Jon had his own intuitions, too. It was a fine line a man had to walk these days, especially a man of his interests and proclivities. Be too casual, aloof and laid-back and you would miss out on all the sweet opportunities on offer... be too forward, too presumptive, and you'd get slapped across the face, slapped with a sexual harassment suit, slapped with a restraining order. You had to be able to accurately judge when a woman was interested, or when she was open to your interest... and even then, whether the mention of whips and chains would send her scurrying for the hills, or falling to her knees. Never easy, tricksy creatures that they were. But Jon fancied himself to possess a better instinct than most for such things.<br/><br/>He imagined himself a human polygraph, his fingertips sensing the infinitesimal change in Hannah's galvanic skin response as her pores opened and minute quantities of sweat moved through them. Her reaction to the leather straps she toyed with, to the way he held her arm, the ever-so-slight emphasis on 'discomfort' from those sculpted lips... could it be? A hint of guarded, cautious interest? Well now.<br/><br/>Jon laid her arm down, his chin dimpling as he pursed his mouth thoughtfully.”Is that right? Maybe we'll find out,” he grinned playfully, though the game in his eyes was more intense and dangerous. Settling on a wheeled stool, he kicked against the floor and sent himself skimming down to the bottom of the dentists chair the lovely actress reclined on. He opened one of the leather bindings and held it around her ankle, glancing up at her with a raised eyebrow. “Just in case, perhaps I should strap you down... don't want you writhing all over the place, hm?”