u/ms-alt-

My husband and I are the parents of the groom. It was a normal enough ceremony. We were seated by the ushers, various combinations of my son’s and his bride’s relatives and friends marched down the aisle, 1 Corinthians 13:4 was read, yadda yadda yadda, and now the fourth of our five kids is married.

The reception started out normal enough, too. It was a served dinner with choice of beef and fish. The bride’s father gave a toast. My husband gave a toast. There was the first dance between my now daughter-in-law and her father, then my son and myself, then the whole wedding party with music from my generation and my parents’ generation. (The grandparents are there, too.) The DJ quickly transitioned to music from your generation, and the room suddenly got quite a bit louder.

See, you’re one of the bridesmaids, one of the bride’s best friends in fact. We just met at the rehearsal dinner the day before, yesterday, that is. Deep into the dance party, the DJ plays another obligatory slow dance that I shared with my husband before he peeled off to have a beer with some new friends of his. This leaves me to smile as I watch you unsuccessfully flirt with the bartender. Sure, she flirts back just like she did with the two guys who unsuccessfully flirted with her just before you, but it’s all just for the tips. So I get your attention to come sit at my table and we can chat.

I’m relatively tall at 5’9’’ and slim. I have my graying dark hair styled in a no-nonsense short cut. I have brown eyes and have only simple make up. I’ve taken off my navy blazer to show off a more fun blue, pink, and red floral-sequined top, as it’s starting to bloom all over the place this mid-spring. My jewelry is a bit more showy than what I usually wear, celebrating my son’s wedding.

It's more likely that you’d remember me as Samantha, mother of the bride, but I do make you remind me of your name. I say that my husband is around here somewhere, motioning vaguely with my hand, and we make small talk. Eventually I roll my eyes and point out my husband flirting with the bartender so you can watch her mouth the same words that she used on you five minutes ago.

I explain. “It’s fine. We’re in a complicated open relationship. We don’t exactly hide it, but we don’t exactly flaunt it, either. I really thought it would be just the two of us tonight, though.”

I begin a little nervous bounce of my foot, my closed toe red heel dangling off of the end. “I guess I better start flirting myself if I’m going to get laid tonight, too,” I speak perhaps a little more openly after a couple of glasses of wine than I normally would. “If he ends up with blue balls, that’s on him.” I shift my legs, cross them the other way to steady my bouncing foot. I let the slit up my simple black skirt fall open to reveal the lace top of a cream-colored stocking. “And to think, I got this set new for him tonight.” I let my eyes scan the room as I bite my lower lip. “Do you know anyone who might be available?”

I turn back to you with a smile that might be interpreted anywhere from playful irony to deadly seriousness. “My god, that bastard probably already has another room reserved.”

Feel free to invite me to your room in your own way. Just so you know, I’ll be open to it but also let you know that I’ve never done this with another woman before.

Please, just jump in, perhaps filling in the vignette that I gave from your point of view.

Kinks: You take the lead. Show me a good time. Show me how to show you a good time. Dominate me, even.

Limits: No ruined holes, no animals, no orgies, no under-aged, no outright lesbian conversion, no blood, no bathroom fluids, no non-con

My first “real job” out of law school was junior prosecutor in the Jackson County Attorney General’s office. It was a bit of a conservative, tough-on-crime, circuit. I was involved in a wide variety of low-level cases such as traffic violations, petty theft, and disorderly conduct. About once a year the police set up a prostitution sting operation. The pimps didn’t get special treatment, but usually the escorts and the johns spent a night in jail, pleading down to a lesser charge, and moving on with their lives. They didn’t end up on a list, and I got to rack up convictions for my resume. One of those women was you, put in handcuffs almost as soon as you answered the door of the room of the rundown hotel that your “manager” put you in for the night.

Fast forward 20 years, and I recently got elected to State Attorney General. Times have changed, and the jurisdiction is more liberal. As a result, the priorities are more focused on tax evasion, enforcing environmental law on manufacturers, and advising the governor and legislature on complying with federal law.

I’m stressed. Taking care of myself isn’t cutting it anymore, so I look to book a professional.

You.

You've rebranded yourself a couple of times since our paths crossed. Now you have a website with professional photos and attract a new clientele that has at least a veneer of respectability. I don't recognize you at all.

Sure, there’s a conflict of interest, but I also know how to be discreet just like I know you know how to be discreet. It’s not like my office would be interested in going after you, anyway. We leave the $1000/hr women alone. They can afford a decent lawyer. The cases can’t be prosecuted easily.

It’s impossible that I’d remember you. Come to think of it, there’s only a slim chance that you’d remember me unless you were paying attention to the State AG election. I was just a 20-year-old younger face across the aisle in the courtroom and a name on some official documents. I suppose that my name eventually rang a bell, and you confirmed that I was the same person who put you in jail for a night all those years ago.

Maybe I should mention that I’ve always considered myself straight and have never done anything with a woman before.

I’m not looking for this to be a revenge session once I get into your studio. Heck, maybe you even voted for me. I’m just looking for a new edge on my writing.

Kinks: bondage, bi-curious, toys, pain, being told what to do, trying things for the first time, light humiliation

Limits: bathroom activities, blood, injury, animals, underaged characters, outright lesbian conversion.

I could come up with a bigger backstory, but I guess it doesn’t really matter. I’m browsing some escort ads, then some dominatrix profiles, then I see yours with one image of you sporting a strap-on that nearly comes down to your knees. It’s not “unrealistic,” per se. But the size is toward the upper end of what might be considered a large erection.

The thing is, I’ve only been with average-sized men, and only men for that matter. I can deepthroat that size, but I do gag. I can enjoy a pretty good pounding if I’m warmed up properly, too, but I’ve never taken anything larger. Nor have I really wanted to until I saw that image.

Physically, I’m around 40, tall with about 10 extra pounds that I could lose. I have dark hair in a no-hassle short style a little past my ears. I’m somewhat newly-single with a couple of adult or near-adult children. When I introduce myself to you, you would know that I’m Nicole, my age, my request for a two-hour session at your place, and a simple list of kinks and limits:

Kinks: bondage, pain, following orders, boot/heel-licking, hair pulling, trying new things

Limits: animals, children, bathroom fluids, blood, non-con, “ruined holes”

How do you reply to my appointment request?