I told myself I was relieved when she arrived in a pair of jeans and a black shirt.

She immediately started our lesson without letting us fall into what was becoming our familiar banter. “So from the screening, I know you can act, but going off the table read, this character isn’t working for you yet. I think it would be helpful if we sort of rehearsed a more intense scene from the script so I can get a better sense of where you’re struggling.”

“Okay. What scene should we do?”

“Let’s skip the early stuff and jump to where he’s finally letting his true colors show. We’ll try the scene where he initiates her. You don’t know those lines yet, do you?”

“No, but I can give you the gist of it without having to read it.”

“Okay. Let’s run through it and then we can pause and talk. I’ll stop you if I have a problem with anything, but don’t be afraid to just go for it.”

I stood with my back turned to her for a few seconds, getting in character. Did she have to do the same before her scenes with clients or was she in character the whole time she was at work? There was a surprising amount of overlap between our professions.

When I turned back to her, my expression was serious and my posture was more rigid, but I didn’t feel like I understood this guy’s motivations clearly enough yet to inhabit his head. It was frustrating to feel like he was still eluding me.

“Come on, pet, I’m taking you somewhere special tonight.” Every time he called her “pet” in the script, I kind of cringed.

“Where are we going?” She was using a convincingly innocent voice I hadn’t heard her use before and it showed me yet again how capable she was of becoming exactly what her clients wanted her to be.

“Ah ah ah…you don’t get to ask questions,” I snapped.

“Interesting.” She waved her hands in apology for breaking the scene, but I wanted to know what she’d noticed, so I nodded at her to explain.

In her usual voice she said, “I read that line as teasing, but you already sound like you’re disciplining me and there’s anger in your tone. It’s okay…sorry. Keep going.”

Sweet and innocent Elena was back in a flash. “Sorry, Sir.”

“You can take your punishment in the carriage.”

I placed my hand on the back of her neck and forcefully steered her over to the leather couch since the scene now cut to the carriage.

“Get over my knee!”

My tone was a bit much, but I was aiming for menacing disciplinarian, figuring we could always tone it down. I patted one knee and gestured to her, but when she complied, something didn’t click between us and she almost fell. We mostly recovered and she ended up across my lap.

Was that what “over my knee” meant?

She lay there for long seconds and I could feel the expectation hanging heavily in the air. Now what? The scene called for me to spank her and she’d told me to go for it, but it felt like I needed more express permission than that.