In Heat - Jenlisa

Chapter 63 - Boot

As Lisa has yet to learn how to stage a room for a BDSM-related discussion, she drags her desk into the center of the floor, creating a makeshift meeting table with rickety chairs at either end. Much as Lisa hates the thought of direct eye contact, this conversation will best be held face-to-face.

She briefly considers pulling out some refreshments—a yogurt drink for Lisa, cold tea for Jennie—then discards the thought. Offering drinks in a crop top will just serve to make Lisa feel like a desperately lost Hooters waitress.

Once the room is set and Lisa has run out of excuses to delay the inevitable, she steels herself and returns to the hall.

Jennie doesn't appear to have moved an inch.

"Are you ready for me?" she asks.

No, Lisa thinks. "Yes," she answers aloud, voice surprisingly composed.

Jennie nods. "Invite me inside."

Lisa tries not to fidget as she steps aside. "Please, come in."

Jennie waltzes past her, unbothered as ever, even as she raises an eyebrow at Lisa's pseudo-conference table. Her face is unreadable.

"Invite me to sit," Jennie orders.

Lisa releases a shaky breath. "Please sit, Jennie."

Jennie takes her seat, unfolding with a grace Lisa could never hope to emulate. Though they both wear skirts, Jennie looks a lot more business professional rather than in danger of being charged with soliciting, which is the look Lisa's pretty sure she's serving.

Jennie watches her claim the other seat, eyes lingering on Lisa's bare thighs in the moment before they sink out of sight.

"You said you created a list," she speaks up.

Lisa startles, but manages to steady herself.

"Yes," she agrees. "I did."

Jennie doesn't react. "May I see it?"

"No," Lisa replies, relishing in the thrill of the look of genuine surprise that flits across Jennie's face. "First, I'd like to review the kinks you gave me. The ones from your tablet, I mean."

Jennie nods. "A list that is by no means exhaustive," she comments, accepting the handwritten list and ballpoint pen Lisa slides to her. The click of her pen might as well be the cocking of a gun. "Where shall we begin?"

"At the top," Lisa states, congratulating herself on behaving professionally in spite of the warmth curling in her stomach. "Impact play. I have questions."

"Please." Jennie invites her to continue.

Lisa straightens up, schooling her expression.

"Do you have experience with the more, um, advanced versions? Have you..." She struggles to find the right words.

Jennie puts her out of her misery. "Have I practiced?" she asks, voice lilting with amusement.

Lisa refuses to acknowledge the heat in her cheeks. "Yes. It can be dangerous, can't it?" she poses.

"All kink involves some level of risk," Jennie responds, "But I would ensure I had adequate skill before attempting to use any item on your body."

Lisa swallows. "How would you practice?"

Jennie considers her with a sharp look that has Lisa unconsciously straightening in her seat.

"I would practice on a pillow to ensure my aim is up to par," Jennie answers, cocking her head. "Spot accuracy is an essential aspect of impact play. Then, once I have grown proficient in wielding the apparatus, I would test it on myself to understand its pain application."