NOTE FROM RIOTTORI: THIS SHOULD TIE UP A FEW OF THOSE LOOSE ENDS AND ANSWER SOME OF YOUR QUESTIONS. ENJOY...

Alice:

I have bought a new suit for the meeting. I want to look like I mean business. It makes me look taller and I notice that it changes the way I walk. I stride in this suit, I strut in it. It was way more than I can afford but it is well worth it.

I pin an imitation Lalique brooch to the lapel. It's curved in the shape of a butterfly, a graduation present I bought for myself. (My mom had got me a bottle of vodka.) I saw the brooch and had to have it – it was a symbol of me, a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, shrugging off her old life in preparation for the new. I thought I would have that with Christian, but I had been wrong.

I arrived at Escala on Monday evening after work. I was wearing the coat that he had brought in for me, noticed with a smile that it had been dry cleaned. I couldn't wait for him to look after me like that all the time.

I tried to suppress the escalating nerves as I rode up in the elevator. He said he had something to show me. I couldn't think what it could be. I looked in the mirror, perfected my Mrs Grey face and turned to enter my new life.

He greeted me at the elevator, held his hand out for my coat which I shrugged off, aware off his eyes on my body as I did this.

He led me through to his living room and offered me a drink. He laughed at my choice – scotch on the rocks – but brought it to me, the ice tinkling against the side of the glass.

I told him it was what my daddy drinks, raised the glass to his Hendricks, then to my mouth and sipped, my eyes never leaving his.

I asked him, softly, what it was that he wanted to show me. He asked if I could wait until after dinner. Unblinking, I replied that I couldn't. He got up, reached for my hand and led me down a corridor. I held my breath when we got to the end, wondering what we were going to do. Whatever it was, I was willing.

He unlocked the door on the right and pushed the door open.

He waited in the doorway, quietly, for my reaction. It wasn't the room itself that excited me, it was what showing me its contents meant. He was confiding in me, he had chosen me to share his secret with. How I acted now was paramount to determining our path and my future with this man. I walked over to the bed, ran my hand along the side of it, reached up to gently stroke the harness, trailed my fingers across the red of the wall.

When I felt I had spent long enough inside for him to always imagine me in here, that I had made my mark, I approached him. I looked up at him a little shyly, my eyes full of questions.

"What would you like to do to me in here?" He smiled down at me, his eyes reassuring.

"Come. Let's eat and we'll discuss it. I promise I won't hurt you. The Red Room isn't about pain."

I nodded and took his hand as he led me back down the corridor, away from the room that held my future and my power.

Over dinner, I told him that I would have to consider his proposal. He said he understood, told me that I should google anything I didn't know and that I could ask him questions – discreetly of course – about anything I needed to be explained.

I cut the night short – told him I was tired and a little overwhelmed; I always wanted to be the one to leave, make him want me even more. His expression told me that he wasn't sure whether I'd say yes or not. I would torture him for a little while longer.

At home, I stayed up all night, googling the word Submissive, reading anything I could on the subject and I began perfecting a new character to become. Sub Alice.

I kept him guessing the entire week. He called me into his office on Tuesday to ask if I had any questions. I told him I didn't yet, that I had started with my research but there was still so much more to do.

He handed me a copy of 'our' contract, told me to look over it which I did at home that night. It consisted of 'hard' and 'soft' limits which all looked rather self-explanatory. He wanted me to be his Sub for a month but he could extend the period if so agreed by both of us. He would dictate what I wore, what I ate, what time I went to bed. He would have control of me totally – at work, at home, with him in The Red Room. I was willing, more than willing. But I didn't want to reveal that to him just yet. A few more days of torture would do it, I told myself.

But I didn't fucking get those days, did I? His fucking wife must have found out and spoiled everything. One day, he was feeding me oysters in a fancy restaurant, begging me to sign the contract, and two days later he terminated my work contract and paid me off - a rather paltry amount for my silence.

Well, she would pay for ripping my carefully planned future from me, robbing me of my happiness. Today was Mrs Grey's judgment day.