It's nearly eight. I'm sitting on the sofa, wearing a floor length black evening dress with a very low neckline and a side slit that comes all the way up to my hip. I'd never buy a thing like this on my own, or wear it for that matter, but Julie forced me to get it, and instructed me to wear it tonight. And I'm kind of glad I listened to her, because for the first time in my life I look sexy and know it. The shoes I bought to wear with it are gorgeous too. They’re made of shiny, black patent leather and have crazy high heels of the kind I only saw in magazines until now. I've been practicing walking in them for about an hour, and my feet are already aching from the effort.

I stand up as I hear the door lock rattling. The sudden movement makes me sway as I try to catch my balance, but the look on Eric's face is worth all the pain and more.

He's gazing at me with amazement, hunger, disbelief and everything in between. It's electrifying.

"My, you sure clean up nicely," he sighs more than says, then walks toward me, forgetting to close the front door behind him, and still clutching his briefcase.

His embrace unbalances me again, but it doesn’t matter because he's holding me tightly, his lips soft and wet against mine. The pain, the uncomfortable feeling because I'm wearing a sexy dress for the first time in my life, the odd arrangement that started our love affair, just melt in the heat of his kiss. It's deep and probing, yet caring and gentle too. I'm no longer just Joy as he kisses me. I'm also this desired and desirable being of light and warmth and all things good, and I never want this kiss to stop.

But it does, much too soon, leaving us both breathless.

"I was only partly serious saying you should dress up," he says, brushing my hair off my face. "But since you did, I'll take you out. Eating chili by the sink just won't do tonight."

I laugh, for the first time since I came here, I think, and his whole face softens.

"Just give me a couple minutes," he says, striding off towards his bedroom.

My legs aren't completely firm yet from that mind-blowing kiss, but I still manage to transverse the room to close the front door.

If I were to be completely honest, I want Eric to rip this dress off me, and take me right here and now. Make me submit. But dinner sounds good too. Better even.

He's ready in less than ten minutes, comes out wearing black pants, a jacket, and a white shirt. It's not much different to what he'd normally wear to the office, yet complements my evening dress perfectly.

"Here, this'll complete your outfit," he says, opening the black box he's holding. Inside it is the most gorgeous necklace I've ever seen. It's made of pearls and diamonds, which sparkle in the overhead lights. "Turn around."

It's so beautiful I forget to protest, just do as he says.

"This is too nice," I finally find my voice as I touch the necklace now hanging around my neck.

"No, it isn't," he says, twirling me around, so I'm facing him again. "It belonged to my mom, and it should be worn."

It's like he's saying, "She'd want you to wear it", but that could be just my imagination hearing what I want him to say.

"Let's go," he says suddenly, pulling me along by my hand.

One fast and wild ride through the crowded city streets later, we're parked in front of a large mansion that’s all lit up in dark red lights. The city skyline is glimmering in the distance, over a body of water so dark it looks like a sea of oil.

"What is this place?" I ask as he offers me his hand to help me out of the car.

"Just a place I like to visit from time to time."

It looks like some house straight out of a fairytale, but not in a good way. It's more like the home of some evil queen.

A man in a butler's uniform opens the door for us, and the ends of his jacket are almost trailing along the ground as he leads us into a huge dining hall. It's filled with small, round, white cloth covered tables. Only half of the tables are occupied, by couples mostly, and they all seem to be in a world of their own, none even noticing us walk past them.

We're seated at a table near the window, which is covered by thick, red velvet drapes. Everything in this room, apart from the white tablecloths, is in various shades of red; even the wood is a rich mahogany color.

The woman at the table closest to us is wearing a skimpy white dress, her ample breasts almost spilling out. But that's not what sends my heart racing. She's also wearing a thin silver collar with a chain that’s connected to a ring on the finger of the man dining with her. A quick scan of the room reveals the same kinds of chains around the necks of all the women here. Some of them are alone, the chains dangling from their collars like they're just waiting for some man to pick them up.

I look back at Eric just as a waiter presents one of those silver collars to him on a red velvet lined platter. I swallow hard.

"What is this place?" I ask in a barely audible whisper as soon as the waiter leaves.

"It's a place where slaves do their masters' bidding," he says, like that explains it all. But really it does. I'm his slave. The only reason he's letting me stay. And all the kisses and smiles won't ever erase that arrangement.

He's running the chain through his fingers, but not picking up the collar.

"I don't…I'm not sure…" I stammer, watching a man lead a woman across the room by her chain until they disappear through a wide, wooden door at the far end of the room.

"What happens behind that door?" I ask automatically, fear and curiosity making my voice hoarse.

"Like I already told you," Eric says, smiling at me. "That's where slaves do their master's bidding."

Everything suddenly seems so surreal that I'd be sure I was dreaming, if I wasn't wide awake.

"Are you ready to put on your collar now?" he asks, making me swallow hard again. How can I say no?

I nod.

The metal is so cold against my skin, I'm sure it left a burn mark.

The soup arrives, but I don't remember us ordering anything. And it's good, I should be enjoying it, but my mind is whirling with so many other thoughts I hardly taste it. Eric's not saying anything, and neither am I. This is so far from the dinner I was imagining us sharing tonight it's unbelievable.

"What really happens behind those doors?" I ask as another couple disappears through them.

"Why don't I just show you?" he says and stands up, pulling on the chain. The pressure isn't enough to lift me out of my seat, but I stand up anyway, my heart racing.

I'm sure everyone notices my legs shaking as I follow Eric across the room, strung along on the silver chain he's holding. I can't deny it's exciting, but it's also scarier than anything I've ever experienced.

I'm expecting to see a dungeon on the other side of the door, but we enter into a foyer with a wide marble staircase leading up. Behind it, there’s another, smaller, circular set of stairs leading down. This one is made of wrought black iron, and seems to lead into utter darkness.

He looks at it wistfully, and then at me. "Better take one of the upstairs rooms for tonight."

I have no idea what that means, but I'm so happy I don't have to go down into the darkness that I hardly care.

The stairs lead to a wide, red carpet lined hallway with many wooden doors, some open, some closed. I can hear muffled moans, shrieks, maybe screams. Then I'm standing in one of the rooms, the lock on the door making a rattling noise as Eric turns the key.

The room is dominated by a huge four-poster bed, and looks like a fancy hotel room, complete with a dresser, a vanity table and a huge, white-curtained window. That is, it would look like a fancy hotel room, if it weren't for all the chains, ropes, whips, canes, leather belts.

"Why are we here?" I ask, belatedly realizing just how dumb my question is.

Thick chains are attached to the bedposts, exactly where my arms and legs would go. I can't take my eyes off them. He means to tie me up—no, chain me up—then have his way with me. And I can't quite deny the idea is exciting, enticing even, but that's only a small voice drowned out by the much louder one screaming, "No!".

He's saying something, but it's not registering.

"You mean to chain me up?" I ask shrilly. "And beat me with those…those…"

I'm gesturing towards the whips and canes, unable to actually name them.

"Yes," he says, shrugging. He sounds calm, but his eyes are alight with a raging fire.

"Why?" I manage to choke out.

"I'll take that as a no then," he says, unfastening the collar around my neck and tossing it on the bed.

But that's not what I said, not really.

He unlocks the door, holding it open. "Come on, let's go."

He strides out into the hall, not waiting for me. I want to say I didn't say no, that I didn't mean it that way. But I did. Because the thought of being chained up, unable to move brought a fear so thick, so suffocating, I almost fainted.

And yet he tied me up last night and gave me nothing but pleasure. Probably the last he'll ever give me, now that I've rejected him.

We don't speak during the drive home. He doesn't look at me once.

"I just need some more time…maybe," I say to his back once we're inside the apartment. Why I added that "maybe" is beyond me, but those chains are still a real threat in my mind.

"We'll talk about it later," he says, not stopping on the way to his bedroom.

But I'm sure he means never, and a tear actually trickles down my cheek.

"Are you coming?" he asks, standing in the doorway to his bedroom.

And I very nearly run to join him.