She Learns Her Place

Prologue

"I have a great idea," I told you on the phone. "There's this sort of club where I'm a member, and it turns out they're having a meeting next week. It's always a lot of fun, and since the meetings are open to anyone, it's the perfect opportunity for us to meet for the first time."

"That's great, Mark," you quickly agreed. "Just give me the details and I'll be there." You were so excited that you never stopped to think that I had never mentioned this "club" before, and you had no idea what the meeting was. But you didn't worry. Why should you, if I was going to be there?

Two evenings later, the big moment had arrived. The meeting was being held in a small ballroom in one of downtown's largest, fanciest hotels. I had told you that the dress would be "nice casual," so you arrived at the hotel wearing a dress you'd purchased for the occasion. It was basic black (the old reliable), not too short and not too snug, but it fit nicely and, as you were feeling adventurous at the store, it had a low cut front and back, to show off the toned body you had earned at the gym. Of course, underneath you were wearing a demi-cup and thong -- black, lacy and also purchased for this special occasion. Your stay-up hose and low heels completed the picture.

You took a deep breath as you walked up to the meeting room I had named for you. There was no sign outside, but this seemed to be the place. The rest of the rooms were empty on this weeknight, and there were about 20 people already inside. As you walked in, you wondered if you had to register or anything, but the man at the bar gave you a friendly smile as if to say that "walk-ins" were expected. His glance relaxed you, but you still felt nervous, given that we had waited so long and this meant so much . . .

For the next 20 minutes or so, you just mingled around as more people gradually arrived. All in all, it was difficult to describe the crowd. They seemed to range from about 25 to 35 years old, so you were at the younger end of the range, even though you saw a few people who seemed just over 20. There was an even mix of men and women, and of all races. Some looked like couples, a few in larger groups, and some seemed alone. They seemed to belong to no particular group, that is, not white-collar or sports fans or investors or travelers, and you wondered what the point of this "club" was. Some of the people seemed to see each other every day, some were catching up on long-past old times, and others seemed to be new arrivals. You thought you heard mention of branches of the club in other cities, and a few people seemed entirely fresh, like you.

The only thing they had in common is that everyone seemed relatively fit and happy, and they all seemed definitely happy to be there, as if this were really a special occasion.

As time passed, however, you began to feel as if something were a bit strange. Well, not strange, but certainly slightly off, not what you expected. You didn't see anyone even vaguely resembling me, so you started to wonder if you had the right time, the right room. You did make small talk with a few people, but you didn't feel comfortable doing so until you knew that you were in the right place.

But there was something else too, something in the way a few people acted. You got the feeling, every once in a while, that as you neared a group they would suddenly stop talking, as if they didn't want you to hear what they were discussing. You even thought you saw someone pointing you out to his friends, and smiling in your direction. But you had to attribute this to your nervousness. It was obviously a difficult situation.

Then it was really odd. You walked behind a man and a woman talking, and you could have sworn you heard the woman say "I hear she's really something, and doesn't suspect anything. We should have a lot of fun tonight." When she saw that you were there, she looked surprised, a little angry, and embarrassed. You quickly walked away as you felt her and her companion's eyes following you. If you weren't so confident in me, you would have really felt yourself getting the creeps.

A few minutes later, you were just about ready to go when there was a stir in the room. The doors were closed and the lights were dimmed to highlight a small stage against one wall. You saw that the stage was empty, aside from what looked like a few musical instruments covered with a cloth. "Maybe for another evening," you thought.

The group came to attention and turned to face the stage, with anticipation and a few giggles. You noticed that the bartender and the waitress who had been serving hors d'ouevres had left. Then, a young woman took the stage and addressed the crowd. The room was small enough that she didn't need a microphone, and everyone had moved to that side anyway. You found yourself in about the middle of the group, and you couldn't help but feel caught up in the general anticipation and good feeling. "What kind of show is this?" you wondered.

But in a few minutes, you found yourself becoming disappointed, and really wishing that I would arrive, right now, and take you out of this situation. The woman was definitely annoying you. She was drop-dead gorgeous with a perfect body, long and lean, which was not at all hidden by the very short skirt, trim jacket and half-open blouse she wore. But, she had the attitude of someone who knew how attractive she was, making cute comments and pandering to the audience. Moreover, she also acted like she were so privileged to be up there, like she was in on some special joke.

Oddly enough, though, most of the audience seemed to like her, and they laughed heartily at her silly jokes. They seemed to empathize with her, as if they longed to be her, with her ability to be up there on the stage. They weren't turned off by her over confidence.

You couldn't see why, though, as most of what she was talking about seemed to be some sort of club business -- announcements about other members and upcoming events -- that was so vaguely described you couldn't make sense of it. But as you were surrounded by the others and the room was so small, you didn't really want to just walk out. (Though you definitely felt that no one would mind at all if you did -- at least that assured you.)

Finally, it seemed like the evening would get underway. "Let's get started, shall we?" she said smoothly. "Who'd like to go first? Any volunteers."

She looked out across the eager faces. Everyone seemed ready to go, but they didn't want to be first. Finally, she settled on a young Asian girl about your age. "How 'bout you? Don't be shy, come on up."

As she scampered up to the stage, you wondered if she'd start out, "My name's Julie, and I'm a ...." This little joke brought a grin to your face.

But it was nothing so dramatic. The woman got on stage, gave her name as Linda, and proceeded to banter with the hostess. Just little jokes, funny things she'd done over the past few weeks. The hostess gently teased her, prodding her with little innuendoes, but you couldn't see the point. The rest of the audience seemed to enjoy it, they were getting warmed up.

Next was Steve, who sang a silly little version of The Twist. Many of the women in the audience seemed to think he was cute. "Maybe they know who he is," you thought to yourself.

Then Claire came up, and told a story about how her cat had run up a tree and she had to call the fire department. Silly. Then Bill came up, and the hostess had a field day with him. He started to tell, very shyly, a story about how a woman at his office was always flirting with him. The hostess really pressed him to tell more, didn't believe he hadn't done anything, almost seemed to be teasing him. You almost felt sorry for him -- he looked really embarrassed. But he was smiling when he left the stage.

This went on for about 15 minutes, and you could only wonder "why?" The people had no connection to each other, I wasn't there, it just didn't make sense. Again, you were about to turn and go when the hostess said, "Well, that finishes our opening, why don't we get the show on the road!" She said that last phrase with a really silly over-emphasis, but the audience seemed so excited by it that they gave a little cheer and pressed further to the stage. You just couldn't leave now.

"Well, as you know, we'll need a volunteer." This line got a bit of a laugh from a few members of the audience, and you noticed that she did say it rather sarcastically -- almost as if she meant the opposite.

"Let's see, who's out there," she said, putting her hand above her eyes and pretending to scan the audience. The anticipation was thick in the air -- everyone wanted to see who it would be.

"You there, you look ready."

You froze. She was looking at you, wasn't she? Almost reflexively, you quickly glanced behind you, making her and most of the audience laugh. You shuffled from side to side, at first you didn't know what to say.

"Yes, you," she said, "come on up here!" She sounded almost like a game show host, but there was this very odd quality. You weren't sure she was kidding.

"Oh, that's ok," you said meekly.

The room was quiet.

"I mean, not me. Someone else can go."

No reaction. You looked around the room to see if there were any other suitable candidates, but everyone was looking at you.

"I just got here. Actually I'm just looking for someone."

A pause. Silence.

"You don't seem to understand, Jennifer," the hostess said, "I'm not asking you to volunteer."

Her words caught you off guard. You were sure you hadn't given your name to anyone. Reflexively, you took a step back and looked at the door. No one was blocking your way.

"Now you be a good little girl and come on up on this stage," she said.

Those words caught your attention. Her tone had changed too, and you recognized it. You knew it was a command, a command you were too curious to refuse, a command you wanted to obey.

As you turned and walked to the stage, you felt your heart beating right out of your chest. Everyone was looking at you and smiling. At first you thought that maybe this was a surprise party, but you knew that was a stupid idea. You were grasping at straws, something to make you avoid thinking that you knew what was going to happen, that you had known all along.

And that's why you had stayed.

At the foot of the stage, you paused. You didn't know if you could go through with it.

"Get on up here, Jennifer, and make it quick." A command, again.

You lowered your head, took a deep breath, and mounted the stage. Walking slowly to the center, trying desperately to keep your eyes level and your back straight, as you'd been taught.

When you arrived and turned to face the audience. The hostess seemed to relax and you felt all the pairs of eyes examining you. Waiting to see what you would do for them.

She reached over to brush your hair back, and in that one gesture seemed to assert something over you, as if you were on display, almost. You didn't flinch.

She asked you a few quick, innocuous questions. Where abouts you lived, where you went to school. You answered smoothly as you both relaxed and tensed yourself at the same time. Glad that it started ok, knowing that something more was on its way.

At this point, the hostess turned from you and walked slowly away, supreme in her confidence that you would stay put and answer her questions. "Now let's see if you're everything we've been promised."

"That's odd," you thought in a millisecond.

"On your knees, Jennifer." She said calmly, as if she were telling the time, still facing out to the audience. Just looking at the side of her face you could see that she had a smug expression on her face, as if you would never do this and she was sharing some stupid joke with the audience.

"What's the matter, Jennifer," she said sarcastically, turning to face you. "Aren't you as obedient as we've been told?"

That last sentence drilled right into your mind and raced so quickly your head spun. Yes, your head spun -- as you felt your knees bending and you lowered yourself to the floor.

You saw her face light up in a huge smile. As if she couldn't believe her good fortune. "Amazing," she said, as the audience began to applaud, even cheer.

You only kept your level expression, knowing that you had proved it to them, and thereby proved it to yourself. It became very hard to keep your composure though, as you heard her say, "I think it's about time we bring him out, don't you folks?"

You had to fight very hard to keep your head from jerking around when you heard someone approach the stage from the back. You knew I would have been very displeased if you had done so, although I knew how eager you were to have your first look at me. In the flesh, as it were.

I quickly granted your desire. I walked around to face you, and you saw I was wearing brown leather pants, rather snug but stylish, with low boots, a green silk shirt and a soft-shouldered linen jacket. Very relaxed, very authoritative. A man you really wouldn't want to argue with.

Then, I bent over slightly so that you could get a good look at me. Right into my eyes. In that one glance, you knew that you had done well and all was just fine again. You were thrilled, but you knew that the way to show it was to remain composed. My look assured you that you understood the situation correctly.

"Isn't she wonderful," I said to the group, and they laughed as they saw how proud I was. I put my hand gently around your neck and gave you a little caress, almost as if you were a pet -- no, not "as if," and not a "pet." I stroked you like that because you are my Slave.

"She's really going to be wonderfully entertaining!" I said, and your heart raced, wondering what you would have to do -- that is, have the chance to do. "So let's get started right away," I said, as you heard the cloth being removed and some movement behind you.

"Music??" you thought, incredulously.

"Go ahead and take your position, Jennifer," I said as I nudged you to turn around.

Your heart jumped when you saw what was there -- a large dentist's chair, a few scientific instruments, and a middle-aged man in a white coat. A very large screen TV was evident right behind the chair.

"Ever seen 'The Marathon Man'?" I said, and the audience laughed.

You had to admit, you were reluctant. We had just met. "I mean, come on," you thought.

I went and stood next to the chair. "Don't make me force you, Jennifer. You know I don't have to." My smile had disappeared.

"It's not going to hurt. Don't be silly. Get your cute little buns over here so we can begin."

You knew that, after all this, you just had to do it. Besides, you were so curious.

You moved over and settled in the chair. The man in the white coat came and adjusted a sort of headpiece over your temples. It was attached by wires to the equipment, which he started to fiddle with as you heard the faint buzz of the TV screen come on behind you. All of the audience looked up eagerly. I did too, and I had to smile when I saw my face on the screen.

"This equipment, of course, allows us to share your fantasies, Jennifer. It also allows me to control ... well, let's say guide, what you fantasize about."

You felt your heart beating harder. You probably would have enjoyed the whirl of colors that appeared on the screen.

"This is your opportunity, Jennifer. This is a voyage we'll take together ..."

-----

This requires that we go back a few years, to your last semester of college, when you had just turned 21. It's April, and spring is in the air. Most of your requirements have been completed, so you're just finishing out your time, as it were. You're living, alone, in a small studio apartment near campus.

So, you are independent, but in a way, you are also a bit lost. You have no particular plans for after graduation, and no obligations either. Looking down the road, you can't really say where you are heading.

One day, your friend Susan calls. She says that she has heard from a friend of hers (a friend of a friend, really), about 26 years old, who is coming to town for a job interview, and he needs a place to stay for a few days. For whatever reason, Susan can't do it, "would you mind if he stays with you?" she asks.

"Sure, it's no problem," you answer. "But won't it be a bit strange, this guy staying in my apartment. I mean, I only have one bathroom."

"Oh, don't worry," Susan says. "I know that he's a perfect gentleman. He's really nice; you'll have a great time." As she said that, Susan had to wonder in the back of her mind what you were worried about. "A man is probably what she really needs," Susan thought.

"Ok, great. I'll be here," you said.

A few days later, a Wednesday evening, I knocked at your door. The plan was that I would run a few errands on Thursday, my interview is on Friday, and I would leave Saturday morning.

-----

The first moments after I came into your apartment were bound to be a bit awkward, as we didn't know each other at all. I put my things down next to the couch where I would be sleeping (there was also a small bedroom, with the bathroom attached), and we just started to chat. A first small talk, but there's nothing wrong with that -- what you were studying, the job I was looking for -- the details don't matter. Then, we started to talk about music, movies, TV, just sharing our opinions.

As I was a bit older (a bit! :) and you were still a student, you were maybe a bit intimidated, wondering if I would think that you were just a silly kid. But those feelings soon passed. The thing you noticed about me was that I was absolutely straight forward. I offered my ideas directly to you without worrying that you would criticize them, and I would listen to you directly -- what you had to say. There was no artificiality, no reason to put on airs.

About halfway through the conversation, you found yourself just looking at me. At my eyes. Forcing yourself to be objective, you would have said that I looked nondescript. Not particularly handsome, with a fit body but not a stunning physique. But looking at my friendly eyes, hearing me speak and watching me listen to you, you had the feeling that you saw something else, something you couldn't quite put your finger on, but it was a feeling you wanted to feel more.

At that moment, you got just a little bit scared, because you wondered what you would be willing to do just to feel that feeling, to feel it more, to feel it stronger. But you shook that off when it was time to ... make dinner!

You apologized to me that your kitchen was rather small, but I said that was no problem. "After all, the size doesn't matter, it's what you do with the equipment."

After that comment, I had to dodge a playful swipe from your spatula and, if you had been honest with yourself, you would have realized that something physical had started between us.

A physical feeling which only increased as we moved around the small kitchen. I wasn't an especially good cook, but you liked watching as my body moved around the kitchen, with a sort of confidence and ease that was not diminished by my general klutziness. And when you turned your back to me, you wondered if I noticed the same thing about you, if I liked what I saw. Of course, I did.

Needless to say, in the course of preparing the meal, we had numerous opportunities to brush against each other, ("excuse me while I get the pepper" ... "oops, I dropped a tomato") but I was always the perfect gentleman -- which only drove you crazier. As you stirred the pasta sauce, you toyed with the idea of offering a bit to me to taste, maybe even on your finger, but you weren't quite ready for that. "I'm being silly," you thought to yourself, "maybe it's the wine going to my head."

We finished half a bottle before we sat down to dinner.