Details, details

Stephen settled in across the miniature table from me, a cup of something slightly frothy in his hand and the ever present smirk on his lips. "You're so sure I couldn't understand being dominant, eh? Now why is that?" I glanced around the nearly deserted shop, just us, a stressed out businessman in the opposite corner, nose plugged into the screen of his laptop, and the bored shop attendant. Okay, so no real possibility of being overheard presented itself. I guess we would cut to the chase.

"Maybe I'm wrong, " I murmured, glancing up from my cup to catch his eyes," but you seem like a definate 'vanilla sex' type guy, Stephen." There, it was said. he gave me a brief, unreadable look and then the smirk reappeared.

"Sometimes, kiddo," he told me, "but I tend to be a chameleon in that area. I'll adapt to the situation." Now I wore the unreadable expression. Was this a good bluff? Bravado? Experience? I wondered just how he proposed to prove his statement, and told him so, trying to hold back the series of scenes that flowed through my imagination, each more laughable than the next...until his velvety baritone wrapped around me when he leaned closer.

"Well, since you are a Domme, you must know both ends of the scene, right?" I nodded. "Put yourself in my hands a a submissive for a decided upon period of time."