It features acts of sexual gratification of the dominant and submissive kind. If you’re not 18 years or older, find something else to read. The following short story is a work of fiction. How do you run from fate? The simple answer: You don’t. I didn’t know it then, but the moment I laid eyes on him, my life was forever changed. There was something about him that held me in thrall, rooted my feet to the floor and demanded my attention. I’d never been one who commanded a room — preferring the quiet solitude of a library to the limelight — so when it seemed his gaze had zeroed in on me in spite of the countless more attractive people who frequented the club downstairs, I was shocked by the stark hunger I saw in his eyes. And he wasn’t sly about it either; in fact, he was downright brazen, as if he had a right to allow his gaze to drift down my body in open assessment. I shivered and tried to look away. Most times, I went unnoticed. Why was tonight any different? Why would he give me a second glance, much less a look that fairly sizzled and smoked with carnal promise?
