The water had cooled and I climbed out of the bath, pulling the drain, drying myself slowly with a big fluffy towel. I went through my Sunday ritual of using my most expensive body lotion, rubbing the exotic smelling liquid over my skin, imagining a time when I might be going through all this not just for myself, but for someone else’s enjoyment. Closing the door on the bathroom cabinet, I took a moment to look at my face in the mirror.
Same old face; green eyes, shoulder length blonde hair. No wrinkles, yet. Pulling my hair up, away from my face, I toy once again with the idea of cutting it short. But I’d had a pixie hair cut in grade school and the memories of being mistaken for a boy still haunted me. I let it go, watching as it tumbled down around my shoulders. You’re safe from scissors once again.
Dressed in my nightgown and robe, I walked past my office. The desk light is on, the laptop dimmed but still powered up. I hit the touchpad and the screen brightened. The page for Collar Me is still open, right where I left it. And blinking in the upper left corner is a tiny red envelope icon; someone had sent me a message. I swallowed hard.
I pulled my office chair closer, hesitating just a moment before clicking the icon. The messages—there’s more than one—opened on my screen, and I held my breath as I read through them. The first one was so disgusting I deleted it before I even finished reading the first sentence.
The next message was pretty bland, but the photo enclosed was of a man wearing a wig, fishnet stockings and not much more. Um….not what I was looking for.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I clicked on the last brief message, thankfully with no additional photo included.
To: Venus247
From: Dom Meyers
‘Hello Venus247,
I saw your profile tonight and it interested me a great deal. If you’d like to chat, please reply. I’m new to this site, and new to the BDSM world as well. I get the sense you are too.
“Oh, holy shit.” I clicked on the link to his profile. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but I wasn’t sure why; he wasn’t a client at least. His profile listed his height at 6’ 3”, with black hair and blue eyes. Oh, blue eyes and tall. So far, so good.
He had several photos available in his profile, all highlighting his chiseled face and those impossibly blue eyes. The first was of him in a tight black t-shirt and low-slung jeans, leaning against a wall. He looked lean and rangy, not skinny, but not all big muscles. As much as I like husky guys, his body was very appealing to me. And I certainly liked the way he looked in his jeans.
But the next photo I opened took my breath away. He was looking directly into the camera, blue eyes so piercing they seemed almost unreal. His dark hair was just messy enough to keep it from looking too perfect. The smile undid me though; boyish and charming, but with a hint of something dark lurking around the edges. No innocent boy here at all; that’s a real man behind those good looks.
At first glance, he was almost pin-up pretty, but there was an edge to all that prettiness that made me suspect being dominant would be quite enjoyable for him. I could imagine him shirtless, barefoot, wearing the tattered jeans Christian Grey had worn—and nothing else—wielding a whip, while I was restrained, nak*d, begging him to use it on me, again…and again.
I realized I was breathing heavy, my heart pounding, my palms damp. Holy shit, just from a photo?
And no fishnet stockings or no women’s wigs in evidence in any of the photos, thank God. And below his photo was a line of green text: Member Is Online Now.
“I’ll be damned.” I went back to his message, read it again. Nothing offensive, he seemed normal so far. It took a long time for me to decide what to say. Finally I just said I was interested in chatting. I hit send.
Almost instantly Mr. Meyers replied back.
To: Miss Venus
From: Dom Meyers
Hi Venus,
Thank you for replying back. I’m really glad you did. To be honest, I was beginning to think I’d made a mistake in joining this site. While I know BDSM is not the norm, some of the replies I’ve gotten had me a little spooked.
Tell me a little about yourself and let’s see if we have anything in common.
(And my name is Jake…)
***
For the first time in years, I was late to work. It had been well past two o’clock in the morning when Jake and I had finally said good-night. His final message had kept me awake for a long time after we went off line; he’d asked if I wanted to meet in person.
Leslie finally called to remind me of our lunch plans. I’d spent the morning in a daze, robotically working through my emails and other tasks, going over in my head the conversations with Jake. Leslie said to meet her in the lobby of the building; we could walk around the corner to the Italian deli for a roast beef sandwich.
“So, what’s up with you today, Abby? You’re a million miles away.” We were in line, waiting to place our order. Leslie was making eyes at the counterman, like she always did. I usually teased her, claiming she only flirted to get extra sautéed mushrooms on her sandwich for free. But not today.
“I did something last night.” I wasn’t sure how to explain this. “I signed up on a dating site.”
Leslie rolled her eyes. “You’re kidding. Again? Which one this time?” We were at the counter. I placed my order, paid up, grabbed my soda and moved out of the line to grab a table. I heard Leslie rattle off her order and then she was right behind me, practically stepping on my heels so she could pry the gory details out of me.
“Okay. Spill the story. What have you done?” She took a sip of her San Pellegrino.
“Promise you won’t say anything until I’m finished, okay?” Leslie nodded.
I took a deep breath. “I registered on a BDSM website. I met a man on the site and we chatted most of the night.” Leslie was watching me, her mouth open, totally shocked.
“He’s asked to meet me in person.” I hesitated. “And I think I’m going to agree to meet him.”
Leslie was silent for a long time, staring at me. “You are nuts. A BDSM site? Since when do you like pain?” She sat back suddenly. “It’s those damn books, isn’t it?”
“It’s hard to explain, I guess. There something there that intrigues me. Not so much the pain, or not only the pain. But the whole control thing, giving up control to someone else in return for pleasure. It’s confusing, but it’s something that I want to try.”
Leslie shook her head. Our sandwiches arrived and we were quiet for a minute, trying to divide and conquer the behemoth sandwiches. We chewed in silence for a while when she finally spoke.
“You know I love you, Abby, but I’ve got to say, I think you’re making a big mistake.” She looked at me, her brown eyes serious. “But I know you, when you get something stuck in your mind, there’s no talking you out of it.”
I laughed. Leslie knew me better than I knew myself sometimes.
“So, now who is this mystery bondage guy? What’s he look like? Does he have a name?” Leslie finally gave in and attacked her sandwich with a fork, winding sticky globs of mozzarella cheese like spaghetti around the tines.
“Well, he’s over six feet, black hair, blue eyes….” Leslie grunted through a mouthful of sandwich. “…on the lean side. Not skinny, but wiry, maybe? Hard to tell in the picture, but not a really muscular guy. Nice looking. His name’s Jake.”
“Jake. Hmm, so you’re going to really do this?”
I nodded, wrapping up my sandwich in its paper. Suddenly I was nervous, my stomach fluttering. I took a deep breath.
“Yeah, I really am.”
***
When I got home, I immediately opened up my laptop, clicking on the website. There was a message from Jake waiting for me. I opened it gingerly, almost as if it were a ticking bomb. Somehow, safe in the darkness last night, lit only by the screen on my laptop, it had all seemed exciting and fun; in the harsh light of the fading afternoon Texas sun, it seemed silly and scary. What the hell am I doing?
It reminded me I hadn’t given him an answer to his question: if I’d like to meet in person. I took a deep breath, clicking the message icon.
To: Miss Venus
From: Dom Meyers
Hi Abby,
I enjoyed talking to you last night; I hope you did as well. I don’t want to rush you into meeting in person; I’m willing to let you make that decision. But I think we really have a connection. So, the ball is in your court (although I’m rushing the net).
Jake
I put the cursor in the reply box, watching it blink. Closing my eyes, I typed ‘Yes, I’d like to meet you too.’ I looked at the words on the screen and then, before I could change my mind, I clicked send.
My first reaction was to close the laptop and leave the room, but that was foolish. It was also foolish to watch the laptop screen, waiting for a reply. It brought back uncomfortable high school memories of sitting by the phone on a Saturday night, waiting for it to ring.
I was just pushing myself away from the desk when the soft chime of an incoming message sounded. The little red envelope was flashing. I clicked on the icon and a message from Jake opened on the screen.
Hi Abby,
I’d put a smiley face emoticon here, but I’m technically challenged when it comes to things like that. So I’ll just say that I’m very happy you’ve agreed to meet me. How about Georgia’s? If you’re free tonight, how about a drink, say, 8:00? Just casual, nothing too intense.
Jake
I knew the place; it was upscale, nice…some place I’d driven by but never been inside of. And tonight. Go…do it. Either you’ll enjoy yourself, or you’ll get it over with and be done with this.
Hi Jake,
Georgia’s sounds fine and so does 8:00. I’ll see you then.
Abby
* * *
The bedroom was a mess, clothes strewn everywhere. I’d taken a shower, tried to eat something, gave up on that and then tried to decide on something wear. ‘Something casual’ may be easy for him to say, but it sent me into a panic. I resisted the urge to call Leslie, simply because she would tell me I was crazy.
Finally I decided on a black silk tank and jacket and a pair of dark jeans. I added my favorite heeled boots, happy I could wear the four inch heels and not tower over Jake.
Hair was another issue. I brushed it out, put it up, curled it, brushed it out…and finally just let it curl around my shoulders. Jewelry was easier; black onyx bracelet and earrings, an assortment of silver chains and I called the outfit complete.
The only sure thing was the perfume; I splurge on a custom blend containing something called Dragon’s Blood. It’s exotic, indescribably floral and absolutely wonderful. I dabbed it behind my ears, at the base of my throat and my wrists…and for good measure, my cl**vage. Just the scent alone makes me feel confident and beautiful. Hopefully it would have a positive effect on Jake.
As luck would have it, I was late to Georgia’s. Traffic was snarled and by the time I parked, I was fifteen minutes late and growing flustered. I pulled open the door, the sounds of the bar spilling out into the cool night air, and slipped inside. I scanned the bar, looking for a tall man in a white t-shirt, which Jake said he’d be wearing.