The Blind Date

By Anietta Strong

Excerpt from The Blind Date

‘So, this was your man, were you disappointed?’ Jess got up and brought a cafetière of coffee back to their seating positions together with two cups. She tossed a towel at Amy too.
‘For fuck’s sake Amy please cover it. I know I was eating it last night but a girl can get full up you know, especially when she knows she has to go on a strict diet!’ Jess hoped Amy wouldn’t immediately pick up on the message behind the comment, thus preventing her from explaining that things would have to change and soon. Thankfully the words seemed to drift over her head.
‘No Amy, when he said we had to go, I put the brakes on. There was this chopper parked nearby, but so were a long line of expensive cars. My immediate reaction was I wasn’t going to climb into a car with this stranger who looked like he was wearing clothing he could just remove and destroy after he’d raped and beaten shit out of me! Then the girl receptionist intervened and reassured me I should go, that I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t. Then I noticed the reception area filling, something was up. Then it dawned Amy, I was heading towards the parked helicopter and this lovely guy, his name was Robert by the way, was its pilot. Everyone was piling in to watch us take off. Imagine, me, Jessica James in a fucking helicopter, how good was that!’ Jess looked up; Amy’s mouth was open.
‘You jammy cat! So, you really did fly to Paris then. Oh my god, I think I might even consider giving Charles a blow job if he promised me that!’ Jess replied silently by sticking two fingers in her mouth and feigning vomiting onto her kitchen floor.
‘We took off, everyone was waving, I gave the queen’s wave back. I honestly felt like royalty Amy, it felt that good. Then we flew to Paris, we skirted the Eiffel Tower and landed quite close to Notre Dame cathedral. I was taken to this luxury boat moored nearby and that’s when I met Keats.’ Jess stopped at this point. She poured two cups of coffee and closed her eyes briefly as she recalled that moment.

The Blind Date is a beautifully written story which brings several real but very traumatic events starkly combined into in a single story. This is not a book for the sensitive or faint of heart as it brings together a woman approaching her 30s who meets a much older man in his mid-sixties. Both suffered terrible sexual abuse in childhood and it has affected them equally as those events followed them into adulthood as unwanted baggage. Jess yearns to be little. She seeks an older man to be her Daddy. She wishes to form a relationship which will allow herself to return to an age of perfection which to her was the happiest of her life. This was when she was taken to a place of sanctuary by her grandfather, removing her from a drug addicted mother who sold her daughter for men to abuse in exchange for cash to feed her habit. At this same age, the man was facing the start of abuse of a more violent and sadistic type which has continued to the present day. They meet on-line and after a first unforgettable blind date they meet again at the wealthy man’s lavish country residence where they try to come to terms with each other’s past and form a meaningful relationship going forward. A masterpiece of sadomasochistic excess brutally exposed with raw sexual extremes described in a sensitive, romantic way.
This is an uncomfortable read. Without detailing some events it leaves the reader in little doubt what took place and sadly reflecting the society in which we live and possibly always have.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anietta Strong
• Release date: Nov 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005394172

Anietta Strong

Hi, I'm Anietta, I've always loved to write even before my teens. Like most people who built a career and led a busy life,I took up writing seriously when life calmed down, which for me was when my family grew up and left the nest. I love to write about difficult issues, not shying away from areas where some writers prefer to avoid. Yes, they are edgy, maybe sexy too, but that is life. I'm particularly interested in women's issues and my characters reflect my own personality. I hate political correctness, the airbrushing of history, our cancellation society, Woke culture, and speak and write without fear. I hope you enjoy my books.Please note. all characters depicted in my books are over 18 when features in appropriate scenes in each book

Book preview

Chapter One

' My name is Jessica.’

‘I like much older men.’ This is what she wanted to call out to the group of young mothers in the play area as they stood in a group talking. She came here often but being female, it didn’t create the same sense of unease it would have, had she been a man. She felt comfortable here. It matched who she was and how she felt. Jessica wondered what their reaction would be if she did call that out? Probably they would have ignored her, imagined she wasn’t right in the head, or that same head was befuddled with drugs, maybe something she’d smoked.

’I know what you’re thinking. That it’s odd for me to feel that need’ she’d probably call out after a while, then, when she realised any reply wasn’t forthcoming. ’It really is how I want to be; I don’t trust younger men.’ Jessica didn’t call out, she wanted to but she knew if she did, she’d suffer humiliation. She’d suffered a lot in her young life, but the one thing she couldn’t handle, cope with, was humiliation. Being derided, laughed at. She had borne pain, that felt almost a given. Something to expect. But that was nothing to the crushing sense of failure she felt when she was the butt of someone’s cruel humour.

What if she had called that out? Who knows, they might have accepted or even agreed with her first sentence. Maybe they feel that way too. Then, in just a single breath away.

’You what? Someone on a Zimmer frame, just hoping he’d die and you’d come into a fortune?’ Laughter would follow. Jessica would have felt her face redden and her vision lose slight focus as tears filled her eyes. She knew she would have to try to recover some lost ground.

’I know, it sounds plain fucking weird. But I feel more comfortable with older men, especially if they are strict but caring. You’re even wondering if you heard me right, aren’t you? Did she really say that?’ Jessica realised then she should really stop digging. How often did she do this? It was a bit like an addicted gambler, having just had a loss, so, just one more throw of the dice would put things back on track. Perhaps it had been a win? Just one more throw would increase the pile of chips. Jessica was sure she’d only make things worse. Didn’t she always, didn’t she know when to stop digging that hole which she feared would become her grave? She’d continue, creating more bemusement on the faces of her audience.

’Oh, and yes, I can’t help it if I look younger than I am, like I’m still at school? perhaps you think that is why I’m in a play area when I haven’t got a child with me, like you have.’ Jess as she called herself plainly wasn’t, she was a woman in her late twenties although she really did look so much younger. ‘I could explain, but you wouldn’t understand. You’d probably think on top of everything else I was not just plain fucking weird; I was mad too. Besides, it would take me far too long to explain. But then again, I’ve got plenty of time, I’ve got all the time in the world.’ Thankfully, she hadn’t said anything, the small group of women had continued talking amongst themselves, the occasional pause for laughter as one had struck a humorous chord. Jessica closed in on herself. She did that a lot. It was her method of self-preservation. A time of reflection. Where she could remain in the present, but always, revert back to the past. Her past.

She’d known this much older man just a few weeks, it wasn’t long. Jessica smiled. If she had told the group of women, now packing their things and preparing to head off, that blunt fact, she would once again have picked up the spade and continued her relentless digging.

‘I often wonder about my own father and how old he’d be now; older than the man I met recently. My father left when I was about five. Mum and he were always arguing. He hit her a lot too.’ Jessica realised she was actually talking. She was now alone and the only living things to hear her words were birds pecking away at what had remained of food someone had consumed on the seat where she now sat. She looked left and right, checking nobody would come into earshot and hear her words. She continued.

’The new man in my life is much older than me and I was going to live with him.’ The birds at her feet were too preoccupied to worry over a woman talking to herself. With the women gone, the situation Jessica found herself in was quite rare. It was the main reason she came to the children’s play area. There were swings, a seesaw, climbing ropes and a play castle. Children could climb the steps, dwell at the top and play, or move across to a slide at the far side and gliding to the floor on the shiny surface be ready to run around back to the steps and do it all over again. The swings were free. Why not, she thought? She knew the older man she knew wouldn’t approve; he liked her the age she was but playing on kids swings in a play area? She knew she should be at home now and he’d be disappointed if dinner wasn’t ready for when he arrived home. She knew she looked quite young, much younger than her true age, so was it strange wanting to play on equipment close to where she was seated?

Jessica realised she was wasting time. The sun had gone in and clouds were building. Fearing it would soon rain she left the bench and raced across the soft play surface and upon reaching the swings she sat down, grasping the securing chains as she did do. Without further delay, she launched herself forward allowing her weight to propel herself into an upward arc. Reaching the top, her momentum slowed, then, coming to a stop Jessica went into reverse, swinging back down. As she came through the start point once more, Jessica pulled on the chains to gain more power. She squealed with joy, not caring if anyone was looking. It was a rare experience; one she’d never enjoyed as a child. Then, her life had been joyless, staying at home mostly, except when she went to school. Even here, her attendance was erratic. Her mother said she was a sickly child, one that was prone to picking up colds and other ailments. She didn’t take part in sport or gym lessons, but Jessica knew the real reason was something totally different. 

Spots of rain started to fall. Jessica knew she’d have to finish soon and rush home. She saw the play castle facing with its steep, inviting slide. As the swing came down on its forward arc she let go of the chains and was propelled through the air back onto her feet. Allowing that forward momentum to work in her favor, she continued to run until she reached the steps of the tall structure. She grabbed the rails and climbed, continuing until she reached the top. Once there, she stopped briefly to look around and admire the view. The park was large, with grassy areas where in the summer months people would sit and picnic in groups. Jessica had hoped she might return here with the new man in her life and he wouldn’t mind while she expressed her needy side, her immature childish side.

A flock of geese swooped just over treetops as they headed to a lake which Jessica could clearly see to her left. She watched as they splashed down, opening their wings and lowering their legs at the last minute in the same way a plane came into land on the tarmac. The wind suddenly picked up and a flurry of rain reminded her of where she was and why she had climbed up onto the castle-like structure. So, without further delay, she ran to the end, grabbed the support rails, and lowering herself sat down on top of the shiny slide. She wriggled her bottom forward, then letting go and placing her hands in her lap she felt herself move forward, increasing speed until she reached the ground. The exhilaration was far too short lived. She knew she could get to her feet and do it all over again but she had run out of time. She glanced at her watch; she knew she had to leave now. Besides. It was starting to rain and she would get wet if she didn’t hurry. She feared what he would say if she returned home and he found her wet and bedraggled. She might even end up being sent to her room. Keeping to the path under the trees she was protected. It was raining harder now but it seemed to be brightening up and she hoped it was just a passing shower. She reached the park entrance and by the time she reached the large green gates, any rain now falling was just the occasional spot or two. She stepped it out, crossing the busy road. Soon she found herself standing at the front door. Jessica felt for her key and grasping it, she opened the front door and quickly entered. 

Jessica realised she was late; the man she now lived with rarely was and she had so much to do before he announced his arrival. She laid the table, meanwhile, she placed a casserole from the fridge into the oven to warm. That part of her preparation was complete. She knew the next part was specific to her. She went to her bedroom and quickly removed her wet clothing and placed them in the bin for washing. She was naked. Jessica enjoyed being naked, or at least she did now. She’d often found herself naked in her young life, often in the company of men. Sometimes just one man but often with a group. She shook at the memory as it briefly returned. She hadn’t enjoyed what they did, but there was no choice. Now there was just this older man and she loved being naked for him. He was kind but firm. She liked that. While she liked to be undressed, she didn’t like to see herself. There was no mirror on her wall. Because of what had happened in the years before she met him, she felt a sense of self-loathing, disgust. He was reassuring, telling her she was pretty and had a perfect body, but what had been done to her body, the abuse it had taken, removed any pleasure from his words. 

Jessica went to her wardrobe and opened the double doors. Hanging inside were her special dresses. They were all of the same similar pattern, gingham. They were all very short and the only variation was that of colour. They were mostly pink, her favourite colour, but there were others in blue and green. There was even one in yellow. She selected pink. She felt pink today. Taking it and laying it carefully on her bed, she went to a chest of drawers and selected a pair of knee-high white socks. That was it. Her clothing for later use was ready. There were no panties, no bra. He said a bra wasn’t necessary and underwear was forbidden. She didn’t mind, it felt free to never wear panties, even at school. Taking the dress and her socks she left her room. She walked across the landing and entered the bedroom where they slept. She looked at the made bed and saw her favourite teddy just sticking out from the covers. He, yes it was a male bear, was there because she always came into his room at night. She slept naked, another insistence, and she always left her own bed in the early hours despite being tucked in really tight every night.

She looked at the clock. Ten minutes only and she would hear the front door close and he would call out. She'd call back. ’I’m here, waiting.’ Placing the dress on a nearby chair, Jessica went to a bedside drawer and removed a tube. She deftly removed the cap and placed it on the bed. She then climbed on the bed and knelt; legs parted. She leaned down until her head touched the covers and waited.

Jessica James woke with a start. Once again, the reoccurring nightmare had come to the same point, that moment when the man she yearned for arrived and moved towards where she knelt expectantly waiting. She knew what she’d hoped would happen but it never did. Why she had even wanted it to happen was a mystery. It had happened in her distant past when, as a child, she had been sexually abused many times. But that was then. She had left that period of her life behind. Now she was an adult in her late twenties. In her professional life, everything was going to plan. When she arrived at work and took her place in the comfortable chair within her plush office, those who reported to her, including a secretary who would be waiting to outline the day ahead, would have no idea of the trauma which was her personal life.

Chapter Two

Six Weeks Earlier

Jess had a large bed and as with her immature persona, she had a well-worn, over-loved, teddy bear which would be left tucked in and ready to be hugged and clasped to her naked body later when she came to bed. Jessica, or Jess as she preferred to be called, didn’t have a man in her life. She did have boyfriends; she’d had girlfriends too. Not just those to have lunch or to go clubbing with either. She’d shared a bed with a woman and had had far more enjoyment from physical sex with another woman than she’d ever experienced with a man. Much of this need to be with a woman she’d put down to fear. Her experience with men so early in her life had left her scarred. A woman couldn’t rape her. She didn’t have to fear things happening to her no woman should ever have to experience.

She reached out an arm. All she felt was a flat ruffled bed. There was nobody sharing her bed which now seemed a nightly issue. Another factor was trust. Who she chose to share her bed with was very different to just sharing a bed? When she did, it was in a place where beds abounded. A hotel was a safe venue, an anonymous place. In her job, travel was a regular occurrence. It had its advantages but it had pitfalls too. An attractive woman in a bar attracted men like bees attracted to honey. Often, she found herself in the centre of a celebration, or some convention where men behaving badly defied hope and became an expectation. Jess refused to shun such events out of principle. Normally, she’d look for a lone woman and join her. She knew the type and her sexual antenna rarely failed to spot someone looking for company and a bed to share. 

Men were a different matter altogether. She knew what they wanted. None, so far, had matched her expectations. Very few had got inside her guard and even fewer had penetrated the final barrier they had all felt could be breached when they’d started out. Jess didn’t trust men. With one exception every man she’d ever met had betrayed her. Betrayal had stalked her like she was mere prey. None had betrayed her more than her own mother, someone every girl should expect to keep her safe. Any hope Jess had of a normal childhood was wrested away as men, her mother brought home, had her offered to them as a plaything, at a price. Those memories always distressed Jessica. Even her own name upset her, reminding her of the woman who had chosen it. Then solace. Her mother was arrested for running a brothel. Neighbours, sick of men visiting the house at all hours, complained. The police were shocked to find a young child living in the midst of squalor. Initially, Jessica was taken into care but then a relative was found, her grandfather. He had become estranged from Jessica’s life. In fact, he didn’t even know where she lived until social services came knocking to confirm he was indeed related. But there was a problem. Robert James lived alone; his wife Edith had passed away. How could a girl, not yet in her teens, live with a man in his sixties?

Jess smiled and cuddled her bear as warm feelings replaced those of abuse at the hands of depraved men. She remembered the day she’d arrived at the home of the older man she only vaguely remembered. She was taken to her new bedroom which had been decorated pink, her favourite colour. There was little then to remind her of a previous life, she had few possessions anyway. She did have her precious bear and that was all she needed. Jess remembered her wardrobe being opened and seeing pretty dresses hanging in a line. They were in a gingham pattern, pink, green, blue and yellow. Jess felt a shudder run through her body as her dream returned, how she’d returned from the park and removed her wet clothes and opened another wardrobe and seen similar dresses. 

Jess soon forgot her immediate past. Blanking them out was a more accurate description. By day, with school being the greatest distraction, she was able to erase the memory of what those men did to her. Their hands all over her body, the pain they caused, especially the spankings. Those memories only returned at night when reflections from street lighting affected by trees in full leaf, pierced the curtains of her room and danced like fiery monsters on the ceiling. She’d wake to scream with fear and then help arrived in the form of her grandfather who came and sat by her bed to comfort her. Sometimes, when Jessica was so inconsolable, he’d scoop her up and carry her to his own bed. Other times she would make that journey herself and sneak in under the covers and fall asleep in total comfort and safety. 

Jess felt her eyes brimming with tears as she was reminded of his death. She was just eighteen then. She still lived in that same house, left to her in his will, or so she thought. Jess now lay in that same bed. It was a bed no other man had been allowed to share. It was his bed. It would always be his bed.

Jess got up to make tea. It was weekend so she didn’t have to get up early, hit the shower and prepare for her high-powered day. She always slept naked and she still wore no clothes as she went down to the kitchen to pour boiling water over a tea bag. Squeezed, and with a splash of milk added, she returned to her bed and taking her tablet computer, which had been on an overnight charge, she fired it up. There were work-related emails which she ignored, instead, she went to KIK. Jess had been a member for nearly six months. She had heard a group of women mention the media platform, so she had checked it for herself. For some time, she’d been asking herself serious questions. Was she gay? She’d had more sexual experiences with other women than with men. She concluded she was probably bisexual because she did find men sexually attractive. While that was true, there was something else, she was frightened of men and especially being alone with a man or groups of men. She knew why of course.

Being analytical and pragmatic Jessica had listed everything on a large sheet of paper. She had been on a troubleshooting seminar and had learned a method of displaying complex issues by adopting mind mapping techniques. She had made some startling conclusions, of which two really surprised her. The first confirmed she found some women sexually attractive but conversely, she was particularly attracted towards much older men. Her immediate conclusion was this was directly linked to the relationship she’d had with her grandfather, although that had never been remotely sexual. The second finding was that she was submissive. Jess couldn’t see that initially. Her job demanded a dominant approach, so how could she possibly be the opposite? She had gone to work with that thought foremost in her mind and she quickly realised her behaviour was, in fact, a front. A role-play. 

Jess knew her being dominant and assertive created moments of high stress. Her skin became clammy and she tended to hyperventilate. It was all an act and she quickly concluded she got others to do her dirty work. She was operating way outside her comfort zone and what she yearned for most was to revert to being a young girl again and for an older man to be there and once again provide her protection. So, she concluded, everything about her was one big lie, she was a fraud. She’d lain in bed night after night wishing she could remain young, although she was troubled when she discovered the age where she’d felt most comfortable. How could a mature woman now wish to be a teenager? Ever the inquisitor, Jessica researched her strange feelings. Soon, to her relief, she found she wasn’t alone. There was an emotional state described, so she delved even deeper and the more she did it seemed to describe herself. Even more surprising it linked up with her desire to meet a much older man. It suddenly all fell into place. She now knew what she needed and perhaps she knew exactly where to look.

Jessica joined KIK. She found it slightly confusing at first. Why? How was she going to use it? She had very few friends who she could invite to join her. Even then, for what purpose? She wasn’t on Facebook and if she needed to communicate, she rarely needed immediate interaction. Jess saw the KIK website had groups where like-minded people could join. But wasn’t that just a chat room? She had tried joining one of two but just sat in the background, lurking, watching the manic interaction taking place before her eyes. She didn’t even know how to join in. Did she even want to? Was there even a theme or some purpose in trying?

Jess thought back to the main conclusions of her research. She wanted most of all to meet a much older man, much like her grandfather, his replacement? Jess felt a desire to submit to him. Give herself totally to him. The only issue seemed to be how to approach it. The first hurdle to overcome was her KIK title. A moment of inspiration arrived, Jesse1993, the year she was born. Thankfully the name hadn’t already been taken so she joined. Then a decision over which group to join. She put Dom into the search box and she was overwhelmed by the number of groups displayed. Jess sensed that most felt too controlling, far too dominant. While she knew she was submissive, she didn’t want to meet men who treated her like a doormat, to become downtrodden and walked over. She didn’t wish to portray herself as desperate and feeling a man was the only solution to her troubled life. Jess knew there was a huge void in her life but to fill it she needed a very special male presence.

She tried another tack. Perhaps the solution was to find a like-minded person. Almost certainly another woman, but someone she could share her feelings with. Jess had long found solace from being part of the herd. That, along with isolation, became fear. Fear of being just one single person with feelings she had to keep to herself at all costs. How could she risk being exposed? Jess typed submissive and searched. This felt better. The groups and their membership felt more her type. She looked at several and found they were fully subscribed. Others were barely populated. Finally, she found subsonlywelcome. It looked exactly what she had been looking for, so she joined. 

Chapter Three

Jess was seated in her kitchen eating breakfast. She had a dining area where she occasionally entertained but she preferred her kitchen because everything she needed was close to hand, especially the coffee maker. While she nibbled toast, she logged onto KIK which displayed a couple of messages. Since joining, she had ventured into her chosen chat-room, where she felt more comfortable now, she shared it with those on common ground. While the group consisted mainly of women there were a number of men too. They claimed to be submissive also, but experience had taught Jess some were disguising themselves, acting as a Trojan horse to get into the midst of women seeking to escape from the clutches of potentially abusive men. Jess didn’t fret or lose sleep over such matters. While it was more difficult to fend off men who came onto her in real life, the virtual sex pest could quickly be blocked or reported online.

She opened a text from one such man she’d had a brief contact with the previous evening. He’d sent her a personal message outside the group requesting further contact. She had replied, politely explaining she wasn’t looking for personal friendship. He had ceased further contact and Jessica had assumed he’d got the message. To her dismay, he had replied again and there was an attachment showing. She guessed what it would be and her instinct didn’t leave her wanting. There was a short video of him masturbating, his hand gripping a penis almost as large as his ego. She could report him to the group moderator but instead, she pressed the block button against his name. In the months she had been a member Jess had lost count of the number of cocks she had been sent. Some were impressive while others were an embarrassment.

The other message was from a female she had known almost from the minute she had joined. She was having a bad time with her live-in partner and things had become physically abusive. Jess tried to imagine what that would be like if it was happening to her. So far, since her beloved grandfather had passed away, she had not met anyone even close to being allowed into her private domain. All her personal life was engaged in outside the walls of her home and despite the loneliness she continually felt, Jess was content, knowing she could enter her castle and wind up the drawbridge. Even so, had she invited a lover home to live within its confines, she knew she’d throw him out in an instant if he’d raised his hand against her. Jess had appealed to her friend to do the same, but as always, in so many cases, she didn’t know the details. Was he living with her, or was she living with him?  What were the arrangements of that liaison? Could she leave? Did she want to leave? She’d heard of so many women who struggled to end an abusive relationship. Moments of violence and fear corrected instantly by promises that such behavior was a one-off. It would never be repeated and very often the woman being told she had brought it upon herself.

Jess decided she would reply later. Now she was keen to enter the chatroom, check the membership and see if anyone new had joined overnight. To her surprise, there was someone new. It was a male member too. Instantly her interest gathered pace. She checked his profile and found just the image of a stormy scene. A deserted windswept shore with waves breaking over the rocky headland. She knew much thought went into a profile image. Hers she knew was provocative, or it could be to some. A selfie of her holding a teddy bear against her face, only her nose and mouth showed. But Jess had deliberately raised the stakes by painting her lips bright red and those same lips were parted. A sigh? A moment of orgasm, of ecstasy? Even she wasn’t sure, she felt it was up to the viewer to decide and if it was a man, for him to inquire? 

Sadly, most had taken those lips as an invitation. A come on? The greatest sadness she’d felt so far, and one which was even now questioning whether to continue her membership, was the quality of those replies she did receive. Jess loved words. Her grandfather had taught her from the moment she had arrived in his life the importance of the written word. To read and just as important to write. She hated men who felt the best way to respond to her image was to send what she now described as a dick-pic! Hadn’t she had one in her replies just that very morning. Just as annoying, to her, were the one-liners she got from virtually anyone. 

She looked again at the image of the latest member and Jessica, as always, wondered what it said about the person behind it. His age, why the image had been chosen in the first place. People rarely showed their real face. The protective measure most felt and particularly when the sensitive nature of the group identity was the greatest consideration. Several male members she knew were unsure of their sexual identity and Jess knew she didn’t want to enter a halfway house with someone unsure if they wished to be male or female. Another question kept arising in her thinking? She was in a group for submissive people. She wanted to meet a much older man, but he needed to be more dominant than she was. Jess knew in every walk of life; no two people could be identical in their personality. Even two dominant people would find one would be more dominant than the other. Could a Dom be a Sub? Jess was sure that was possible, just as much as a Sub could be a Dom. Always, so far, her worse fear was meeting a much older man she was attracted to, then finding out she was the dominant partner. She knew that couldn’t work.

Jess looked again at the new arrival. Whoever it was, wasn’t taking part in the current chat. That didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t there, he might be lurking, ready to pounce when someone of interest appeared. Jess knew all about lurking, she was doing it now, she did it a lot. The thing she found most interesting about this man was his chosen name. Poet18. She wondered why. What was his real name and was he really a poet? She hoped he wasn’t 18. Could it work, someone wishing to be in his late teens, meeting and connecting with someone who didn’t even wish to reach her teenage years. She concluded that it wouldn’t work at all. 

Jess knew she was no poet. She’d tried in her years at school and while she had thrived and achieved more than she could ever have imagined and gone onto university, she knew her attempts at poetry had been an abject failure. She smiled when she recalled a poem one boy in her class had recited, but thankfully not within hearing of the teacher of English.

There was a young man of Belgrave,

Who found a dead whore in a cave,

It took all his pluck,

To have a cold fuck,

But look how much money he saved!

Jess had lurked long enough. There were only four people actively chatting. Many of those group members were States side and while it was 8.30 in Bath, she knew it would be 2.30 in the morning on the east side and progressively earlier out to the western coastline. 

"Hi" Jess ventured. Initially there was nothing. Then three quick replies in succession.

"Hi Jess"

"How you doing Jess"

"Yayyy Jess"

"WUD?" One asked.

"Just got up, eating some toast for breakfast. You?"

Jessica knew her reply was a bit lame, but it was the truth, albeit boring. All three were from the US, one from Ohio while two were from Texas. Jess wondered why so many on KIK were indeed from Texas. She didn’t imagine the Lone Star State had large numbers of submissive women. Quite the opposite. They all expressed the same theme, that of heading for bed. One went, then another. Finally, Jess found herself talking to a woman from Austen, Texas. She owned a cattle ranch and had to get up early the following morning, heading off to a cattle auction. Jess didn’t sense that was the domain of a submissive woman! Then she was alone, the room was empty. 

With a sigh Jess shut her tablet. Yet again there wasn’t anyone of particular interest to chat to. She got up and took her plate and empty coffee mug over to the sink. She wondered what to do that day. A trip into the city of Bath seemed attractive but she would have to do it alone. She needed a pee; coffee went through her. She turned and had just reached the door when her tablet bleeped. It wasn’t email. That had a different sound. This was a KIK notification. Someone wanted to contact her? Jess stopped in her tracks. A pee could wait. She’d sat through enough meetings almost at bursting point so a few more minutes wasn’t going to matter. She sat down, that she felt would keep the dam of water from