You arrive fifteen minutes early.

Not because you’re overeager—though your pulse says otherwise—but because arriving early gives you the advantage. With anonymous dates, especially the dominant-submissive kind, control in the beginning matters. You need time to observe. Time to evaluate. Time to choose where to sit.

You push the café door open, scanning quickly.

And your breath stutters—

Frederick Alexander.

What a coincidence?

Sitting by the window. Calm as ever, nursing a half-finished coffee while scrolling his phone. The same posture you remember from two years working under him: straight, steady, unshakeable.

Stay calm... That doesn't mean he is the guy from the app, right?

You’re shocked, of course, simply because—of all places—your ex-boss, the one who shaped your early career (and your stress tolerance), happens to be in the one café where you’re about to meet a stranger who knows all your submissive secrets.

He looks up. Recognition softens his expression.

“Oh,” he says, smiling. “Hey. Small world.”

Your heart lurches, but you manage a polite smile. “Hi, Mr— I mean, Frederick. Wow. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Likewise,” he chuckles softly. “You’re early. You have a meeting?”

“Sort of,” you reply quickly. “Just grabbing a drink with… a friend.”

He nods, warm as always. “Good to see you. Glad you’re doing well.”

A few harmless pleasantries pass—nothing deep, nothing strange. Just the same Frederick you remember: charismatic without trying, professional without being cold, and always, always composed.

Then he gestures lightly toward the café interior. “Well, I should let you take your seat. Enjoy your… meeting.”

You excuse yourself and slip into a table in the far corner—far enough to avoid awkwardness, close enough to observe the whole room.

When you finally sit, you exhale. Hard.

Then you open the app.

Your fingers move quickly.

You: Hey, I’m on my way. Around 10 minutes. Where are you sitting?

A lie. On purpose.

You’re already here. Already watching. Already scanning each face one by one.

You want to see him before he sees you.

The message sends. For a moment, there’s silence.

Then your phone buzzes.

Dominant.Dusk: Already inside. Take your time.

Your pulse jumps.

You look around again, slower this time—but discreet. No stares. No lingering gazes. No one giving off that quiet, controlled energy he always has in chat.

Just ordinary customers. And Frederick by the window, focused on his own phone, oblivious to your internal spiral.

Another message arrives.

Dominant.Dusk: Here’s a hint.

A photo. Taken from someone sitting inside the café.

A POV shot. Tables. Warm lights. A subtle angle you swear you passed by when you walked in.

Your heartbeat quickens—not with panic, but with the thrill you secretly live for on this app.

He’s here. He’s already watching. He spotted you when you came in.

You study the photo. Try to match the distance. The wall texture. The table shape.

Left side? Back area? Near the pillar?

You scan the room again. Methodical. Neutral. And still—no suspicious eyes. No one staring. Not even for a moment.

Your gaze passes Frederick for half a second— He’s just sipping his drink, checking emails or messages or whatever managers check on weekends.

He’s not part of this. Just a weird coincidence in a very inconvenient moment.

Your phone buzzes again.

Dominant.Dusk: Don’t rush. Take your time.

God... It won't be him right?