I was on my way to see Sarah, a former tall pageant beauty queen. She lived halfway to a presentation I had that day, and I had decided to fit her into my schedule. Finding parking in the Valley is always a bitch, but I hadn’t known that Tuesday was a street-sweeping day in this part of Encino. It took me ten minutes to find a space where I could park without risking a ticket or towing, and as I made my way to her apartment, walking down streets purple with fallen jacaranda leaves, I was running late.

I had told her to start at five til 8, and it was 8:10 now. I had instructed her to be naked, and to be on her knees, in front of her floor mirror, caressing herself, watching her hands, imagining them to be my hands. I had told her to touch her cheeks, her lips, her neck, her shoulders, the sides of her breasts... I had told her to notice the way it made her nipples react, the way her pussy reacted to her touch. Her attention was to be in those areas. But she was not to touch those areas.

I wanted to walk quickly, but I was dressed for my presentation, with my black Italian suit, white shirt and maroon tie. I couldn't get all sweaty. More importantly, I could not be out of breath when I entered. I could not let on that I cared about being late. That wouldn't do.

When I reached her place, one of those 'dingbat' style apartment buildings that filled the valley, I took the stairs slowly, knowing that she would be listening for my steps. My patent leather shoes were loud on the pebble wash steps. Her apartment was right at the top of the stairs, and her door was unlocked, as I had instructed. I stepped in, closing the door quietly behind me.

She was on her knees, just as I had instructed. Her naked back was to me, and her hands were moving across the top of her breasts. I could hear the arousal in her breaths. I stood close enough to her that I could smell the musk of her. I stood and watched her through the mirror.

Her body was not in the shape it had been twenty years earlier, when she had won the Miss Tall International Title, but it would feel good beneath my fingers. I hadn't had a willing submissive to play with in weeks.

I glanced around the apartment, looking for somewhere to rest my suit jacket. Her bed was unmade. Her end table was overflowing with books, a vibrator resting on its base, half-empty glasses, and wadded-up tissues. Clothes were on the floor. I could see the sink filled with dishes in the kitchen.

I took another look at Sarah there, naked on her knees, on a carpet that had clearly not been vacuumed in weeks.

I opened the door, closed it softly behind me, and walked back down those pebble wash steps, back through the jacaranda blossoms, and drove to my presentation.