The air, though not quite cold, hung about her in a blue haze, pregnant with something akin to expectation. Predatory, yet familiar. She stopped in the dusky heaviness and without turning her head, glanced left and right. Nothing. There were no chills up her spine, no footsteps on some future grave, just the weight of.... something imminently impacting.
The street, recovering from a late afternoon rain, almost twinkled in the twilight from hundreds of tiny puddles catching the streetlamps' early glow. Up ahead a small coupe turned the corner, it's yellow-white headlights washing over her as it u-turned impatiently and sped away, causing her dark brown eyes to squint momentarily and go blind.
She raised her arm up over her forehead and taking a deep breath, plodded on. If she was to get any work done at home tonight, she'd better get to it. Her job in the Historical Research Department of the huge three-story library afforded her variable hours, which she took gleeful advantage of without any guilt. The less she had to deal with the daily patrons, the better. Her preference for human company was of an edgier variety than those embracing daylight hours and setting life clocks based on the sunlight. Tonight, when her work was done, she could perhaps unlock her daily chains ... and slip into the world of physical dominance ... and someone's delicious submission.
The quiet, calm demeanor of this highly competent research assistant camouflaged a delicious secret life in her soul. One of command. One of control. One of compliance. What she couldn't reign over in the thousands of words of already-written history, she could rule in cool Royalty in the dim light of a nearby Dungeon. With the flick of a crop, the point of a heel, she would lead the needy submissives to their sensual fates.
As her vision cleared from the flashing headlights, she shifted the bundle of books in her arms and picked up the pace. Just as she cleared her throat she heard the remnants of what appeared to be a voice, nearby.
She stopped. Again the pressure in the air shifted. She tilted her head to the side. Imagination? Distant memories?
"Yeah Nicci, you heard me"
She stared off to the left, down the nearby alley, knowing damn full well whom she would see and suddenly understood the fullness in the air.
A back light from the naked bulb of a not too distant service entrance to a restaurant silhouetted the figure leaning up against the wall. A sultry train of cigarette smoke lingered around the hazy outline of a broad shouldered male in a long heavy coat and a smooth, perfectly shaped shaven head.
Nicolette's entire body mass shifted. Gritting her teeth, she cursed her own betraying internal impulses as her crotch reactively oozed with moisture. Her breasts ached at her nipples and her shoulders tightened. She shut her eyes in disgust as her thighs trembled beneath her long knit skirt.
Paulo had that effect.
He didn't walk through the air, it parted for him. It enveloped him, making way for his tight muscular bulk when he chose to invade it, just to compensate for the shift in energy passing through its boundaries. She hated him for that power, so ill-used but so starkly magnetic.
In a world of control, Paulo was a Master without title or pose. Nicci knew that the mantles of Dominance, the instruments of play that she wielded with such effortless authority in the dungeon games were a total sham compared to the natural brilliance of Paulo's mesmerizing, unspoken power.
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