An Ordinary morning Part Three
20:31 P.M. 23rd January 2009
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David was sweating and what he was wearing wasn't at all helpful.
He was late and now expectant.
It wasn't his fault he was late, the traffic had been bad: and, the meeting had dragged on intermittently.
All awhile, he'd been thinking of her, who he had grown to adore.
And, no matter how many presents, or money he showered her with, it would never be enough. Grant you, he had phoned when he'd been stuck in traffic and that was well over an hour ago.
David Stapleton had phoned, to say he would be late. He had even left a message with Rachel, his Mistress's secretary cum PA; `..with emphasis on the word cum.'
He envied Rachel.
He had left his suit jacket and tie in the car, prior to entering the club; and paying the cover charge at the door, like everyone else.
But, he was hardly dressed like everyone else.
Well, not entirely...
Yet unlike ninety eight per cent of the clubs patrons, he certainly looked like what he was, in his freshly ironed small black trousers; crisp white shirt, the cuffs firmly tucked back; and, designer shoes, made in Italy.
David Stapleton was a top lawyer, specializing in case law.
He watched the fellow at the door, the very big fellow at the door, stamp his hand with the clubs logo – a kneeling submissive in silhouette.
Although he'd not been here before, he'd driven Mistress here many times, as chauffer. It was a job he relished, just to serve her, his Mistress.
Normally so in charge, Mistress would have had arranged to meet him here, to shake him up, to take him out of his comfort zone.
Well,' he thought, it worked.' He was so far out of his comfort zone, he may have been in another dimension.
He was here to see his Mistress, having been told she'd wait awhile for him in her usual booth.
`Where was that?' he panicked, hastily scanning the crowd becoming more anxious by the second.
Dave made his way through the crowds, surprised at the many ways that people acted or dressed.
`Nervous.' Of course he was nervous.
Yet David Stapleton was also aroused.
He was late and knew that would earn him punishment.
`That punishment could be anything,' he thought, with sweaty hands and a heart beating fast than it had just seconds earlier.
Then he saw her face through the crowd on the dance-floor and he thought his knees would go beneath him.
She was there, amongst a small group of people, sitting proud, her head held high, her long black hair and high cheekbones part of her proud heritage.
Native Cherokee. His mouth was dry as he approached the table, to speak to her, his Mistress.
A thousand images flittered through Stapleton's head within the first few paces it took to where Mistress Celine sat, with two friends.
A half dozen or so of the women's courtiers sat nearby, all with an eye on this strong woman, he so adored.
All the time, thoughts of probable punishment were uppermost in his mind, as he neared their table.
He thought of how he might be told to undress, before these friends of hers, to show them what he what he wore beneath his suit, to please her.
Mentally he sighed, at the thoughts of such humiliation, at the hands of Mistress Celine.
Her hands.
Those small and quick hands, how they had felt, as he had lain across her lap, his trousers by his ankles, his buttocks framed by the straps of the black suspenders he wore, to hold up the sheer stockings, she liked on him.
"May I sit down Mistress Celine?" he asked in a timorous voice.
Not speaking a word she motioned for him to sit and Davis sank gratefully into the chair.
Oh-boy,' he thought, as she tapped one red fingernail against the tabletop waiting for him to speak: this promises to be anything, but an ordinary evening.'