Her instructions were explicit and very clear. No deviation or excuse would be tolerated. The door would open precisely at midnight, then closed again at 12:01am. If she was not presenting herself within that time-frame, entrance would not be allowed. Furthermore, the Dominant/submissive relationship they had developed would be terminated at the same time. There would be no pleas, no appeals, and
no leniency
.
The slushy mix of snow and rain fell from the sky in buckets. It had completely snarled Manhattan traffic, almost to the point of being a full-on rush hour gridlock, although it was nearly to midnight. As a result, the taxi was late picking her up, then late maneuvering across town. The old checker cab came to a sliding stop in front of the up-scale condo building. Sara slipped the fare and tip through the slot in the plexiglas barrier and didn't wait for the driver to count it. By the time he realized that it was correct, he could see the back of her trench coat disappear from his view. Sara darted across the lobby and skidded to a stop in an old set of snow boots. She panted as she looked up over the elevator doors at the art-deco clock built into the wall. Its old iron hands read 11:55pm. Beyond the doors, she could hear the motor running and cables slapping against themselves. The elevator car was only two floors above the lobby, but descending.
The doors opened and a woman with a shopping cart caddie was trying to push the large, stiff wheels over the lip of the open door. Sara, reached down, interlaced her fingers into the wire mesh, and pulled the caddie out, dragging the old woman in tow. The jovial old woman giggled and smiled, then thanked Sara as she squeezed past her into the small elevator car. Sara repeatedly pressed the sixth floor button, hammering on it in desperation for the doors to close. The doors slowly labored to a close as Sara painted a false smile on her face, purely for the old woman's benefit. With the doors closed, the winch above the top floor started winding up the cable, hoisting the car up the shaft with a less than gentle lurch. In crowded New York City, this was the first private moment she had since leaving her apartment. The elevator car was no bigger than one of her closets, but it was perfect for her quick-change needs. She flung the trench coat off her shoulders to reveal a ratty old sweatshirt and matching baggy sweatpants.
Looking up at the old mechanical dial, the elevator car had just past the third floor and was slowly climbed upward toward the forth. She pulled the sweatshirt over her head, tussled loose what remaining snow had clung to her black hair, then hurled the shirt to the shabby carpeted floor. She was bare to the waist, wearing only a leather collar. The collar had been obscured by the bulky sweatshirt, which proved to be handy camouflage for the overly inquisitive cabbie. Sara pulled the oversized sweatpants off over her boots,, then discarded the them to the pile building on the elevator floor. The haphazard bundle was reminiscent of the stacks of clothing left behind in her apartment. But it didn't matter - in less than five minutes she would never need them, or her shabby little apartment ever again. From this point on, all of her needs would be supplied - forever...
if
