With ease, the Uber driver got through the maze that was Mr. BDSM's apartment complex. Good thing it was modern and built on level ground, not like the roller coaster that was Sally's neighborhood, with steep hills galore, broken down streets, and old Victorian houses.
Since she didn't know how long their first meeting would last, Sally would not keep the driver waiting while she "conducted business". She would simply summon the same driver to return and take her home when the rendezvous was over.
As usual, she was dressed in drab, worn out clothes. For this encounter, as for any other, she had gathered her hair up in a ponytail, and put on her thick coke bottle glasses. The only thing remotely feminine about Sally at that moment was the fruit-smelling scent of her body wash.
Boring clothes not withstanding, Sally was hopeful this would be the beginning of a long lasting relationship with a new lover. Convinced that God had meant for Mr. BDSM to come into her life, to help fulfill her destiny of simplicity and humility, Sally put all her hopes into this first meeting.
When Thomas opened the door, Sally pleasantly remarked he was better looking than in his pic. He looked thinner, his blue eyes shone vividly, and his smile made him look rather handsome.
The photo he had initially emailed her was taken a few feet away, purposely allowing her to see his entire face and body. In that pic, he wore no expression. He looked as if he were taking a mug shot.
Now, in person, he smiled. But for some reason or other Sally didn't quite get a warm and fuzzy feeling.
To other females adept at sizing up such things, Thomas' Sadistic personality screamed trouble. He undoubtedly represented the Alpha Male whose only sexual outlet was BDSM.
But for Sally, he merely represented a new opportunity for her to get dick, and get it regularly.
"Hi there. You made it!" he greeted her enthusiastically at the door.
"Yeah."
"Please, come in. May I take your coat?" he offered.
"Yes", she answered, automatically reaching into her purse to grab... wait, there's no envelope, she reminded herself.
As he put her things in the cloakroom, he said, "Hope you didn't get lost along the way."
"No, my Uber driver has been in this area before, since it's so big and all."
"Yeah, it's pretty massive. We even have our own post office and convenient store, not to mention all the swimming pools, tennis courts, and gyms. It's like a city in itself actually."
"Yeah", Sally replied dismissively, not giving a shit what his complex had.
"Can I offer you a drink?" he asked, as he walked her down the long narrow hallway to his living room.
"Yes thank you, a Coke."
His living room was amply lit.
"One Coke coming up. I have to go to the kitchen for it. Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable. I shall return."
Sally looked around the spacious living room. The ceiling was high. The room looked like something out of an interior design magazine. Impeccable, as nothing was out of place; no papers strewn about, no clothes thrown over furniture, not so much as a speck of dust.
With the help of mirrors every which way, and marble floors, and shiny console surfaces, Thomas' living room was nothing short of elegant.
He returned from the kitchen.
"I'm now remembering from your emails that you don't drink", he stated, handing her a glass of soda with a coaster underneath.
"Thank you", she said quietly.
"You're welcome, Miss", he replied, and walked over to the built-in wet bar at the other end of the room. He would fix himself something slightly harder than soda pop. As he grabbed some tongs and an old-fashioned tumbler glass to start his scotch on the rocks, he figured he'd ask his guest some questions.
"I'm curious. What happens when you drink, or have you never tried alcohol?"
"I've tried it, but I'm allergic", she indicated.
"Really? Well then, I repeat, what happens when you drink?"
"Bad stuff."
Since she didn't care to discuss it, he quickly dropped the subject. Thomas was savvy enough of a conversationalist to avoid a verbal push and pull, knowing very well he'd get answers to his questions, eventually.
Now finished pouring his drink, Thomas came to sit down in an armchair facing Sally.
Taking a closer look at him now, as the dim lighting in the foyer and hallway hadn't allowed it, Sally observed he was wearing a well-fitting dark blue suit, a tie, and a crisp white shirt. His hair was dark, almost black, and cut very short. She could tell he was a man quite accustomed to properly maintaining himself. She smelled his aftershave.
"So, how are you feeling?" he asked, looking her up and down as inconspicuously as possible. He took a sip of his scotch.
"Good", she answered, distinctly feeling his eyes scanning her whole body.
He thought to himself, "I've got a monosyllabic Sub on my hands. Good. She needn't be too talkative anyway, except to vocalize her screams and cries when being tortured."
He asked boldly, "Do you think you would feel comfortable enough this evening to inspect my Playroom?"
"Yes."
She had answered without even having to think about it.
"I'm glad. I get the feeling you're quite fearless, Sally", he remarked.
"Yes."
"Good. Normally, I don't get a such a decisive "Yes" so soon into the first meeting."
"I'm not normal. In fact, you could say I'm quite abnormal", she responded.
"Well, I sort of gathered as much from our emails. I'm sensing you're rather out of the ordinary, I believe the term is 'extraordinary'."
No smile, no nod, no reaction whatsoever from Sally acknowledging Thomas' comment.
"Well, then shall I be so forward as to ask you another question? One that most would consider forward, at least..."
"Yes, anything", she encouraged.
"In our correspondence, you asked me more than once if any money would be changing hands between us. Why? Have you been paid before?"
"No, but I've paid someone", she admitted honestly, trying not to sound embarrassed.
Thomas was suddenly all ears, "What did you pay him to do, if I may ask?"
"To let me suck his cock... to give me all his cum."
His heart was now pounding a mile a minute, "Why would a female need to pay a male for that?"
"Because of his looks."
