I pushed open the door and walked in like I always do, chin up, shoulders back, my step sure and steady. There was no way I would ever give the slightest notion that I was anything but confident. Don't get me wrong; I was nervous but not for the reasons you may think.
I paused just inside the door and scanned the interior of the coffee shop. My eyes quickly jumped from face to face, trying to find the one I am suppose to meet. I knew who I was looking for; I had spent the last six weeks getting to know him through pictures and emails. Who would have thought that when he first contacted me on FetLife that I would ever end up agreeing to meet him but he had passed all of my tests and trials. He had done everything I ask as instructed; eager and never with a word of compliant or impatience. Now it was time to see if there was the right chemistry between us face to face.
This is what I was nervous about. I liked this one and there was no doubt that he would like me but just because we clicked in theory and through electronic means of communication did not mean that same connection would be there when I could physically see, hear and touch him. How many in the last two years had I gotten this far with only to find out within five minutes of meeting face to face that the relationship would never progress.
It was never their fault; none of these previous potential boys ever misrepresented themselves or did not try their best. The issue was always me; I am picky and have learned long ago if that spark is not there from the beginning, it never will be and it was not fair for these boys not to have the best of me.
My eyes swept the room back and forth before catching sight of him sitting in the corner on the opposite side of the shop. We waved at each other and then I made my way to him, weaving in and out of people and furniture like an obstacle course. He stood when I got close and flashed me a smile that I have to admit I wanted to see again. He took my hand in his. It felt warm and strong; just the right amount of softness and roughness that I expect a man's hand to feel. Just the right amount of strength in his grip and I wondered what those fingers would feel like as they caressed my skin in other places.
I got the smile again as he looked into my eyes before he leaned over as previously instructed and kissed my hand. I felt my eyes go wide, my mouth gap a little and I am pretty sure a small gasp escaped my lips. The spot where his lips had touched my skin felt like it was on fire and it slowly began to spread like brandy, making my heart beat faster and my breathing quicken. But he did not stop with just the one kiss. His lips and nose roamed over my hand to my wrist, combination smelling my skin and kissing it.
I became lost in the moment, completely forgetting where we were. My mind flashed back and forth; picturing what those lips would look like curled back in agony or maybe ecstasy. I wanted to know first hand how red his skin can get from spanking or flogging instead of just guessing what the colour was from pictures. I wanted to know how he would react to a whole host of ideas that were swimming in my head. I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts flooding my senses and concentrate on the situation at hand.
I opened my eyes and purred softly, "Good Pet." His eyes raised to mine and nodded. He straightened back up. "Yes Mistress." He drawled softly and moved to pull the chair out for me and inquired what I wanted to drink. I told what I wanted and watched him move to order it, impressed that he was clearly comfortable with himself, with me and more over, comfortable with being in public serving me. As I sat watching him, my mind focused on his voice. I wondered what it would sound like screaming or begging. I liked how he said Mistress.
My breath caught for a moment. The spark that I was afraid wouldn't be there was burning brightly. I sat back in my chair and smiled to myself. Unless he did or said something radically stupid over the coarse of the evening, he would be Mine.
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