Service: *
Food: N\/A
Ambience: * * *
Babe Count: * *<\/i> <\/p>\n
I’ve finished editing for the day. And I’ve arrived at Cool Runnings with at least an hour to spare before the monthly BDSM moot convenes. This month, they’ll be talking about the sadistic art of spanking, something Karen tells me I’m pretty good at. I’m keen to learn more.<\/p>\n
I order a Tab with extra lemon, and I go and sit out on the balcony, ready to greet my fellow perverts as they arrive for the moot.<\/p>\n
I get lost checking email on my palmtop computer, and a quarter hour has passed. I notice that I’m absent-mindedly tapping the table with the flat of my hand. Getting in some practice.<\/p>\n
Finally, my Tab arrives. The waitress doesn’t apologise for its lateness.<\/p>\n
I answer a call, send an email, and it’s 7:30. Odd that no fierce dominants and subservient submissives have arrived by now. <\/p>\n
I call MMM. “Hey,” I say, adding his real name as a matter of courtesy, “is tonight moot night?”<\/p>\n
“Nah. It’s next week.”<\/p>\n
I hang around for another half hour, wondering if the waitress is avoiding me. Maybe she’s into BDSM? Maybe she’s trying to provoke me into giving her a good spanking?<\/p>\n