They were in plenty of time for the first class. Lucas took her up to the apartment first, so they could leave their bags. She dropped off her purse and cell phone too. He offered her a snack, but she wasn’t hungry – the butterflies in her stomach were dancing wildly.

He looked at her, raised his eyebrows. “Nervous?” he asked.

She started to shake her head “no,” but surprised herself by saying “Yes, Sir,” instead.

He nodded, “That’s ok, I’d be concerned if you weren’t a bit nervous.”

Sofia laughed, “That doesn’t exactly make me feel better!”

“No,” he agreed, “But making you feel better isn’t more important than being honest, is it? No. And you’re about to give up a whole lot of control. Classes with strangers where you don’t know what to expect. Putting yourself in my hands, giving me the power to do what I want with you…” his voice tones were light, but the words went straight to her heart.

She was flooded with arousal – and anxiety. Part of her wanted to run away and while another part wanted to throw herself at his feet and beg him to start now. She didn’t do either of those things, but he seemed to sense her dilemma.

He stepped closer to her, took her hand and led her to the couch. He sat, leaving her standing in front of him. “Kneel,” he said.

Heart pounding, she lowered herself to her knees.

“Are you ok with kneeling for a few minutes?” he asked. “Don’t want to damage your knees.”

She nodded, “Yes, Sir, I’m fine for a little while.” Her hands settled on her thighs, she rocked back on her heels.

“Good girl,” he said. He stroked her cheek. Traced her lips. She shivered. “I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to do, not today,” he said.

He paused, and those words, with the implication that sometime he might ask her to do things she didn’t want to do, just not today, settled on her. She felt herself open to him. It was not his assurance that he wouldn’t push her limits today that broke through her anxiety, it was the sense of his control. The feeling that he was in control of himself, and that she could trust him to take control of her.

She wanted that. She wanted that so badly. But she just nodded, “Yes, Sir,” she said, “I’m not afraid that you’ll hurt me, not exactly.”

He smiled, looking at her kindly. Reached for her wrists. With a hand encircling each wrist, she was acutely aware of her own vulnerability. “No,” he said, “There’s no reason to fear that I’ll hurt you.” He grinned. “Not much.”

And she whimpered, the sound bubbling up before she could stop it, it was a whimper of desire, she wanted him to touch her, to stroke and caress her, and to – ok, yes, to spank her. She wanted him to do whatever he wanted to do with her.

He shook his head ruefully, “Dammit,” he said, “If I didn’t have this meeting, we’d skip the classes and play now. But duty calls.”

He released her wrists, and she felt a wave of grief, which, she told herself, was ridiculous. He helped her to her feet, caught her hair firmly at the nape of the neck, making her gasp with pleasure and excitement. “Mine,” he said. Then he released her, “Just for tonight, of course. But we’ll pick up right here… as soon as I can manage it.”

“Yes, Sir!” she said, smiling. And he led the way downstairs.