Author: Wade Mondegam, Copyright © 1997 Master Wade.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached. The author may be contacted through mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.

Paul parked his Mazda 626 across the street from the club under the shade of the big Oaks that were spaced evenly along the west side of the park. He loved black cars, but one had to be a bit more aware of things like shade with them than some of the more reflective colors. Lifting his gym bag from the trunk, he jogged across the street during a lull in the busy afternoon traffic.

Entering the club, Paul was greeted by one of the owners,

Peggy Stanley, a long-time friend. Peggy was leaning against the office wall, her arms crossed under her still-perky breasts, her tanned legs crossed at the ankles. "Well, hello, stranger!", she said, smiling warmly. "I was wondering when you were going to hit the fitness trail again, but frankly, from the looks of you, I'm not sure you need it all that much." "Hello to you, gorgeous. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, you know. I need a little toning up, and it has been a while."

It had been almost a year since Paul had visited the club.

When Peggy and two of her girlfriends had first opened it, Paul had been in regular attendance, but then he and Peggy had been more than friends then, as well. Actually, they were still more than friends, and always would be, even though they were no longer involved.

Peggy watched Paul as he walked to the dressing rooms, remembering fondly the intimacy they had shared. She knew Paul

Medlin better than almost anyone, and she knew, without having to be told, that his renewed interest in working out had to do with a woman. She also knew that there was much more to Paul than most people realized, even the women who found him most attractive. As they had both realized during the time that they were involved,

Paul was a natural dominant sexually, a genuine Master of submissive women. He had been reluctant at first to admit his interests and even some of his tendencies, but Peggy had known such men before, and it was overwhelmingly obvious to her. She encouraged him to explore that side of himself, sharing her own submissive nature with him, guiding him in his efforts to find his way, to develop his own style of mastery.

It didn't happen quickly, but over the space of two or three years, Paul came to understand himself sexually and to develop an understanding of submissive women. What had thrilled him so about it was that it had seemed then and still seemed now so natural. He understood submissive women primarily because he was a dominant man. The things which excited him, which thrilled him, also thrilled and excited Peggy. As he soon came to discover, with some understandable variations, what excited him also excited almost all submissive women. To be effective as a Master, all he really had to do was to be himself. The freedom to be so honest with himself and with his sexual partners was liberating and powerful, and oddly enough it brought the same kind of feelings to those who submitted to him.

Peggy watched him as he worked out on the weight machine, remembering the many times that she had watched his muscles flexing in much different surroundings. There were times when she still ached to be with him, and she knew that all she had to do was call and he would be there for her. But alot had changed for both of them, and even though the sex would still be wonderful between them, they both had already been through the hard work of separation, and neither wanted to have to do it again.

Peggy walked over to the weight machine and knelt beside Paul as he continued to work the weights. "Who is she, Master?", she whispered.

Paul paused and turned his head to look at her. There was no point in denying it. Not with Peggy. "An associate in the firm. She's unbelievable, Peggy. I don't even know for sure that she will go out with me, but it's all there, in her eyes, in the way she moves, in the way she talks." "How long has it been for you now?" "Since I had a slave? Two years. It seems longer than that, but I guess that's all." "This girl must be very special, Master. You turned up your nose at some exciting women. I heard some of their stories, you know." "It wasn't like that, Peggy. I dated some, yes, but I didn't turn my nose up at anyone. There just hasn't been anyone who I could make the connection with, until now. Until Anna Maria." "Anna Maria." Peggy smiled. "A latino lawyer slavegirl. How old is she, Master?"

Paul smiled, anticipating Peggy's response to his answer. "She's 23, and doesn't look a minute older than that."

Peggy whistled long and slow. "Twenty-three...whew...does that make me feel old! Are you going to bring her by here, let her work out sometime? I'm dying to meet this girl, you know." "I'll see. She might enjoy it. Then again, she might not.

It's early yet. But she is going to be good, Peggy. Really good!" "She's a lucky girl." Peggy paused, reminiscing, then stood. "I hope it turns out well, Paul. You deserve it."

Paul wanted to say something to Peggy about their time together, and how much he owed her for helping him grow, but she was gone before he could speak the words. "Who is that hunk, Peggy?", one of the college girls who often worked out at the club asked her, as she turned the corner toward the office. "Paul Medlin. He's an attorney, and an old friend." "He's a doll!", the girl said, barely able to contain herself. "Yes, he is that," Peggy replied, looking back at him. "But he's taken. Again."

Later, feeling refreshed by the exercise and a long shower,

Paul stood at the window of his apartment and looked out at the

Richmond skyline and the play of the setting sun on the waters of the James. He sipped his Jack Daniels, feeling the warmth of the whiskey spread through his body. His thoughts were of Peggy and of the two since her who had served him, surrendering themselves to him completely. Each of them was special to him, and always would be. But as he thought about Anna Maria, he realized that she was different from the others. She was different in a way that had nothing to do at all with her youth, or her ethnic origins. The difference was the remarkable combination of things that made her the unique and beautiful person that she was.

Briefly, Paul pictured Anna Maria bound, her legs apart, her chest rising and falling from heavy breathing, but he quickly turned that image off. It was too much for now. He'd just have to wait and see.

Sitting at the large table he used for a desk, Paul turned the computer on and called up his word processor. Across the top of the page, he typed: Anna Maria. He then began listing his observations of her. Her tastes in clothing, her daily routine, as he knew it at this point, anything and everything he knew about her, or even suspected about her. Over the days to come the list would grow longer and more complete, but even now it was surprising how confidently he could prepare his list.

When he had exhausted his current state of knowledge, Paul read over the list of things he knew about her. He was surprised to discover that he had been able to list fifteen different dresses that he had seen Anna Maria wear, describing them with considerable detail. She was a size six, he thought. Certainly no more than a size eight. Size five panties, most likely. Probably a 34C bra, maybe a B, depending on the brand and style. He could remember at least two occasions when he was certain that she had worn a garter belt, and judging by her excellent tastes, he was confident that meant she owned at least two of them. Whether she wore pantyhose or not, he couldn't be sure, but he would watch that more closely in the days ahead.

Tomorrow he would call Dean Franklin at T.C. Williams. He and the Dean had graduated from UVA together, and he knew he could find out all he wanted to know about her years in the law school. He'd also make some inquiries about her family, if for no other reason than to spare her any embarassing questions involving family skeletons later on.

Paul looked most forward to finding out all about Anna Maria from Anna Maria, but he would have to go slowly. He didn't want their relationship to interfere with her advancement in the firm, and they would have to be careful about that. For his part, he could retire any time he liked, but Anna Maria had a bright future, and he would do nothing to rob her of that.

Just before heading for bed, Paul slid the heavy leather gear bag out of his closet and went through the items inside it. He would look forward to using them again, but once again he forced himself to avoid thinking about the use of them on Anna Maria.

He would need to call Maxie, who owned the old warehouse on

River Road, to see if he could still use it as he had so many times in the past. The brick walls and heavy beamed ceilings of this old building which had been used for a tobacco warehouse for over fifty years were responsible for a large part of its charm. But it was the brick building within a building which had served as a plantation overseer's home and later as the office for the warehouse, which offered the seclusion and privacy required and so much appreciated. If he knew Maxie, the office had gone untouched since Paul last used it, and it would take only a bit of cleaning up to make it useable once again.

Nude between the cool white sheets, and only vaguely aware of the sounds of the traffic on the street below, Paul's last thought before he fell asleep was of Anna Maria looking across the table at him during the firm meeting, her eyes full of promise, and, he thought, desire.

Continued in MRWADE.133....