In the story, though, it was always red wine and there was a powerful undercurrent of tension: she stared at the glass, certain she was going to spill...it and ruin the dress. It was something her Master had conditioned into her by having her spill the wine on herself again and again. He had her repeat the act hundreds of times at an identical table in his basement. In the story, it worked. She would often break out in a sweat or tremble there in the restaurant, afraid she was going to lose. No chance. I mean really. You love your wife. Which is why, you always get a bit of blackmail over every woman you sleep with. After all, a good working relationship is hard, and you can't have some little homewrecking slut ruining your marriage. Of course it rarely comes to that. A bit of charm, a bit of honesty and a even a hit of a threat and most women accept their non-exclusive place in your life. You really hope Stephanie is in the majority. After all, you 'love' her."I love you too,. Simply a lesson needed to betaught." Well I suppose that's the best kind of lesson to teach. A fatal one. Anunsurvivable one," I express my cynicism."The unpredictable nature of humanity. It was not something anticipated.But as you know it wasn't fatal. Like I stated when I first arrived. Itwas all a bit unfortunate this sequence of events," he replies."Well not fatal this time," I countered. "But maybe next. You're rightabout one thing. You don't know humanity. But I do. And I may not. We then swapped private numbers and began texting which culminated in her asking what I was doing that evening. I should pick her up after work she suggested. Absolutely, I said.I parked outside her work and waited for her to arrive, thoughts running round my mind about whether this girl was as hot as I'd recalled. I got my answer moments later when she appeared from her office in a short blue dress, patterned tights and high heels. She opened my car door and lowered herself in, he short dress.