A man came into view. Longish hair. Glasses. Slight and pale, like he'd been inside too long. He was in his forties, maybe twenty years older than me...."Am I trespassing?" I asked softly. "No," he said. "I invited you here." He stepped a little closer to me. He wasn't handsome in the traditional way; he wasn't tall or muscular or particularly well-dressed. But there was a nerdiness that I liked. And there was an intensity in the way he looked at me that left a tingle running over my skin. It was. Don’t call me ‘Tabbi’. Call me Mistress, or Mistress Tabbi. Do you understand that?’ ‘Yes, Mistress,’ Crystal said, her head hanging. ‘Now, you’re not going to take me home,’ Tabbi said, as they stepped outside. ‘I fucking hate that place. Also, I need to pick up a few things.’ Crystal got in on the driver’s side of a sporty red convertible, and Tabbi took the passenger’s side. They stopped at a department store, where their appearance turned a lot of heads, male and female alike. That was. More

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