"You're wearing one, aren't you?"

I felt something close to panic rush through me, and turned in my seat to find a woman sitting at the stool next to mine. She had shoulder-length brown hair, and was wearing a sleeveless red dress that ran to just above her knees. In the somewhat shadowy lighting of the pub, I caught a glimpse of black stockinged legs. Her nails were painted a deep red that matched her dress. I met her eyes with an expression that must have betrayed all of my panic; because as I did, she put her hand to her mouth and laughed, apologizing.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Ha-ha! I don't know what I'm saying. I mean, I don't even know you!"

There were a lot of people sitting at the tables spread throughout the cavernous beer garden, but only a few of us up here at the bar. The bartender, a nice-looking blonde-haired girl of about 30, was all the way at the other end, and no one seemed to have noticed my interaction with this mysterious stranger. But once I recovered from my surprise, I relaxed a little. "That's okay", I told her. "Have you had a few?" It was hard to tell.

The woman was still giggling at (I think) her own brazenness, and shook her head while she raised a mostly full glass of draught beer. "Not at all. I just...noticed you over at that table, and, well..."

I followed the general direction of her gesture. It was starting to make a little sense now. She'd indicated a table in the back where about twenty people were sitting around. I'd never been to a BDSM meet-up before. I'd sat down, made some small talk, felt a little awkward, and then wandered away. I'd realized that I didn't quite feel up to socializing; and besides, the Mets were playing. Up on the TV, their leadoff hitter was getting himself set in the batter's box.

"Ah", I said, nodding. Still, how did she...? I glanced down at my black jeans to reassure myself that no one could possibly tell. But I was still confused. "I didn't see you there, though", I said, still avoiding the question with which she'd started our interaction. "I think I would have noticed."

She smiled at that. "I was hiding at that other table", she said, pointing. "Waiting and watching like a creeper. Lost my nerve. But it didn't seem like you really knew anyone in the group. You were brave to go over there!"

"Oh, it was nothing really."

"But then I saw you walk over here."

I nodded, taking a sip of my Blue Moon- mostly just to give myself a second to muster the genuine courage that I suddenly felt I needed. "I guess I was just feeling a little out-of-place", I shrugged. "You're right- just about everyone over there seemed to know each other." I met her eyes- large and brown with a hint of green (or so the atmosphere of the shadows in the bar made it seem)- and forged ahead with what I needed to ask. "Ah- you can't really tell, can you...?"

"Tell?" She looked at me blankly.

"Well, you know- you asked me if I was wearing one? You can't, like...see it, right? Through my...jeans?"

Her eyes opened wide, and she smiled with what seemed like a mixture of amusement and awe, cupping her hands over her mouth again as she laughed. She just shook her head for a few seconds. She looked like she'd found a very cute but very exotic animal out in the wild. "Oh my god. You really are?"

My leg started to tremble a little, though I couldn't really say why. I felt myself blush, and took another sip of Blue Moon to try to mask it. "I guess there's no point in trying to deny it now", I chuckled.

She laughed again, at first loudly enough that a few people down the bar glanced our way, but then she got herself under control. "Nope. No point", she said, meeting my eyes. "I really don't know what came over me. And no, don't worry, I can't see..."- she glanced downwards briefly, towards my legs- "...your, uh, little secret." Now she was looking somewhere past my glass of beer. Her voice sounded far away. "I just...I don't know, I saw you walking away from that table, I knew the meet-up was for BDSM, and I guess I put two-and-two together. Something told me...that guy's locked." This last word was delivered with more emphasis but also more quietly than the rest- she seemed to have moved past amusement, to some other emotion that I couldn't quite read. More like fascination.

"Well", I said, not making eye contact and staring at her beer perhaps in much the same way she was staring at mine, "it was a good guess. What brought you to the meet-up?"

"Hmm." She seemed to smile to herself. "That's for me to know."

"And for me to find out?"

She shrugged, still smiling. "Maybe."

"You're very mysterious. Can I at least know your name?"

She extended a hand. "Lily."

"Chris, nice to meet you."

After we shook hands, she put her feet on the floor and slid her stool a little closer to mine. Then she sat back down. "Don't worry", she said, "I'm not trying to hit on you. I just...well, I know I can't see it."

I looked around. The bar wasn't crowded, but there were still people around. "Yeah, I don't quite feel like getting arrested tonight."

"You would be getting handcuffed", she pointed out.

"That's true. But not in the context I'd prefer."

She laughed, and touched my shoulder briefly. "I know I can't see it, but could I maybe...feel it? Just for a sec?" She put her hand to her face again to stifle a peal of laughter. "God, I'm such a perv."

I looked around again. No one seemed to be paying attention to us, but I suddenly felt very conspicuous. Partly perhaps because ever since Lily had moved her stool closer to mine, I'd been pressing against the cage harder than I had been all night. I took a deep breath and, in hopes of collecting myself, I glanced up at something completely non-sexual- the baseball game- except that they were between innings, and a commercial was showing a joyful nuclear family piling into a new car. Luckily, that was sufficiently deflating, for the moment. I glanced back at Lily without quite making eye contact. I thought that if I did, I might lose it again. "Sure", I said.

A few seconds later, while I stared at my half-drunk Blue Moon, I felt a red-nailed finger tap me on the front of my jeans- once, twice- and it produced a sound that (I hoped) only she and I could hear. But the hardness of the plastic was enough to convince her, and she leaned forward over the bar, stifling a sudden fit of giggles. Meanwhile, I did my best to compose myself and not give in to the sudden insane arousal I was experiencing, which- if I had abandoned my senses- could have led to my trying to hump the bar. Finally, she met my eyes with the same mixture of amusement and wonderment that I'd noticed before. "Oh my God", she said, smiling. "I love that. That's so great. That's amazing."

Just then, the bartender wandered past, noticed our drinks were still mostly filled, and didn't intrude.

I laughed a little at her reaction, and allowed myself to move my own stool a little closer. "You act like you've just seen some rare animal."

"Well, I've never actually seen one of you boys out in the wild before. I mean...locked up and all."

"I'm glad you like it", I said. "I think."

"So..." She seemed to have gotten control of herself, and now she was quiet again, fixing me with an expression that was still amused, but also somewhat serious. "So where's the key?"

"At my apartment. Not too far away. Keys, that is."

"Oh. More than one?"

"Well yeah, I have a spare. For emergencies, that sort of thing."

She nodded. "That makes sense. It's a valuable thing you're keeping locked up." This last line was delivered with a smile, and I felt myself press helplessly against the cage again. Helpless in two senses, that is; in one sense that I wasn't getting out of there anytime soon without one of the keys, but in the other that I'd had no chance, in that moment, of not trying to get hard. Her words had been like a direct message straight to my penis. My four limbs felt loose, relaxed, and I was a little dizzy- none of which, I don't think, had anything to do with the beer.

"I suppose."

"So you just...if you don't mind my asking, do you have someone who, like, holds on to the keys, or...?"

"Ah, no, no...not at the moment", I said, keeping my voice low. "Sometimes I just put the cage on for a little while to, you know..."- I felt myself blushing again- "...to tease myself."

"How long is a little while?"

"Oh, not too long usually. I'd say the longest I've ever gone- with the cage, anyway- has been about a week."

Her eyes widened and the awe came back to her face. But at the same time, the information seemed to give her pleasure. "A week? I can't even go for...ahem." She fixed me with a mock-stern expression. "That's privileged information."

I laughed. "Wait, so you get to know how long I go, but I don't get to know how long you...?"

She stuck out her tongue. "That's right, mister. That's not the kind of thing a lady talks about."

"What a raw deal." I shook my head, still smiling, and tried not to stare at the movement of her black stockings as she crossed her legs. I'd gotten a glimpse, however, and suddenly I was once again trying very hard to break out of my tiny prison. Could she tell? I had the feeling that she could, and that she liked it (both that I was trying to escape and that I couldn't, that is), but maybe it was just wishful thinking.

We settled into what felt to me like a comfortable silence. After a few moments, I realized that she was looking up at the TV. The game was back. "So this is baseball", she said, sounding like someone who'd just arrived on Mars and discovered the detritus of an incomprehensible game.

I confirmed her statement. "This is baseball."

"Who's playing?"

"Well, it's the Mets against the Braves." My own voice sounded strange to me. There was an emotional and almost physical toll to bringing myself out of the reverie that I'd suddenly found myself in, to focusing on the real world again. "The Mets have had a pretty good season, but they have to win either tonight or tomorrow. Otherwise they miss the playoffs, and the Braves get in. I like the Mets."

She nodded. "So they're one game away from the playoffs?"

"Mm-hmm."

She moved a little closer to me, touching my shoulder again. It felt like my arm was fighting off a powerful electric current, and suddenly I could barely sit still.

"But if they don't win one of these last two games", she began, a little quieter than before, "It would be like...well, it would be like they'd gotten so close to what they wanted, and then at the last moment it was taken away from them? By the...Bears?"

"The Braves, Lily. The Bears play football. But yes, I think that would be a fair description of their...predicament."

"That sounds like it would be really frustrating", she suggested. "Not just for them, but for you."

"I think it would be. I hope it doesn't happen."

She repurposed her hand towards the task of picking up her drink, and smiled as she shrugged; as if it were a matter of total indifference to her. Which I suppose it was. "I guess we'll see."

On TV, the Mets' shortstop hit a single, and cruised into first base. "Do you remember bases?" she asked, again looking up at the TV.

"Bases...uh, what do you mean?"

"You know, when you were a teenager. Did you and your guy friends talk about bases? Like, sexual bases?"

"Ohhhhh, right. Yeah. I vaguely remember that whole concept."

"First base was..."

"I think first base was...kissing."

"Mmm." She smiled at the thought, and I casually (I hoped) pressed down hard on the edge of the bar, using all my strength. All this pent-up energy had to go somewhere. I'd managed briefly to relax inside the cage for a few moments, but I hadn't had enough time to recover. Talking about this was getting increasingly frustrating. A million thoughts were racing through my head.

"Second base was..."

I shifted in my seat, exhaled, and picked up my glass, noticing that my hand was trembling. I put the glass back down without drinking from it, not wanting to take the chance of spilling it. "Second base was...well, from a male perspective..."

She made a gesture. "Naturally."

"Second base was...well...touching a girl's breasts."

Her eyes sparkled and she touched my hand with hers. "How thrilling!" The cage suddenly felt very small.

"Indeed." I did my best to sound casual, though I wasn't sure it was working in the slightest. I'd have had to be a master thespian, which I wasn't. "Third was...again, from a male perspective, a...blowjob. I don't remember much talk of going down on a girl in the world of adolescent boys, but I guess that might have counted. I'm not sure. And home base..."

She interrupted me, fixing me with a genuinely curious look. "Do you think it should have counted?"

"What? Oh, you mean..."

She watched me, smiling.

"Well, uh...yeah, I do, actually. I mean, it's not exactly the same thing, but I think...I think there's a different kind of pleasure to be found in..." I paused a long time. "Serving."

She merely continued to watch me, the smile on her face growing. "What a sweet boy", she said, as if to herself.

I was worried I was about to break the cage from inside. I cleared my throat and tried to compose myself, but I couldn't stop my legs from shaking, and my voice came out more high-pitched than usual. I coughed, cleared my throat again. "And then home base is...well...home is home."

"Self-explanatory", she agreed. "So, just going by the male perspective on sexual bases, excluding for a moment your enlightened twenty-first century views on serving, you couldn't even reach third base or home right now, could you?"

A million conflicing emotions ran through me again in the course of a few seconds. "Well, I...I'm physically capable. I would just need...my keys."

"Back at your apartment", she said, meeting my eyes.

"Yes", I answered, trying to breathe. "Back at my apartment."

"Well", she said, smiling, "I was just speaking hypothetically, anyway. Don't worry. I don't want to test your resolve." She couldn't quite get through that with a straight face, however, and she must have seen the look of disappointment that suddenly came across mine, because she started to laugh again. She reached over and brushed my hair back from my head.

Grinning and leaning closer to me, she asked, "What about seeing a girl naked? Or maybe in some cute lingerie or something?"

"That I'm capable of even without the keys", I promised, unable to keep a note of hopefulness out of my voice.

She giggled harder. "No silly, what base is it?"

I considered. "I...don't think it was a base. But now that you mention it, maybe it should've been."

On TV, the Mets got another hit, and the player on first went into an all-out sprint, rounding second and within a few seconds diving into the dirt for third.

She shook her head. "Now see, look how fast these guys are rounding the bases. Don't you think they should be going a little more slowly?"

I shook my head, but in a way that indicated agreement. I was ready to agree with just about anything she said, actually. "They're not really savoring each base", I observed. "There's no way he enjoyed second, with how quickly he ran through it."

"That's what I mean", she said. "I think guys should go slow around bases, don't you? I mean, really slowly."

"Well sometimes they don't even finish", I pointed out.

She gasped in mock horror, putting her hand to her face. "What a terrible fate!"

"I mean, this guy"- I gestured to the player who'd just hit a single to make it first and third with two outs- "could get stranded on first, if the inning ends."

She shook her head back and forth. "That would be so sad." Unable to help herself, she smiled. "Stranded on first." She repeated the phrase once more, as if she actually quite liked the idea. She reached over and brushed my hair again, and I allowed myself a quick kiss on her wrist. "Stranded on first", she said one more time. "Something about that is kind of hot, you know? Not that I'd want to keep a guy there forever." She paused, considering. "But the thought of keeping him there for a while, without knowing when he's going to be rescued...mmmm. I like taking it slow."

I had started to notice within myself a strange desire to agree with her opinions on this issue. "First base is underrated."

Her hand touched my thigh, tapped the cage again, and suddenly I had to hold on to the bar to steady myself. My toes contracted, my cage shrunk, and I had to take a few deep breaths so the other people around us wouldn't think I needed medical attention.

"I'm glad you think so", Lily said. "How far away did you say your apartment was, again?"