Some readers have asked how I came to meet Tanya, the Domme in the Short Take below:

http://www.bdsmlibrary.com/forums/sh...omme#post47518

It was an interesting beginning, so I'm posting it now; sort of a reversal of 'the cart before the horse.'

I met Tanya, the hairdresser's wife at a book club luncheon. Picture a table with women that have more or less the same hair, highlighted shards of
blonde intermingled with dark chunks of hair for that natural look, cut in some version of the Doris Day bob. Men don't know what I'm talking about, but
women do. My Doris Day do was pulled up in a ponytail, just to be different.

Tanya sat at the far end of the table, in the corner, with an empty chair next to it. It took me a second to decide to sit next to her. I like interesting
people. She was an anomaly. For one thing, for a hairdresser's wife, she had a lot of matted ringlets on her maroon colored hair. Her skin was the color of
milk and her thick lips were a garish red.

What was I doing at the luncheon? Most of the ladies were on my tennis team and Tanya was the colorist for two of the ladies. The book was so lousy, I didn't finish reading it, so I went for the lunch. I could tell Tanya had not read it either.

Passive agressive rebels gravitate toward each other like magnets. As I slid into the seat next to her, she looked surprised and rearranged her belongings to make room for me. (I like to surprise. Who could refuse me? )

"Hi! My name is Nikita." I said.

"Tanya." she said with NO expression on her face.

Like the ponytail confident in her own skin, I forged ahead, "I bet you didn't read the book either."

She looked at me expressionless, "Well, it's not the book I would have picked."

"Me either," I quickly agreed.

"Well, what book would you have picked?" I asked innocently, hoping to find another rare depraved female like me.

By now, the glacier had melted to a big puddle on the floor and we were both slipping in it. Tanya wanted to say something but held back...rebels can read that in each other.

"The Story of O," she said quietly as her eyes looked arrogantly to the left and right.

"No!"

My eyes were glistened with delight as I tried to hide my curiosity, but I pressed further. Like schoolgirls at the back of class during a boring lesson, we were chatted away noisily while the book discussions continued.

Disapproving looks were directed at us like darts. We were oblivious.

Ever the nosy little ponytail, I asked innocently, "Why are YOU here, at the luncheon, really?"

I felt that at this point, since we were sitting in the puddle already, she would open up.

"My husband. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, even if it is for a day." she said sadly. "He's cheated on me so many times. Then he apologizes ever so sincerely and miserably, that I can't leave."

You could have knocked me over with a feather. Never, ever, expecting to hear such an admission, I decided to keep my mouth shut and let the woman talk.

She talked down into her dish and hesitated to raise her eyes. I saw tears welling up and they triggered my tears.

Triggers get me in a LOT of trouble. For instance, if someone is crying, even if it's on TV, I cry.

If someone tosses their cookies, I have to hold down a little of it, too. Tanya's story triggered a submissive response in me. Go figure.

"I want to teach him such a lesson. Sometimes, I want to deal him the same hand. I'm bisexual," she whispered. "You'd think I would have a few more choices than him."

Did my face look like it got hit by a truck? Does a bear shit in the woods? Drawing up every trick I learned in drama club, I leaned forward like a double
agent.

"Got anybody in mind?"

I sure didn't mean what I think SHE thought I meant. (or did I?)

We exchanged email addresses and promised to get together for lunch again.

A few days later, we were dispatching emails like peashooters. I admitted to being a dirty story writer, primarily obsessed with BDSM and its various
tangents.

That was the start of our instant messaging.

"Nik, If I admit something to you, will you keep it to yourself?"

"Of course!" I drooled.

"In my other life, I was a Domme. But I'm not anymore. I have kids. And my vanilla husband is uncomfortable with it."

I was too speechless to answer.

"Nik? are you there?"

"I'm here."

"Did I freak you out?"

"No."

Actually, she made my day.

"Lunch tommorrow?"

Did I have a choice?

I'll be going through my journal to rustle up additional meetings and such. Stay tuned.

Nikita