“Sure,” I start summarising the pros and cons of being an entrepreneur as my eyes drift down to my phone, making sure I’m hitting the right keys as I type Hi Amelia in the app. Not particularly creative, but I just want to make sure I don’t lose her profile when I close my phone to focus on the rest of the video call. No, I can’t lose her. Surely it must be fate to find her on this app. What is she doing on a BDSM app? I mean, sex with Amelia was... amazing, but I don’t think she was particularly adventurous. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued, but what I really want to know is if she still hates me. Yes, that’s the only reason I’m reaching out. The only reason.

Now, how am I going to play this? I can’t really come out and say, “Surprise, it’s me!” She’ll block me immediately. No, I need to at least get her to meet up with me. I finally want a chance to explain myself. And to say sorry.

“Can we all give Ben a big round of virtual applause?” the host of the workshop, whose name I have completely forgotten, asks the attendees. Everyone who is showing on my screen raises their hands and gives me some weird finger wiggling gesture. I bite my lip to avoid showing how ridiculous I find it.

“Thank you for having me and good luck to you all.” I sign off and shoot a message to Omar, my driver. Having a company driver is one of the few luxuries Coop and I allow ourselves. I drive my own car on the weekends. But Coop and I both hate public transport, and finding anywhere to park when heading to meetings is usually a nightmare. So it made sense for us to have company drivers. We've got two actually; one handling the morning shift and the other tackling the evening slot. Roger, who picks me up in the morning, has a busier schedule during the day with staff coming and going from meetings. In contrast, Omar works from three until whenever I finish, leaving him with little to do after five once most staff have left for the day. But he's cool with it, always assuring me that he puts the downtime to good use by hitting the books. It never fails to amuse me when he talks about his studies; after all, he's in his late thirties, not much younger than me. Omar spent his twenties globetrotting and then another decade settling down and reintegrating to society. It was then that he decided he wanted to work on his career and get a degree. I admire him really. I'm not sure if I'd have the energy to start all over again.

With my phone in one hand and my jacket in the other I step into the lift and lean against the back wall. I loosen my tie and immediately feel more relaxed. Ties are not my cup of tea. If I could, I'd roll into the office in jeans, but I need to wear suits for meetings, and there aren’t any days when I don’t have meetings lined up.

The dreaded suit also causes me issues when dating sometimes. Thanks to certain films and books, everyone anticipates a dom in a suit. On more than one occasion a woman, new to the scene has turned into a proper brat when I’ve turned up for our date in jeans and a T-shirt, not believing that I’m a dom, just because I wasn’t wearing what they were expecting.

That thought brings me back to the app. Amelia. I’m itching to see if she’s replied. Wait until you’re in the car. I’m not sure if I’m edging myself here or if I’m just too scared to find out she’s ignored my message, or even worse, blocked me. I have knots in my stomach again. I can’t remember the last time I was so nervous.

"Hey, Omar," I call out as I settle into the backseat. I'm not too keen on being in the back; it gives off this vibe like I'm somehow lording it over Omar. But he's got his study materials and snacks spread out on the passenger seat, and asking him to shift it all after keeping him waiting until ten in the evening doesn't sit right with me either.

“Good evening, Sir.” I’ve given up asking him to call me Ben. Apparently it’s against company policy. Both drivers are not directly employed by us because it’s just easier to get them via a chauffeuring service as if one of them needs a day off they can send an alternative. But the downside is that they are not in our care, although Coop and I both insist that they get paid fairly.

“Can you take me straight home please?” I ask and swipe the screen of my phone nervously.

“No problem,” he replies and puts the car in gear. As we roll out into the dark of the city, I finally tap the app.

Amelia

Hi Ben

She’s replied! I take a deep breath. What now? I don’t want to use the usual lines I throw to any other woman. She’s not like them. She is Amelia.

My eyes fly over her profile.

Hm, think, Ben, think. Pick-up lines usually come easy to me. But then this situation is entirely different. I’m not trying to pick her up.

Me

So, what brings a cat lady to the world of BDSM? Curiosity killed the cat…

Ok, great. If she doesn't know the proverb this will sound like a threat.

Amelia

… But satisfaction brought it back.

Good girl. Of course she knows it.

Me

Haha. So, what brings you here as a newbie?

Amelia

"Friends" signed me up for it. I was very cross.

Me

And yet you didn't delete the account.

She has always been an inquisitive soul, but the risk that she may end up with the wrong guy on here doesn't sit well with me. Especially as she’s new to the community. There’s a fire in my stomach again but it's not pleasant this time.

My gaze drifts to the world outside the car. Lights flash past as we make our way out of the city. I don't think I have ever had a bigger regret than when I messed things up with Amelia.

A ping from my phone alerts me to a new message.

Amelia

Tbh my dating life hasn't been brilliant so I thought maybe this is what’s been missing.

So many memories flood my brain. That was me, the not brilliant dating life. A disaster of a dating life more like. I should tell her who I am but I can’t. Not yet.

4

All Or Nothing

Amelia

The water slowly creeps up to the bathtub’s edge. I step out of my trousers, dropping them in the laundry basket on the way back to the bedroom where I grab my pyjamas from underneath my pillow. A tiny flashing light on my phone tells me I have another message.

I giggle nervously. So far that Ben guy hasn't said much, but he has at least not been weird like some of the other guys. I’m contemplating if I should take the phone with me when Smutty strolls into the bedroom and looks at me expectantly.

“No, no belly rubs for you now. I need a bath.” He tries to stare me down, but I ignore him and head back to the bathroom with my phone held tightly in my hand. Who am I kidding? Not checking for messages was never an option.

As I walk past the full-length mirror, I catch a glimpse of myself. It’s been a while since a man has seen my squishy bits. I casually treat my tummy to a gentle love tap. My belly gives me a wobble shuffle in response. I shrug. I wonder if Ben likes his women thin or like me? No, no. You literally exchanged four messages with him.

"Ah, Smutty, what would you think if I brought a guy with a whip home?" Smutty blinks at me in response and gives me a chirpy little meow.

Weirdly the image that comes to mind is not a certain Mr Grey but Indiana Jones. Ha, BDSM Indy, now that gives Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom a completely different meaning.

I push through the initial pain and stinging sensation when my cold toes dip into the hot water and slide into the warmth. I swear I was a water nymph or a mermaid in my previous life. I could soak in a bath all day, until my fingers and toes resemble an ancient mummy's wrinkles.

Smutty plops himself on the bathmat and keeps a close eye on me. He despises water and always gets overprotective when I take a bath. Silly cat.

I reach for the hand towel hanging from the hook next to the sink and dry my hands before grabbing my phone. I hit the little message button on the dating app, making the first message pop up.

Wilfred

I'm Lord Anal Pain and would like to explore your back passage.

Eww. I almost drop my phone into the water when trying to delete that message. Lord Anal Pain. Seriously?