Her eyes looked up and met his and they regarded each other silently. Her breath became shallow and she felt somehow held still by his gaze. She could...have sensed his power, his confidence, his dominance, even if he had not been holding the rope and eyeing her with desire, and something else she could not put her finger on. It was if his gaze was familiar somehow, as if they had met before, though she knew they had not. After a few moments, an exchange of silent acceptance passed between them.. I approach, and place the oils down on the floor. I fall to my knees, which pop yet again, the sound echoing against the walls. I roll up my shirt sleeves, and oil my hands liberally. I rub my palms together, and begin to rub my thumbs against the pads of Miss Cia’s feet. ‘What would you like to hear today, Miss Cia? Shakespere? Arabian Nights? Perhaps something more modern?’ She stares at the ceiling a moment, then smiles as she settles deeper into the cushions. She says, ‘Romeo and Juliet.. More

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