The erratic, quickening pounding of her heart echoed in Megan's ears. She was torn and her mind screamed at her to run, to get the hell out while she still could. She was unaware of how ragged her breathing had become and how Isla could probably hear it even over the murmured noise of those in the audience. She held her body rigid and unbending to try to still the shivers that sought to run rampant through her. Given that she had been reduced to this state in mere minutes by a woman she did not really know, the delusion of even that much control bordered on laughable. Still, she was a creature of habit and they certainly did die hard. Even in the face of true, complete submission she had been trained to exude control.<br/><br/>A whimper, so small and soft that she hoped the noise from the crowd swallowed it, escaped when Isla's hand left it's place between her legs. Immediately Megan's thighs squeezed together to smother the heat that the other woman's touch had caused. It was no use though. That ember had become an inferno and all that Megan could do was stumble behind as she was led. The open door loomed before her and to her over active imagination it seemed like a gaping chasm from which she would never escape. Even with that image in her mind, she willingly stepped through with no hesitation. The only reaction was to squeeze Isla's hand more tightly when the loud snap of the prod and the resultant cry startled her.<br/><br/>She was strangely glad to be away from the main show. Megan's pretty eyes, ringed in black liner and smokey shadow, scanned around the room. The lawyer looked... Underwhelmed. Her mind had built up the room she was walking into up to be this den of debauchery with all manner of things lining the wall. She was oblivious to the hooks and the large cabinet. Blissful ignorance at all the was in store was replaced by a resurgent anxiety When the door clicks shut behind her. That one little noise made all of the things she feared and hoped for that much more real.<br/><br/>She was instructed to sit and Megan mutely stated between the love seat and the bed. She suddenly felt lost without specific direction. What the hell was Isla doing to her? She was so off balance that she could not even decide where to sit?! With a little huff, she made the decision to sit on the love seat. They were just here for a private conversation and the bed might give the wrong impression. With cautious, measured steps Megan moved the the seat. With each quaking step, she cursed the existence of high heeled shoes and sighed in relief when she dropped into the seat. One long, smooth leg crossed over the other and her hands settled in her lap, outwardly, to the casual observer, she was the picture of calm but to someone versed in reading people the signs were there.<br/><br/>Megan's hands gripped one another tightly and her her legs were tensed. Her chest heaved and her pink-glossed lips trembled. Her eyes darted around the room as if she expected an ambush. The veneer of calm and confidence was showing cracks now under the strain of the situation. One trembling hand raised to push her glasses up and continued on to run through her silken hair. Megan's eyes stopped on Isla's backside. The leather really showcased it well and she stared so intently that she could not tear her gaze away when the punk girl turned. With the realization that she was obviously caught, she blushed and fidgeted adorably. Never had she needed a drink more and luckily Isla was bringing one.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>