PRESENT DAY
"If you don't mind my saying, the young woman you are with is stunning," the man said. "I saw the two of you together yesterday. Honeymooning?"
"Thank you, I'm flattered. But no, she's not my wife, she's my Mistress," I replied.
The man sat back from his breakfast, looked around the cafe, and blinked hard. His reaction made me smile. Mistress Morrigan and I were on the tail-end of a week-long vacation across the Hawaiian islands and I'd begun to enjoy turning heads with her.
Perhaps this man had seen our foot worship session while we watched the sun set over Sweetheart Rock last night; god I loved the taste of her toes in my mouth. Or maybe he'd noticed her taking a sip of and then back-washing into every mai tai I'd imbibed at the Sports Bar the night before that.
While we are always careful to be private and subtle with our play, people can be surprisingly perceptive. But more than likely, this guy was probably just fishing for the story of what I, a guy in his late 30s, was doing with a gorgeous brunette obviously 10-15 years my junior, on the remote, luxury island of Lanai.
"I'm not quite sure I understand," the man said.
Well-trained and deep into subspace, I answered as if we were discussing the weather.
"I serve her," I replied, snatching the last piece of bacon from my plate, popping it in my mouth and washing it down with a final swig of coffee. "To use another set of terms, She's a Dominatrix and I'm her Slave."
"Well I ..."
Not waiting for the man to finish, I pushed out and stood up from the table. From the corner of my eye I could see the valet pulling a Jeep up and I knew my Queen wouldn't tolerate my keeping Her waiting.
"Corrupting more Vanillas, pet?" Mistress teased as she climbed into the passenger's seat and I hit the gas. " It's our last full day in paradise, let's give everyone in this place something to talk about."
FIVE YEARS EARLIER
It began with an evening barbeque.
Outdoors. Corn on the cob. Brats. Cold beer. A fire pit. Perfect for a summer night in the suburbs of Minneapolis, Minnesota.
Jim and Mary O'Hara, the hosts of this little get together, had been neighbors to my wife Lisa and I going on five years. We had nearly identical three-car-garage homes right next to one another in a neighborhood where everyone quietly competed over who maintained the best lawn and kept the cleanest cars.
I was 31 and had a solid, upwardly-mobile job in public relations, my college sweetheart-turned wife could still wear the same form-fitting pair of jeans I met her in a decade ago, and I'd even just run for and won a seat on the city council.
The O'Hara's were slightly older and our shared conversation hit all the notes you'd expect: the Minnesota Twins' poor season, how IPAs were becoming much too hoppy ...
Everything was predictable up until the O'Hara's eldest daughter, Deirdre, arrived home and joined us.
Wow, I thought, in the year she'd been away at the University of Notre Dame her 5'10 frame had matured from gangly-string bean into a toned, muscled young woman's body. And her long, brunette hair framed a pair of sparkling green eyes that radiated just a hint of life experience.
I was slightly drunk on Jim's homebrew as Deirdre gave us a rundown on her freshman year.
"... Just so busy ... the girls on the volleyball team are so great ... I even got the lead in a local production of Venus in Furs... So excited to turn 20 next month."
"Wait, what'd you just say, Deirdre," I nearly choked. "Venus in Furs? That seems a bit mature for the University of Notre Dame!"
All at once, I caught my wife's hard look, noticed Jim and Mary exchanging glances, and blushed as Deirdre met my remark with a sly grin.
"Oh yes, Bill, quite mature," Deirdre replied, emphasizing both my first name and the word 'mature'. "I'm impressed you've heard of it. It was an off-campus production and I think you would have enjoyed it."
"Our little actress," squealed Mary, ever the proud Mom.
The evening moved on, but I couldn't shake what I perceived as Deirdre's secret smile and flirtation towards me, 'think I would have enjoyed it,' indeed!
Later that night, indulging a years-old-habit, I slipped out from bed and down to my home study for a bit of solitude. Which is shorthand to say that I used the time to search for and masturbate to internet porn while chatting with like-minded kinksters on various chat boards.
I was stroking hard and nearing the home stretch when my cell phone buzzed with a text:
"Looks like you're enjoying yourself, Bill."
"Who is this?"
"Take your hand off your cock, naughty boy."
Instinctively, I complied, looking around frantically.
"Settle down, Bill. Hands at your side, face forward. And breathe."
Again, I followed directions.
"Good boy. Ur so cute and vulnerable like this," came then next text.
And then,
"Your wife doesn't know what she's missing :)"
Followed by, "Go to your front door and unlock it. Then go to your kitchen, pour a glass of the rose wine in the fridge and leave it on your office desk. Then, strip, get on your knees, and wait for me."
I'd already half lost my mind masturbating to porn, and these texts - as dangerous and strange as they were - were putting me over the edge.
So I followed them..
Thirty minutes later, I heard the front door open. And then I saw herr: a 5'10 vision of a Goddess, barefoot, and wearing a transparent smokey black latex babydoll dress with a faux leopard fur shawl thrown over Her shoulders.
"Deirdre!"
"Hush now, slut," she said, circling me once, before going over to the desk and picking up the glass of wine I'd left for her. She downed it smoothly through lips painted blood red.
"You've probably never noticed, but my bedroom window looks down into this office, Bill. And I've watched, no - I've admired you - from afar since I was a young girl."
"Deirdre, I ..."