The invitation arrived. The postcard had a picture of a teapot in the shape of a shoe. You were partly amused and partly embarrassed as the postcard seemed so exposing.
The invitation read: Please arrive promptly on Saturday at 2 pm for tea, freshly prepared, delicious and fragrant.
You had been talking to her for weeks, sharing your darkest fantasies, ideas and things you hadn't told anyone. Knowing full well that her imaginative approach to things could take your desires and turn them into an encounter that would both challenge and arouse you, your need to submit was stronger than ever.
As the days ticked down, you read and reread the postcard, mulling over each word, wondering exactly what she meant, delicious and fragrant. You had an inkling but surely she wasn't going to do that, not yet.
Friday arrived and you enjoyed an hour chatting on the phone, on your knees by your bed. She checked you understood, discussed any concerns and ensured you knew that you could use your safe word if you felt you needed to. Her reassurance helped calm your nerves. You tried to find out exactly what she had in mind but she gave no more information except for telling you that she had planned only things you had consented and agreed to. Fuck! You had ticked yes to a whole host of things so that didn't narrow it down by much.
Sleeping would be hard fought tonight. Horny, nervous, apprehensive; every emotion was running through you as you let out a frustrated sigh. You tossed and turned for most of the night. Tea for two, two for tea, went round in your head. Fuck! I know what she is up to, was the last thought as you finally fell asleep.
Groggy and disorientated, you reached for the alarm. Urrrggh! 7am! After barely any sleep, you felt like crap but managed to drag yourself out of bed, needing a pee. You grinned.
Showered and shaved, smart casual had been the agreed dress code so you opted for well fitted jeans, a smart shirt and cuff links, aftershave and a watch. Your boots were polished. The last thing to do was to get a bunch of flowers and head out for the drive north.
You politely knocked on her front door. You nearly choked when a maid, dressed in a black dress, white apron and a little cap, opened it. Part of you wanted to turn and run but you remembered her telling you that you wouldn't need to serve the tea.
"Miss is expecting you," said the maid. "Please come in,"
Muttering your thanks, you noticed the maid stood a few inches taller than yourself but you took her at face value. Handing over the flowers you followed the maid into a room that was both comfortable and normal. Miss looked up at you and laughed as she arose.
