The years had passed in this place and as he stood in front of a new class at the outset of a new semester he realised it had been a very long time since he’d done anything new. The curriculum he delivered was old and his version of the same basics he’d learned at school himself. Adult students from around Europe sat in front of him and it was there enthusiasm that often sparked his attention or focus but it had been a while and he was tired from the mediocre. Life had all been about living with her, but that was truly a life time ago. ‘Good morning class, I’m going to be your teacher for the next semester, can everyone write their names on the sheet of paper being passed around’ he said cheerily to tired faces. He’d studied mathematics at college with hopes to go on to lecture but as can sometimes happen in academia to those weakest in their field, he was found out and had relinquished those hopes and moved down the ranks as first a stand in lecturer and then a teacher in the high school he’d attended. He’d joined the drama society in his second year and once again played the part and tried to fit in. She’d stunned him, her ability to hold an entire rooms attention with her words, her passion, her honesty and he envied her since his own shyness had forever held him back. She shook him, provoked him, challenged him. Despite her stature she commanded him when in a room and he dutifully acquiesced in every way. In his role as teacher he’d been able to create a shield of confidence, to create a character of a genuine, nice guy that appeared private but sincere and fair to his fellow teachers. Towards the students he was mostly fair but enjoyed the feeling of control over them. He knew the curriculum, he controlled their grades and he enjoyed that immensely. Over the years he’d grown into this more and more but now ate alone at lunchtimes in the staff room and on more than one occasion had lost control and wielded his status and his administration of the rules over the foreign students he now thought each evening. He was always outwardly ‘happy to help’ but his actions belied him and he could sense he was growing more and more intolerant of the students, their questions and what he saw as a lack of respect for him. He felt angry, frustrated and lost at times given where he found himself in life and saddened he’d never had her strength, her courage to be true to himself in the real world. When they’d left college the drama group dispersed and he’d spent decades wondering what if he’d simply told her how he felt ? had she even noticed him ? As the list went around the classroom he walked to behind his desk and reached for his news paper that he’d already read many times today. As he sat, he winced and lowered himself carefully and despite staring at the paper his mind was immediately immersed in what he’d experienced. He had needed to feel something, to be dragged away from what had become normal and had begun to go to the strip club two towns away at the start of the summer. At first he’d simply sat a nursed his drink and watched the dancers take their turn on stage as his ice melted and the clientele changed but always looked the same. Dishevelled workers from the mill in various states of inebriation came and sat close to him and despite wanting to fit in here within the darkness he could not. He despised their camaraderie. He hated how they welcomed and teased each other and how they treated the dancers. Pawing and grabbing at them. They had no manners and no appreciation of the dancers efforts but he did. A rowdy group of men roared obscenities at the stage from beside him and he viewed them with contempt in the mirror behind the bar facing him. The music was loud and drowning out the details but he saw them, he knew them, their muscular bodies, their tattoos and their leering and jeering of one another. He remarked that he’d probably thought some of them and then focused on himself sitting alone and thought about her again and looked down to his drink. As he drank and began to lower his glass to the bar he felt a hand touch his elbow. “I’d like a straight scotch” was the command that came next. The image beside him at the bar left him unable to speak. It was like his mind had been froze attempting to process what he was seeing. Her red lips pressed shut in a smirk and her eyes were the things he noticed first. The words spoken had been stern and delivered with confidence. Her skin was alabaster white, glowing in the light of the club and in contrast to her jet black hair that was pulled back into a tight pony tail. It was long and reached down her back drawing his eyes down to the black leather corset with chrome buttons that presented her body perfectly. Her breasts held beautifully to his gaze. “Stop staring and order me my drink” her lips moved and he immediately raised his finger to get the bar mans attention from the other end of the bar. He felt her close the gap between them as she stepped into him and the feel of her thigh between his legs. The scent of this woman, the feel of her black leather mini skirt and her stiletto black leather boots struck him and he felt himself shrink inside back to the frightened boy he’d always been. “Good. When it arrives, bring it to me” she commanded as she pushed off him and walked away. The look over her shoulder towards him as the crowds of men parted in front of her towards him was one that made his entire body scream and panic that the barman was taking too long and that she’d be gone or that someone else would get her attention and a million and one other insecurities. He’d followed her path through the room and across to the curtained areas at the side of the stage. He knew this is where the private rooms were but had never had the confidence to adventure to this part of the club before. “I’d like my drink now” she stated as the curtain pulled back and he could see her sitting on a black leather arm chair within. Her legs were crossed and she held herself perfectly upright observing him as he entered before letting the curtain fall behind. He approached her and offered her the drink. “You may place it on the table for now” … he did so and began to towards the other chair in this small room. “No, you don’t get to sit. I want you on your knees. My boots need to be cleaned”. Somehow she’d seen him. For what he was. She’d seen past the confidence, the grandstanding, the faux self righteous way in which he held himself. This was a strip club after all and to her, she’d seen his type come and go each and every day. She knew men like this all her life. She destroyed men like this all her life. On his knees now in front of her, he leaned back and opened his mouth to speak. “Don’t utter a word slave” she barked “Lick ….. long and slow” she purred placing the toe of one of her long black boots on his shoulder “and don’t miss a single spot”. He began. His lips gently touching the toe offered to him, the feeling of the leather, the smell of the boot, her moisturiser as he licked and kissed and touched with his cheek each section of the long black leather boot. He lost himself, abandoned all control as he offered himself prostrate to her now, his eyes enjoying the sight of her breasts she had pulled above her corset, the sight of her fingers massaging one of her nipples. “And now the other” as the boot dropped and the other leg presented itself onto his other shoulder “they’re so dirty but you’re a good little slave, aren’t you” “Yes I am” he agreed nodding and closing his eyes. The searing pain in his shoulder that followed as she dug the stiletto heel into his rotator cuff dragged him back to the reality of her. Her eyes were furious at him,enraged and he felt the sting of a full lash of her hand across the cheek of his face before he saw the movement in her body. “Yes, I am miss” she roared “now lick you bitch”. Stunned, he dropped his eyes, cowered and busied himself with his duty as he felt his face pulse with pain. How long he had been here, kissing the long leather boots of this woman, he’d know idea. He was lost. Happily so and had noticed some time ago how hard he had become. “Very good. Time for your treat. Would you like that slave ?” she asked almost daring him. “Yes Miss, thank you Miss”. “Take your trousers down for me. I don’t want to see your disgusting entrails, so turn around first and present yourself for me”. His entire body began shaking. His mind racing to understand why or what was now occurring. She had no desire to see his sex ? but yet she wanted him to undress from the waist and turn to him. As he kneeled and dropped his head to the ground he expected to hear her stand or the feel of a paddle or her hand given how the evening had gone. With no warning he felt searing pain shoot through his entire body as the heel from her stiletto entered him from behind. He gasped as his eyes opened and he felt the side of his face against the carpet in this room, damp from other visitors and her voice from behind ‘take it all slave, you’ve earned it’ As she began to circle her heel probing deep within him she reached for her drink, “my name is Nadine but you will only ever call me Miss” she said, before raising her glass. It was this name, ‘Nadine’ with a love heart dotting the i that had leapt from the page when it had been returned to him. He stopped breathing as he desperately scanned the room, hoping for some sort of coincidence. At the back of the class, behind all the other students completely unaware of this unfolding nightmare, she sat. Her long longs stretched out from behind the side of the desk, her hair pulled back in playful pigtails and she now wore gym gear. Her delight was clear as she blew him a kiss and winked. This world, his world, this place where he was the teacher and they were his student had changed utterly in that playful twisting on a never ending universe. Ironically story came from the following RATM Lyrics “The teacher stands in front of the class, But the lesson plan he can’t recall, The students eye don’t perceive the lies bouncing off every f*cking wall …” Nobody is in control of anything or anyone.