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feet for the rest of the gig, his head rubbing against me affectionately. As I stroked his head in between taking photographs of the band onstage, a feeling of inner calm washed over me. Even though I was still aroused, startled, and confused by my reaction, it was like a feeling of honesty and true realization.
    This has empowered me
.
    The whole experience had been like sex itself, with its arousal, its peak, its transcendence. I’d had no clue I would enjoy dominating a man, whipping him publicly, but I had. And, judging from the adoration at my feet, it was a two-way street.
    As the gig ended, the lights went up and everyone was suddenly far too real for me. I didn’t want the staring eyes anymore. I needed a drink. I needed space to think through what had happened to me. The band members were with Daniel; he was on his feet, chatting. Maybe if he hadn’t been with me, he would have gone to someone else. Whatever his reason for choosing me to approach, it had altered my life. Grabbing my stuff, I headed to the bar downstairs, where I ordered a double shot and downed it quickly. My legs were like jelly as I put down the glass and made ready to leave. Daniel was on his way down the stairs, and the mask was gone.
    I wanted to go home and think about it, savor the strange sense of euphoria that had overcome me back there. But if I left now, would I ever see him again? Unsure how far I wanted to go along this path, I headed for the door and out into the street. It had rained and the street was different from when I had gone inside. So was I. I ran up the hill, passing underneath the railway arches toward the station. When I heard his footsteps echoing under the arches behind me, I knew it was him. I stopped and turned back to look at him.
    He held up his hands in a sign of peace. “I wasn’t going to come after you, but something made me.”
    I nodded. I wasn’t afraid of him; I realized it was me that I was afraid of. The unknown me who had risen up so quickly, so unexpectedly. My inner vixen, as I would later identify her.
    “You were so good,” he whispered and reached to stroke my arm affectionately.
    “Why did you come over to me?”
    “I could tell you wanted to play. You did, didn’t you?”
    He was right, but he had known and I hadn’t. That was unnerving. He was still stroking my arms. I noticed that we felt like equals now. In fact, his seductive movement against my skin felt as if he was taking charge of me. Uncertainty reigned. “I have to go.”
    “Don’t go. Don’t deny it.” He smiled hopefully, but I saw a flicker of regret in his eyes. He thought I was leaving.
    “I’ve never done this before,” I confessed, needing him to know that.
    He stared at me, and then after a moment he stepped closer, that mischievous smile of his surfacing. With his hands around my upper arms I felt strangely secure, and yet curious and aching for more. A complete stranger had this effect on me? It was because he recognized his opposite in me. The thought crossed my mind, and I didn’t reject it.
    “Did you want to do it again? Did you want to do more? Somewhere private, perhaps?”
    Images flashed through my mind; images brought on by that suggestion, images of fantasies I hadn’t ever recognized that I had, but were suddenly growing fast and multiplying in my mind, assailing me with their erotic potential, their absolute promise of pleasure.
    “Maybe,” I murmured.
    We stood there in the gloom of the damp tunnel, with the sound of cars driving down the rainy streets surrounding us. There was no need to say more. When his head dipped and his lips brushed over mine, my inner vixen whispered to me:
Don’t turn away
.
    I didn’t.
    I couldn’t.
    And so here we are, months later, and I am so glad I didn’t turn away that night. Reaching down, I unbind him before I grab the whip. The mark of my heel on his back is like the center of a bull’s-eye. I use it to focus me, because whipping him gives me such a rush