It was my car, but I had parked it by the cinema inSlough. How had it got here?I put my black jacket on and thought I could at least zip it up to covermy bra and the spaghetti straps of the top part of my slip when I got outof the car park.I recalled how when me and the lads went to the pub and a sexy womanpassed by we might sing something like "Get your tits out for the lads."The shoe was on the other foot now.Mary Jane shoes to be precise.And I didn't have time to unstrap them.I had driven out of the underground car park into what turned out to berush hour traffic on the Euston Road.At least I now knew where I was I thought, but there would be a series oflights before I got onto the A40 at Hangar Lane and would have only thespeed cameras to worry about.As I said when I was in the car park I had originally thought I would zipthe jacket up to cover my slip and bra but it was hot and I didn't wantto open the windows. I decided I had better leave my jacket undone,effectively showing. I sat down hard on the edge of the bed, thinking. She let go of me when I did that, of course; then she started to sit next to me in order to recapture our broken physical intimacy; but she finally just stood there before me, her gaze submissively downward, her arms at her sides, waiting. How had all this happened so quickly? Two weeks before, I was an emotional cripple over the loss of a wife through divorce; and today I was ... what... ? A master to a sex slave? At what point should I call it quits with all of this? When should I simply end this little game? But ... I hadn't solved the puzzle yet. How had such a concept as emotional slavery become so ingrained in Dawn's psyche? I had to figure this out. Perhaps just a little while longer."Very well," I told her; and she looked up at me sharply, a huge smile on her face. "But with one restriction." Her bright countenance didn't fade, but she cocked her head in question. "You may only call me that while you are naked," I continued..
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