The Choin' Ind

**A fictional non-fiction**

Fashionable lateness had become part of my DNA. So, when I stepped through the doors of the unassuming storefront into the looking glass, I tried to make myself small and invisible. Taking a seat in an empty chair toward the back of the room, I avoided the stern eyes of the man standing in front teaching the class. When I dared a look at his face again, to my surprise what greeted me wasn't annoyance but curiosity. But that offered little comfort. I sank lower in my seat praying that his momentary notice of me would abate for the primal enthusiasm of the other attendees that demanded his attention in the room. No such luck. Doc pointed a thick finger in my direction and instructed me to come to the front of the room.

"I'd like you to assist in a demonstration," He stated with authority. Fuck. Me. Literally.

Doc, the instructor, wasn't what one would call a handsome man. Not in the conventional sense. He was tall and solidly built with a broad forehead and pinched features that settled in the middle of his unforgiving face. And though his gray eyes could penetrate your most resolute convictions, when he fixed them on you, they stayed in a sunless squint. But his best asset was his hands. They were the chokin' kind; rough as leather and imposing. Made for pleasure.

I'd met Doc before, at a Kink convention. He'd taught a class on Rough Body Play. Something I'd never considered of interest prior to that day but under his tutelage found mesmerizing. Later that night during a tapas party, I introduced myself to him. He was offering demonstrations on pressure point play. I nearly died when he took my small brown wrist in his hand. His touch was gentle despite the roughness of his skin. And when he pressed the pressure point there, sparks shot from my head to my clit and I buckled at the knees. I'd never felt so alive! From that moment, Doc became an obsession.

I joined an online social club for kinksters. Doc was a popular member. There were a few interesting titbits I gleaned from reading his profile and blog, but I knew there was more behind the surface. When the social club announced that he'd be instructing a class at a local Kink club, I jumped at the opportunity to see him in person again.

On the day of the event, I adorned my face with the usual minimalist makeup: eyeliner, mascara, lip-gloss and put on my most demure yet body-flattering outfit, a palazzo pants jumpsuit in all black with a gold tactile belt that cinched my waist just right. I've been told that I favor Vanessa E. Williams. Don't get me wrong, the only thing we shared in common was our glowing brown skin tone and regal African facial features. I'm not a small girl anymore, I'm not super fit by any stretch of the imagination. I'm what you'd call petit Rubenesque; a big busted shortie with a small waist, thick hips, and an ass out of this world. Now, again, don't get me wrong, I caught an eye or two in the streets, a wolf-whistle here and there but I've never stopped traffic. And I'm okay with that. After a quick mirror check, I hooked the only designer purse I own onto my shoulder and headed off to the event.

Back at the event, my legs were jelly as I made my way to the front of the room to Doc. He waited patiently, a serious but inviting expression beckoning me closer. If he only knew the raging waters inside of me. How my emotions were slamming against each other as I took one...two...three steps nearer to him. When I made it to the front, I was stunned to still be standing. He gently guided me to where he wanted me and turned me to face the audience. Doc's the magician and I'm his assistant in service to the next big reveal. He moved behind me, a shadow imposing like those big hands of his. My nose picked up the natural scent of him; clean, masculine, unique. Swoon-worthy was not a worthy description, everything about him was infinitesimally right.

Tension built in my shoulders as Doc leaned in close to my ear. "Relax," he said and my body responded like a bitch to a tuning fork. He had my wrist in his hand and if this were another moment in another time, I'd think he planned to propose. A girl should be so lucky. Instead, he held it like it's fine china, careful, caring, and then when I'm fully relaxed, fully trusting, and at the melting point, he pressed that button that released a rush of endorphins into my brain. I'm filled with light, warm strings of light that are attached to every nerve in my body. My mouth opened but nothing decipherable came out but a low hiss of pleasure. His...pleasure.

When he released me, I was too dazed to react. And the stupid smile curving my full lips didn't help to conceal my emotions like I hoped it would. My plan to keep things casual and cool had been dashed in less than five minutes. I'd been found out, now, what to do? Collecting myself, I ran a manicured hand through my straightened hair and gathered my wits.

"Wow, that was...just wow," is all I could muster. Heat fanned in my cheeks as my eyes rose to the audience that sat riveted by the exchange. Embarrassed, I longed to run down the aisle and retreat to my seat for the duration of the event. But Doc hadn't finished with me yet.