I loiter on her block, phone in hand, one eye on the screen and one on the passers-by, hoping for something I’ve agreed not to pursue.

V and I fuck in the big room, surrounded by sharks. I fall down on my job of protecting her.

I line you all up against a hotel wall and let my imagination do what it does best.

Forgot my wallet, made her pay for everything, collared her at the bar, and lost count of her orgasms at Le Trapeze. Not very dom-ly — except for the parts that were.

Our relationship had become three-dimensional, and fucking was off the table. I was damned if I was going to let that stop me.

The getting feels better than the having — and that realization explains more about me than I’m entirely comfortable with.

I’m drawn to strong women who grant me submission, not to women whose submission I can take from them.

V called me out as a weak spanker. I took it personally.

A short expression of gratitude for a particular dress, and a polite request.