Dot. Dot. Dot. All the way back up to the shoulder. Dot. Dot. Dot. There's a rhythm to it, as calm and precise as the music. Pain as performance. Order. Structure. Predictability.

Dot. Dot. Dot. Star.

The star is the part where she bites you.

Her teeth sink into her shoulder. Her fingernails scrape down your side. It's not as painful as the circle but it's far less controlled, far less predictable, the music descending into chaos - you are blindfolded and bound and in the claws and teeth of something that is biting you, clawing you, you are a prey animal and you need to run, need to run, need to [i]run[/i] -

Then - then!!

Something soft and warm touches your lips. Coffee, perfect gentle warm. Your blindfold is pulled off. Magenta eyes are staring directly into yours. A raised hand, fingers counting down from five, hot breath on your face. Hell into heaven and you are running out of time to remember how to deal with the transition - to reject what is against your lips and bring them back under your own control.

Do you?