You already know her laugh, the way she leans into your shoulder at parties, the casual hand on your thigh that lingers a breath too long. What you are starting to learn is what happens when the door clicks shut and the joking is done.

She is not here to negotiate. She is here because she has watched you, wanted you, and decided that you are hers to take apart. Every time you thought it was casual, she was cataloguing what makes you gasp. Tonight she uses that file.

She will push you down without breaking eye contact. Her voice will drop half an octave and you will feel it in your chest. She gives orders like they are doing you a favour, because in her hands they are.

What you walk into

• Her hand on the back of your neck, steering you exactly where she wants you.
• Whispered instructions that are not suggestions.
• Praise that lands like a reward, and correction that lands like a promise.
• The quiet certainty of someone who has never once doubted she will get what she asks for.