A very, very bad romance.
The door opened ever so slightly and silently. I pressed the left half of my face against the crack and here he was, open mouthed and on his knees. Head, arched back to reveal sweat glistening against the dark stubble gracing his jawline. The moister ran down his heaving chest to his navel. A chill ran down my spine. I smoothed my pencil skirt and threw back my shoulders. The door was now wide open and I stepped into the room right foot first. My patent, black, high heels echoing and cutting the hard wood floor. I stopped with his knees at my feet, cuffed at the hand behind his back. Cold blue eyes staring hard into mine.
"You look at the floor unless I say otherwise." I grabbed a handful of sweat drenched hair, forcing his head down.
His veins were pulsing. With anger? With fear? I didn't care.
"Now what do you say?" I twisted the damp clump until he writhed at my horror.
"Yes. Mistress." He replied weakly between gasps.
"Good." I said, easing my hand from his hair. "On your feet."