I'm way across the street from him now, cars streaming between us. I point at my ear with the Bluetooth receiver implanted inside.
He puts the transmitter up to his mouth. My heart is nearly pounding out of my chest. This is it. This is me putting my head on the chopping block.
He can say "Go home." That's all he needs to do. He can just tell me to go and I will. That's the bargain. That's the agreement. I always keep my agreements.
He raises the transmitter to his mouth.
I clench my teeth, my eyes wide open. I'm breathing hard, my hands locked behind me.
I will do whatever he says, I remind myself, I will do whatever he says.
Even if he tells me to go home.
He's about to speak, his face still locked in that frozen visage and half-smile. Then he laughs, turns sideways, raises the transmitter up to his mouth and says, "Let’s play."
I nod my head.
Oh my God!
Yes! The fire starts anew down below. He's playing. I've gotten him to play! That was the hardest step.
"My sweet dirty whore," he says, "you're naked, aren't you?"
Wow, kudos to the body paint artist. Even the great Lukas Thorn can't really tell that I’m naked.
"You realize what you've set yourself up for? You're going to have to prove that to me, you know."
"You're going to have to prove that to me in public."
Oh God! The very thought sends me into delirium. Yes, I will. Yes, I'll do anything. In front of anybody. To please you. Yes, I will. I so want you. I so want you to tell me to do horribly nasty things in front of other people. I so will do anything you ask. All you have to do is command me.