I Am a Dominant by Maggie Carpenter

Author:Maggie Carpenter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Maggie Carpenter
Published: 2014-11-12T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Submissive Who Wasn’t

It was a Thursday night, I was at the club by myself, and when I wandered into the playroom I saw a lone woman standing in the shadows. I watched for a few minutes, waiting to see if anyone joined her, but when no-one did I moved closer; she was certainly attractive, probably in her thirties, and wearing an apprehensive look. I could have simply walked up and introduced myself, but I thought it better to have Charles do the honors, then at least she would have some assurance I was known to the management of the club.

When Charles walked me over she broke into a smile and it was clear she was grateful for the company. Her name was Helen Baker, and when I suggested we move downstairs and have a drink she readily agreed.

As I had matured, my interest in engaging in activity with a woman just for the sake of it had waned. Physical attraction may draw me in, but not enough to immediately leap between the sheets. Had I met Mirren at this point in my life it is highly doubtful we would have ended up in a small, tacky hotel room, or even a nice one.

Moving into the light of the staircase Helen’s full figure became evident, and I found it immensely attractive. She’d chosen her wardrobe well; it was provocative, but not excessively so, her bustier top showed just the right amount of cleavage, and her black pants offered a subtle view of her full, round, plump cheeks. Long honey-blonde hair fell around her shoulders and as we sat down her deep blue eyes stared back at me hopefully.

“You looked a bit sad up there,” I began.

“I was a bit. I’m never sure if it helps or hurts to come here,” she replied.

“Because at home you feel at odds, but when you come here you wish you were with someone?”

“Yes, exactly,” she sighed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to complain.”

“Hey, no apology needed. It’s tough being like we are and having no-one to scratch the itch.”

“Yes, that’s the perfect way to put it,” she nodded enthusiastically, “no-one to scratch the itch.”

“Perhaps we can meet for coffee or lunch, get to know each other better, and see if there’s an interest in some mutual scratching.”

She broke into a delightful laugh and that did it for me; I was definitely interested. It turned out she worked not far from my office, so we arranged to meet for lunch the following day at a small bistro convenient for us both.

It was October, that magical time of the year when we have spotty showers, a mixture of clouds and sun, and some cold days thrown in to remind us that winter is just around the corner.

When I left my building to meet her I was met with some sprinkles and quickened my step; sprinkles can evaporate or turn into rain, and I’d neglected to bring my umbrella. Much to my chagrin Mother Nature decided to

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