"Sly, I tell you I'm not doing it, and that's final!" I actually stamped my foot. Jesus, I didn't think anyone did that since the Victorians. But just then it felt
right
, dammit.
Sly looked hard at me for a moment and then turned on his wheedling mode. He knows when he's pushed me too far. He also knows I'm a sap for a reasonable argument if he can get me to calm down long enough to listen.
"Princess, you like role-playing, no?"
Sly and I were sitting around in his apartment, waiting for a client. I was wearing my working outfit of a black nylon negligee with stockings and heels, trying to figure out how to look sexy whilst avoiding goosebumps. That outfit is great for what it is intended to do, namely show off my body while at the same time providing a sense of mystery and hidden treasures to be unveiled by my clients, but it is definitely not warm! We usually try to keep the apartment at a temperature suitable for energetic sex, but until that fun gets under way, it's damn chilly for this get-up. Oh, the price I pay to keep our clients happy and willing to part with their money!
Yes, I'm a professional. I sell sex, and Sly is my agent. It's his job to find clients and mine to keep them happy. We work well together, despite our wildly different backgrounds. We've been partners for over a year now, and our relationship is pretty solidly based on mutual respect (plus, of course, a good, hefty, tax-free income).
I like the work, and I'm good at it. Sly is pretty careful about whom he sets me up with, and clearly wants to protect me, and not solely because I'm a good investment for him. Mind you, I haven't given up the security of my day job at the law firm, but my nights are usually a lot more fun than my days. And a lot more lucrative, too.
"Well," I said reluctantly, trying to be noncommittal, "Okay, yeah, I've enjoyed some jobs that involved role playing. But I'm not going to wear that damn Dallas cheerleader costume again, if that's what you have in mind. Those boots were really uncomfortable, and I looked silly in it."
"Bullshit. Babe, you looked spectacular in that get-up, and you gave that poor guy the time of his life. And anyway, that's not what we're talking about here, is it."
"Yeah, okay, I admit I did feel pretty good about that job. But what you're asking now is different and you know it."
"Why?" he asked, all innocence. For a big, hard, cynical guy raised on the streets, Sly can still somehow amazingly manage to pull that off.
"Because this job involves me playing a
dominatrix
! The client apparently wants a powerful woman to humiliate and dominate him with whips and stuff, for heaven's sake. Look, I'm not being judgmental, but that's just not me!
"No way, Sly. I
like
guys. I like being treated like a woman by them. I don't want to beat them up."
Seeing that he was making no progress with me, he tried a different tack. "C'mon, Princess. Didn't you ever want to change positions some time and be on top, running things?"
"Hell, Sly, we women have
always
run things. We just don't let you guys know it."
He snorted. "Horseshit. Anyway, whatever. Look, you don't gotta actually
hurt
the guy. It's all just pretend. And besides, you're only gonna be there to help. It's not like you're runnin' the show or anything. You're gonna be teamed up with a professional. She'll call the shots. And don't forget, the client's payin' for the whole thing. His choice. It's what he wants. Your job is to make him happy, no?
"Look, are you up for this or not? It's worth a lot."
I thought for a long minute. "I get to wear skintight black leather and high-heeled boots?"
"Sure. You'll look flat out gorgeous and sexy as hell."
"Well, okay, then. But I'm gonna need some coaching."
"No problem. In fact, the lady who's runnin' the show wants to meet you beforehand, anyway. What are you doin' tomorrow night?"
I was pretty distracted at work the next day. Like I said, I do have a day job too, you know. In that life I'm a copy editor at a law firm in the city. Hey, who says English majors can't find work!
Anyway, that night I showed up at the apartment address he'd written on the slip he had given me. The door was answered by a strikingly beautiful woman. I'm not sure what I'd been expecting, but not this slim-waisted, long-legged beauty, dressed casually in slacks and a halter that did nothing to hide her lovely breasts. I guess I'd figured she'd be a lot more hard-edged and butch than this sexy number. Tells you how much I know.
"You must be Vicki," she said in a lovely contralto. She very carefully looked me up and down. "I'm Mistress Alexandra. You can call me Alex. They told me you'd be gorgeous. They sure got that right! Come on in."
Alexandra turned out to be a veritable fount of information about a dark side of guys that I knew little about. I mean, I'm a professional and have had sex with a lot of different guys, but always I was the object of their desire, and my job was to build up their confidence and put them at ease so they could enjoy themselves with my body. But Alexandra was talking about a different kind of relationship. She surprised me by saying that many of the same guys I'd had sex with and enjoyed it would have just as much enjoyed it if I'd awoken their dark side. I'm still not sure I buy that, although maybe that's just my lingering naivete. My Connecticut Protestant mom never taught me about that stuff.
Anyway, Alexandra, or as she preferred, "Mistress Alexandra", gave me a tour of her 'studio', as she called it. She watched my reaction carefully as she taught me how to use a whip without really hurting anyone, and how best to stroke a guy's cock enough to torment him but not enough to let him cum until I permitted him to. She introduced me to an assortment of bondage instruments like padded handcuffs, ankle braces, penis rings, mouth stretchers, gags, strap-on dildos and the like. It was pretty scary stuff, but she had such a matter-of-fact attitude that I began to accept that to some guys these things could bring intense pleasure when wielded by a good dominatrix. I began to think I could really do this.
When we were done with the lessons, Alexandra fixed me a drink and we sat on the couch together.