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Breakfast was a long time ago, and in any case, I was too busy rehearsing what I was going to say to him to actually eat.
    “What did you want to discuss?” he prompts. Ah. We get to the topic at hand.
    “Everything,” I say. “I’ve only done a couple of shows at the House of Pain. Before that, I’d never been spanked. I’m totally new to all of this.” I’ve decided to just be honest.
    He nods. I notice he’s not entirely too comfortable either. His grip on his beer bottle is tight. I relax slightly. It’s good that he’s nervous; it makes him more human.
    “It’s a bit strange to me too,” he says, his eyes on me. He takes a sip of his beer. “Approaching you was a total impulse. But, like I said, it is hard trying to find a partner who is interested in the same kinks as you.”
    “What do you want from me?” I ask.
    “I’d like to tie you up, spank you and have sex with you.” He doesn’t mince his words.
    “Once?” I ask.
    “Well, let’s see how it goes,” he says. “You might hate it; I might hate it; the chemistry might just not be there.”
    “I’ve never done this before.” There. I’ve said it.
    “You’ve never had sex before?” He looks obviously surprised.
    “No, I’ve never had tied-up sex before. I don’t know how submissive I am.”
    The doorbell interrupts whatever Doug was going to say, setting Alia off again. Doug grabs Alia, opens the door. “Hang on,” he says to the pizza guy, trying to restrain Alia. “Come on, Alia, cut it out. Sara, can you grab the pizza?”
    I bite back my smile. He clearly adores Alia. I grab the pizza from the guy as Doug wrestles with Alia, finally shoving her out of the back door. He comes back and pays the pizza guy.
    “Pizza?” he asks me.
    “Yes please,” I say. Our conversation was interrupted at the most inopportune time. I want to know what he’s thinking.
    He takes the pizza from me, gestures for me to follow him. We go to the kitchen and I gasp. His kitchen is beautiful, light and airy; it is L-shaped, and opens out to the backyard. Alia is in the backyard, basking in the sunlight.
    He grabs plates, opens the box. We help ourselves to slices, the food momentarily pausing the conversation.
    “Did you like getting whipped at the House of Pain?” His words pull me back to our conversation.
    “Yes.”
    “Did you like being tied up?”
    “Yes,” I whisper again.
    “So, what concerns you?” There’s no impatience in his voice. He’s trying to understand.
    “I don’t like the idea of being obedient, submissive.”
    “Are you submissive in bed?” he asks bluntly.
    I flush. “Sometimes. But I’ve always had a choice; I don’t have to be submissive.” I’m explaining myself badly. I think I’m afraid I’ll lose my ability to choose. That my submission will not be a choice I make, but the expected behaviour from me.
    Doug listens as I try to explain this. Finally, he raises a hand and interrupts me.
    “As I see it,” he says, “you are trying to run before you can walk. These things, everything you are worried about – the nature of submission, the boundaries of the submission, they are complicated things that every couple negotiates over time.” He takes a sip of his beer, eyes me and continues. “Right now, I think we should be more concerned about the hard rules – things you have no interest in doing in bed, things you definitely want to do, that kind of thing.”
    He’s right. Besides, as he said, this can be a one-time thing.
    “No blood,” I say. “No permanent damage. No caging.”
    “Ok.” We quickly agree on the basics; set me up with a safeword. Red.
    “I really have only one rule, Sara,” Doug says. “One that applies to both of us, really. Open, honest communication. If something isn’t fun, say so. I’m pretty sure that we can find enough things that we will both enjoy.”
    “Ok,” I say, softly. I am once again a bundle of nerves. I can’t believe I’m actually going to do