My eyes are on you from the moment you stepped into the bar. Biding my time. Watching. Waiting. A predator never makes a move without considering every possibility. Let the target let their guard down. No booze; I like to keep my mind sharp and my senses clear. I can see you sneaking glances at me when you think I'm not looking. That's ok. I don't mind. I like to make my prey make the first move, let them come to me. Make sure they feel comfortable. After all, there were plenty of other seats at the bar. And yet, you chose to sit next to me. The thrill of the hunt sets my body on edge as I feel your eyes upon me, reeling you in as I deliberately refuse to move my eyes from the wall of backlit, colorful bottles.

That's it. Take in the outfit I've picked out to appeal specifically to people like you. Notice all the...little hints I left for people like you. The tall, perfectly shined leather boots. The chain wrapped around my waist, acting as a belt, topped with a shiny brass lock. The black leather harness over a crisp, clean white collared shirt. The handcuff earrings. The key dangling from a delicate chain around my neck. The short, shiny latex jacket, studded with studs. Is it just a fashion statement or...something else?
I give you time to let the question bounce around in your head, and just before you steel yourself to ask, I pounce. I turn my head, locking eyes as I catch you staring at me. As if I haven't noticed you doing it for the past ten minutes.

"Hey~".
We both know you've been caught. You nervously stammer out a 'hey' in response.
"I like your collar." I say, nonchalant, as if I can't tell the effect those words have on you. Because we both know that's what it is. Not a necklace. Not a choker. A collar. I tell you as much, as I turn to you and cross my legs.