Texture of Desire [part 1]

THE MESSAGE appeared on his mobile on a Thursday at 10pm: ‘Next Friday evening, NYC. Let me know what time we depart.’ Arrangements were made, details confirmed and they met in the airport lounge. He had a drink prepared, ready for her, as he took her carry-on from her hands. When they arrived it was still early in the City. Departing in the evening and arriving in the afternoon always felt like the hours that

Like oil over water

HE ARRIVED a few minutes after her. Standing at the entranceway, bundled in a jacket and scarf, her umbrella pooled raindrops at her feet. She smiled when she saw him approach, looping her arm through his and directed him through the doorway.  They checked in at the front desk, giving fake names because it never mattered anyway. Led down a black staircase by a tidy woman in a grey spa uniform, they were directed to

FemDom Mistress looking

(work in progress)

YOU SAT AT THE table, waiting patiently for me to appear. The instructions had been clear – order a glass of red wine and then wait in silence for my arrival, forbidden to speak to anyone including the wait staff. It felt like ages as the minutes ticked by. You kept your gaze averted in hopes that you would not attract unneeded attention and be forced to be rude to the waitress. A wave of

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