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“There’s a blindfold on the table next to the bed. Go and get it and return to the end of the bed.”
I step back from the seat and locate the blindfold. It’s set next to a huge lamp on a wide teak bedside table. My strides are slow as I obey the instruction.
The blindfold is made of heavy black silk. Although there’s a bow design attached to one string, the two sides end with a metallic clasp design that would prevent accidental loosening. I run my fingers over the soft material, which is already warming in my hand.
With a firm hold on it, I return to the scroll seat.
“Sit down, Lucky.”
I take the seat, rest the blindfold on my lap. The lights in the room dim a fraction, but the one directly above me brightens, throwing me into soft spotlight.
One camera slowly descends from the ceiling and stops a foot above my head. The blinking red light tells me it’s recording my every blink. Every breath. I struggle to contain my nerves and stare straight ahead.
I remain like that for a good five minutes, before I see a shadow frame the closed frosted bedroom doors.
He’s tall, broad shouldered, well-muscled. That’s all I can tell from the hazy silhouette. My pulse takes a turn from jumpy to frenzied.
“Put the blindfold on. Secure it tightly. Then rest your hands beside you, palms down.”
The thought that he’s going to deny me sight further unsettles me enough to make me hesitate. I glance down at the blindfold, then back at his shadow.
“Do as you’re told.” A harder command that demands my obedience. It’s also dangerous enough to trigger a state of excitement. But the warmth of the spotlight reminds me that I’m on a stage. That the cameras are picking up any signs of disobedience.
I only win this game if I play my part right. As much as I want to see the man who has been so expert at taking control of my emotions, I haven’t come all this way to fail now.
I lift and place the blindfold over my eyes.
Immediately, my remaining senses scream with awareness. His scent is sharper, the soft air filtering into the room rushes louder. The black silk comes alive, each expensive thread leaping beneath my fingertips. My only deprived sense is a taste of what’s to come. In anticipation, saliva floods my mouth.
But with all these sensations come a heavy dose of trepidation.
This is happening.
In front of cameras.
Apprehension eats away at the excitement. The trembling starts at my feet, works its way up to my knees. Seconds later, my whole body is engulfed.
And that’s when I hear the soft parting of the doors.
He’s here. In living flesh. Right in front of me.
My throat moves in a nervous swallow almost of its own accord, and my head jerks as I try to home in on him. But nerves have crossed to full-blown alarm, and he’s uncontainable. He’s all around and inside me. My rapid breathing is a whisper away from hyperventilation. Between my hands and the silk, a light coating of sweat forms.
The rush of blood through my veins grows into a roar, and the belief that I’m about to pass out becomes real.
“You’re trembling.” He’s right above me, large and powerful and domineering.
“Yes.” My response is a shaky mess, the blackness behind the blindfold seeming to thicken, even though rationally that is impossible.
“Are you afraid?”
I swallow hard. “A little,” I lie.
“Of what?”
“Of the…unknown.”
“Do you think I’ll hurt you?”