My belly clenches and I shiver as the warmth of the room blasts me full in the face. I pause in the threshold as friendly light spills across me and the warmth seeps through my cashmere sweater, which is a little tighter than I would have strictly liked and pulls hard across my breasts with a not unpleasant friction. My nipples are round and hard with my excitement, and my nervous fear.

I scan the main room of the little corner pub, noticing they are almost dead. It is only ten and the Saturday night drinkers have not yet arrived, the dinner rush long since gone. A pair of old timers sit in one corner booth, playing draughts, a young woman alone at one table in the middle of the room, a pint across the table from her makes it clear she will soon be rejoined by some companion. At the bar is a middle aged and heavily overweight man, red faced and breathing hard as he picks at peanuts and nurses a glass of something dark and reddish and much harder than beer.

I step further into the room and my breath catches as I see: Him. His eyes meet mine and light with a smile, dancing with excitement. In response my belly churns, low and throbbing as heat washes into my sex. He is here, at long last after all this time, my Master has come for me.

Dressed in loose blue slacks which hug him a fitting manner, he lounges insouciantly at one table near the window, and I don't know how I haven't seen him as I walked past, but he must have seen me coming for he had been watching me I could tell, as my eyes swept the room. I feel my face heat and something tugs me towards him. I find myself stepping forward without thought, my mind lost to his dancing eyes. Some small part of me is glad I have chosen the curve hugging jeans I have on, as I would have felt overdressed against his casual attire in the dark skirt I had considered wearing. His button down shirt fits his broad shoulders well, and idly I wonder if he would spank me right here were I to give that beard a tug.

He stands as I walk up to him, admiring my form as I come, and he glances up and down me as I stand before him assessing me so frankly that I blush harder. 'My baby,' he says welcoming, 'I am so glad you are finally here.'

I look down, murmur, 'Thank you, Sir.'

He laughs softly, and the sound bores into my heart and nestles deep.

'Sit,' he says, and I slide into the chair opposite him as he settles back into his seat. The table between us is empty, he hasn't had a drink yet? Perhaps he has only just arrived seconds before me.

'I've been waiting,' he tells me, as if reading my thoughts, 'but not too long. And the barmaid has kept me entertained with those long legs of hers.'

I smile, he is teasing me, and it feels so good. The barmaid behind the bar is fifty if she is a day, and short, squat even. Not at all leggy.

I look at him, just drink him in, happy that he is here, and he looks back at me with a smile. I am at a loss for words I realize, not at all like me.

'Are you nervous?' he asks, and I blush and nod.