggage a long time submissive often carried. I knew that was unfair, especially as I could hardly expect an experienced sub to want to work through my own baggage. I want simplicity back... I didn't want to be alone, but I didn't want to butt heads with someone who thought they knew everything, either. I wasn't in the mood, and I hadn't been for years.

It was about eight P.M. one Friday night, almost five months ago. I remember because I'd been looking forward to a quiet evening at home, sipping cognac in front of the fire. It had taken a few phone calls and a great deal of convincing to get me out of the house in the first place.

I had just arrived at the designated location for our local 'munch' when I saw her hovering outside the front gate of the residence, biting a nail. I didn't recognise her, and the poor girl was so obviously nervous and new that I couldn't help but feel sympathetic. "Can I help you?" I asked, ready to reassure her she'd be safe if she chose to stay.

"Um... No! Sorry. I mean... Oh, it doesn't matter!"

With those few words, I doubted she could have expressed her fear and confusion more succinctly. Hurriedly covering her face like a criminal, she took off into the night without looking back.

During the meeting, I couldn't say I paid much attention. I should have stopped her leaving. I should have told her it was okay to be afraid. She had touched something inside me, and I couldn't get her frightened face out of my mind. Our brief, anonymous encounter lit a candle, and for a few short months it flickered.

I arrived early at each of the next two meetings and waited outside, hoping she might show, but she never did. I have attended meetings since, but I haven't looked for her. In my heart I knew she had given up and would not be returning. The pragmatist in me moved on.

It took me weeks to work up the courage to attend my first 'munch'. I remember spending most of that day trying to stay positive and busy, and to 'not think about it'. When the time finally rolled around, I chose my navy skirt and jacket, hoping that 'power dressing' would make me feel less vulnerable. I was still scared shitless.

No amount of reading had prepared me to cross the threshold into the BDSM lifestyle. I read enough to know a munch wasn't a fearful experience. I knew what to expect. I just didn't know if it was really for me. I thought it was, but I just didn't know. I drove there in a daze and arrived a few minutes early. Climbing out of the car, I hesitated on the sidewalk out front.

No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't bring myself to push through the gate and go in. I was on my second fingernail when a tall figure loomed over me and, in a deep voice, asked me a question. I can't even remember exactly what it was, or how I replied. All I remember was needing to get out of there and finally doing it, hiding my face and hardly believing I had the audacity to make it as far as I did.

After that I made a decision. No more BDSM stories! Sideswiping 'the lifestyle' was completely unnerving and was as close as I'd ever get. I couldn't do it again. I was a wimp, pure and simple. Consigning my desires to the realm of fantasy, I forever pushed them to the back of my mind.

Still, sometimes in the dead of night I would wake in a cold sweat and cry myself to sleep again, wondering what was wrong with me.

About two weeks ago, I actually got away from work on time. In an unusual confluence of events, I also happened to have caught a train that day, rather than driving. I was standing on the city platform, waiting for the train home, when I saw her standing alone in the crowd of commuters. For a moment I thought I was seeing things, but as I made my way closer, I realised I was not mistaken. I had to stop myself from approaching her directly. Instead I took a few breaths and tried to think.

I didn't want to frighten her by coming right out and telling her I saw her at the munch, unless I thought it was absolutely necessary. I didn't want her to think I was stalking her. I was privy to information about what might interest her, yet I was still a stranger to her. Shaking my head, I pondered the fact that I didn't even know her yet, and was already seeing myself with her. God, she looked even better than I remembered.

The train that balmy summer evening was crammed full of commuters, but as it picked up speed, I managed to find myself against her. Her scent clouded my mind and my cock responded against my will. We were pressed together like sardines and I tried to move back an inch or two, but as fate would have it, the train jolted and I caught her as she stumbled. For a delicious moment, I held her with my thick cock pressed against her hip.

"Sorry," I whispered, watching the blush creep up her neck and flow to her cheeks. Damn, I thought. How lovely.

From the corner of my eye I noticed him looking at me on the train platform. He was handsome, tall, dark-haired and greying at the temples. He was immaculately dressed and I tried to stand straighter to keep his attention. Feeling the hairs rising on the back of my neck, on more than one occasion I confirmed his nearness with a sly glance. There was something about his eyes that intrigued me, but I couldn't bring myself to look right at him. Not yet.

The train arrived and in the usual confusion, I thought he was gone. I have to admit, I was a bit disappointed. I was hoping he might have talked to me. In the crush of the carriage, I almost fainted when I realised he was right next to me. Chewing the inside of my cheek, I stared out the window and tried to stay calm, but inside I was awakening. Who was this man who had such an effect on me? The smell of him was intoxicating, and each time I felt his body make contact with mine, I held my breath. This is like a dream, I remember thinking. Suddenly the train shuddered and I thought I might fall. He caught me with his hand around my shoulder, steadying me against his hard body, and our eyes met. Up close, they were incredible. They were jade green and flawless. But there was much more than just the colour. In a split second I felt his pain and his strength, his calm and his intensity. Then I felt his cock against my hip.

'Sorry, ' he said quietly, the look in his eyes disappearing, replaced by one of curiosity, as though daring me to react. I almost swooned. My pussy moistened wickedly and I blushed fiercely.

Sitting at my vanity and recalling all this, I felt the heat again as I stared into the mirror. I was mindlessly plucking my nipples as I reminisced, and hadn't even realised I was doing it. My clit was throbbing softly, trying to get my attention. I'd been like this for hours, waiting for the evening to arrive.

Most of the guys I've been out with stumbled through our dates with inappropriate comments intended to amuse, or turned into octopi as soon as they'd drunk enough. Hell, it was bad enough feeling like I was doing them a favour going out with them in the first place, but that's how some of them made me feel. I certainly couldn't bring myself to indulge arrogant assholes either. I wanted something more complicated. I wanted someone I could please. I wanted someone who appealed to me on different levels and who I could respect as my intellectual equal. I wanted him to have at least ten years more experience in life than me and to be confident in himself. I really wanted to desire him physically too. I hoped my expectations weren't set too high.

In my dreams, I knew I would find him one day. Or he would find me.

I stood and pulled the slinky black silk dress over my naked body and pulled down the hem. I can't believe I am going out in just this, I thought, shaking my head. Reaching behind myself, I felt the material end a few inches below my ass.

My eyes travelled up my body in the mirror. I smiled at the points my nipples were making in the silk. Goose bumps rose on my skin and tingles began in my pussy again. Sitting back down in front of the mirror, I decided 'less was better', and opened my makeup kit.

At least a week of teasing had gone by, and I was at the point of giving him embarrassed smiles when he acknowledged me with a nod of his head. I was starting to wonder if he was gay or married or something. I wasn't laying it on thick, I wasn't capable of that, but I thought I was making it obvious that I was available if he wanted to ask me out. Maybe I wasn't being as obvious as I hoped.

This afternoon I had almost bumped into him, right there on the train platform on the way home from work. Never before in my entire life had I asked a man out, yet before I knew what I was doing, I blurted out an invitation to have a drink with me.

"All right," was all he said. He wrote down a time and place on a business card. He also wrote, 'Black silk dress, red heels. Nothing else.' I couldn't even respond as I read the words. I could hardly believe they were there, right in front of me. As I held the card in my shaking hand, I wondered how he could assume something like that? How did he know I wouldn't slap him? 'Andrew Hodges' it said on the card. I could barely squeak out 'Dominique Harris' before he disappeared into the crowd.

God, I thought. If he's a Dom, I'll just die.

I have plans, I thought for the first time in too long. Dominique was her name. Dominique Harris. And I had a date with her.

I was quite surprised when she asked if I'd like to have a drink with her. I wondered if I had misjudged her personality. But there it was, 'the fear of rejection', right in her eyes. I couldn't bring myself to tease her when I was actually proud of her. Besides, I was waiting for her before the turnstiles, to ask her the same thing when she bumped into me. As a crowd pushed past us, I wrote the name of a local bar and the time to be there on one of my business cards. I added what she should wear before placing it in her hand. I slipped into the crowd and away, wondering whether she would lose her nerve again.

I arrived at Alfredo's ten minutes early and she was right on time, dressed exactly as I had requested. 'Black silk dress and red heels'. I had to assume she was wearing nothing else, however it was quite obvious she was braless. I smiled and told her I was impressed. To be honest I could barely tear my eyes from her.

"Let's get a drink," I said, trying not to pay her too much attention. At this stage of our 'relationship' I had particular ideas about how things should proceed. Of course, she still had no idea I had seen her outside the munch meeting. I had already decided I would see how far she would let me go before I came clean with her. It was going to be fun and I was really looking forward to getting to know her.

Opening the door of the bar and holding it for her, she flashed a smile at me before heading inside. The door swung closed and I gently took her by the elbow, guiding her over to a corner booth some way from the bar itself. I asked Dominique if wine was okay and when she agreed, I motioned to a waitress and ordered for us. She returned with a bottle and glasses and I dismissed her to pour myself.

We introduced ourselves again and engaged in small talk. Dominique was delightful, and she hung on my every word. She flirted with her eyes but kept her distance, like a puppy unsure of its new owner, wanting to please yet afraid of making a mistake.

In a quiet moment I touched the back of her hand and she withdrew it into her lap, blushing prettily. I softly chastised her. Leaning into her, our shoulders touched and I told her to sit with her ass directly on the leather seat. "If I want to touch you, and you withdraw, you must be punished," I whispered, wondering what she might do.