The waning moon hid behind the old building. It was one of those buildings that got reformed about a thousand times. I remember looking at a couple of those when I was apartment hunting.

An old lady spoke to Cris as we entered. She told them about her grandchildren and husband. She seemed pretty nice, but I don't normally start conversations with my neighbors like that.

Getting to the 4th floor with no elevators. There was a welcome mat under Cris' door. Almost every door had a gate before it, but theirs didn't.

The first thing I noticed was the sweet smell as Cris opened the door. The same smell they had. There was an incense holder on the coffee table in front of the couch. Behind the couch formed a narrow corridor, leading to a small table near the window. From the door, you could see the kitchen right across.

"Welcome to my place." Cris said, "Don't mind the mess. I wasn't expecting visitors."

Not one thing was out of place. Except for maybe some pieces of paper on top of the table, but I only noticed them because they made me look for messes.

"Tea or coffee?" They asked.

"Coffee." I said, standing by the door as they closed it.

"Are you going to stand there or..." they pointed to the couch. I sat down.

It was a black leather couch. Cris went to the kitchen. I sat alone, feeling the weight of the silence. Broken occasionally by a question coming from them and noises from the kitchen.

They didn't have any plants, but there were paintings of flowers on the walls. I wondered if they were Cris' paintings until I saw the one beside the window.

It was an abstract painting, but I felt like I could see myself in it. As I kept looking, it started to take the form of a girl in a black outfit being looked down upon, or maybe it was a woman looking down on something, stepping on it.

"Here's your coffee." Cris brought me back to reality.

They brought 2 small cups, then cream, cinnamon and sugar cubes. And sat beside me, their legs bouncing up and down.

"So..." I took the courage to break the silence. "Are these your paintings?" I asked, pointing at all of them but lingering on the one I got lost into.

"Oh no! These were a gift from a friend." They responded, "Except for that one, actually." They pointed to the one I lingered.

"Really!" I hoped that was the case. "That was the one I liked the most..." I claimed, correcting myself when I noticed them looking down. "I mean, it's the one that seems more interesting."

"Thank you."

"What does it mean?" 

"Looking at it right now... I have no idea." I almost laughed at their response, but I held it in, waiting for the conclusion. "I called it 'superiority' at the time. The feeling of looking down on someone. But it's really just brush strokes. I kept it cause I like the colors"

"It's not just brush strokes. I can see it." I would mention the girl laying on her back, but she seemed obscene for some reason, so I mentioned, "There's a woman, a huge woman, about to step on something."

"Well, I'm glad then." They said, laughing over their rosy cheeks.

The clock pointed at 10PM. I finished my coffee and was ready to leave.

"Where's the restroom?" I asked. I wanted to free myself before reaching the train.

"Right there." They pointed to a door and grabbed the cups to take to the kitchen.

It was a cozy little bathroom. A flower painting sat on top of the toilet and a purple trash beside it, but my eyes were drawn to the laundry basket in the corner.

It looked like a shiny black swimsuit. The same as the girl was wearing in the video. My hands went to my thighs. On the floor beside it, a pair of high boots and cat ears.

The red ropes flooded my mind. Building up a heat in my chest as I squeezed my legs. The ropes brought her up to the ceiling. She was unable move past them, like an inescapable hug.

"You weren't supposed to see that..." Cris said.

Suddenly, I was back in the bathroom again. Cris was in the doorway. If they could mask their embarrassment before, now the mask had fallen, their face was as red as the ropes that bound the girl.

"I'm sorry." I said.

"Well, you probably think I'm a weirdo now."

"No!" I yelped. Holding the outfit, putting together that it was latex right about when I dropped it. "I just have a lot of questions, questions that I won't ask."

Rushing out of the bathroom. I Picked up their coat, as if it were mine, and my phone.

"I'm not a prostitute, if that's what you're thinking." Cris said.

That was far from what I had in mind.

"It's just what I wear to this club I go to. And I sell a service there... I'm making it sound way worse, right?" They paused, picking up the latex outfit off the floor.

'Cris, wearing that outfit...' My eyes raced through their body, imagining their skin wrapped around by ropes.

"I am dom, domme, dominatrix." Cris continued, putting a hand on their face. "Whatever you wanna call it."

I stood there in awe while they fumbled through words. With many questions racing through my head, holding them back until I couldn't handle anymore.

"Have you ever been tied up?" I spurted out.

"Oh god..." Cris exclaimed. "No, I haven't, but I've tied a few people." They sat down on the couch.

"How is it?"

"I don't know how to explain, it's just... You'd have to experience it. It's pretty relaxing."

"You can do it... to me?" I asked, absent-mindedly.

"Yeah." They looked down. "Y-You'd just need to go to Black Belt. that's the club I dom at. We can have a scene there."

"I'll think about." I snapped out of it, opening the door. "Thank you for the coffee."

"I can accompany you to the stop, if you want." Cris said.

"No... I'm good."

As soon as the door closed, I put my back to it. 'A scene?' The heat that had built up in my chest went up to my face as I sank my nails into my tights, biting my tongue. 'Can I do that?'