"I sent him a cautious note, along with a photograph that showed my body from the neck down. Maybe I was being TOO cautious, but I wasn't ready to have naked photos of myself circulating around town with my real face or name attached! I reasoned that a good, long look at my lean, well-maintained figure would he enough to tell the man what he needed to know.A couple of weeks passed, and then I found a note in my mailbox telling me to drop by a certain club any Tuesday for the next month. "I'll be the one with the silver wine bucket," he promised."Don't go." Tamara said. "You haven't even talked to him on the phone. Are you crazy!" Look," I said. "We're meeting in a public place. I'll just steal a look at him and if I don't like what I see, I'll leave. No worries, right!?"Tamara just shook her head as I shimmied into a tight white skirt that she couldn't have worn since the summer of '67. It wasn't fair that I had such a firm, small belly since I'd had a kid and Tamara hadn't, but hey.. Spontaneity. Joy, even. My life would be grim indeed if it were always so serious. That’s part of why I treat being a dom the way I do, as play, as a game. It’s a way to relax and be playful. I mean, think of a BDSM club. Everyone is dressed up in costume. There’s music. There’re shows, interactive; it’s like being on a ride. It’s an X-rated Disney World for consenting adults. Taking it too seriously would ruin it, at least for me. Of course, people like Mistress Amy think I’m a hopeless amateur and poser. Clearly, I lack a sufficiently respectful attitude. As do you, my little harlot. But I can get away with it. You, on the other hand, you shall pay dearly for your lack of respect.”“Oh, whatever shall you do with me, Master?”Erik chuckled sinisterly, “I shall do whatever I want, as is both my right and duty.” He rocked back onto his feet and stood up smoothly, still holding her hands. “Come. My dungeon awaits you.”She rose carefully in her heels to join him. “Yes Master, your sex.
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