The Art of Romantic Domination.  I almost called this blog just that, because isn’t that the truth?  There is the overt – the clear and present power exchange. But there are also the subtleties that permeate the relationship.  The unexpected.  The tiny surprise that becomes an ongoing titillating, presence.

We have met for quick coffee in the middle of the day.                                      

A rewarding respite from our work.                                                                     

We sit chatting and I say something cheeky.  A little quip that is close to the invisible line.  I see the flicker of something in his eyes.  Without knowing why I push the envelope.  (I tell myself that, but I do know why.  It is simply in my nature to test).

The flicker becomes a knowing look, but he doesn’t respond.  No scolding, no threat, no promise of the consequences for my disrespectful sarcasm.  His silence is causing a familiar twirl in my stomach, and I watch, mesmerized, as he reaches into his jacket pocket and withdraws a small notebook and pencil.  Staring at me he flips it open, then casts his eyes down to write.           

I want to ask – need to ask – but my voice is warning me sit and be still.  I watch the pencil float across the paper.  The twirl is growing into a dust devil.  I can do no more than wait.  So I do, sipping my coffee – which suddenly has no flavor.

Finally his hand flips it closed and returns it to its hiding place.

“May I ask?” I squeak.

“Of course you may,” he answers, then stares at me. I have to actually ask..

“What was – I mean – what were you writing?”  My voice sounds feeble.

“That’s my new notebook,” he states quietly.  “It will be used to track all your cheeky little remarks, all your naughty behavior – anything I determine worthy.”

The dust devil has been joined by its twin, and together they are making it difficult to breathe.

“Why?” I inquire.  “I mean – do you think that’s really necessary?”

“Why?  Because I want to.  It pleases me – for many reasons, none of which you need to know.  Necessary?  That’s not for you to determine.”

I spend the rest of the day thinking about the notebook.  Throughout the week it makes its appearance – frequently.  To what end?  Mine I’m sure.

It was a simple act, but it was the subtle simplicity itself that provided the intense erotic power.

The crafty cleverness with which it was introduced has caused it to be my constant companion – every waking moment.

That is Art.