The streetlights throughout the neighborhood turned on at once as the sun faded with the pastels on the horizon. One hand on the door, the other resting lightly on her wife's lower back, Avis twisted their house key in the lock. She smiled down adoringly at her wife before glancing over her shoulder—quick and instinctual—to ensure their friends disappeared in their homes. The neighborhood was still this summer. Every house from where Avis stood had curtains drawn. Only the soft hum of the porchlights and the crickets chirping filled the silence. 'Good.' Meant the HOA wouldn't be paying any surprise visits tonight. Guiding her wife, she stepped aside until her feet touched the wooden floors first. The scent of burnt sugar and cedar bark stirred faintly in the space between them, curling in the doorway like a held breath. Avis eased the door shut behind them, locking the bolt with one firm turn. The house smelled like pressed linen and honey tea, something soft and domestic. The way it always did when her wife had been fussing over the sink, humming while she stirred things that made Avis feel calmer just by scent alone. Her slacks were still creased from sitting in the grass all afternoon, the festival's sounds still present in her ears: children laughing, bands playing off-key, someone hawking lemonade with too much sugar. All lovely. Avis couldn't have asked for a better day. But now, they were home. Avis hovered in the entryway as her gaze swept the living room like she had forgotten why she was there. Her smile faded like chalk from a blackboard as she moved through the house, each step an erasure of who she was in front of the neighbors. Nothing was out of place in the twelve hours since they'd been away. Her fingers flexed slightly at her sides before she unbuttoned the cuffs of her shirt then undid the top buttons. She flexed her fingers once, letting the memory of her wife's written list replay in her mind. Then she crossed the room in quiet steps, picking up a stray coaster from the coffee table to place with the others. The softness she wore in public slipped from her posture as it was replaced by firmer confidence found in Alpha training videos. Ever since her wife suggested this dynamic, the more they performed, the easier it was for Avis to slip into the domme mindset. She didn't have the fear she used to anymore because her wife wanted her this way. Being needed and loved gave her purpose. 'Shoes,' she ordered tersely. No rush, no immediate barked orders. Avis could command a room with half a glance, and in their home—behind this door—she didn't even need that. Her wife knew what the tone shift meant. Her voice dropped to an authoritative cadence that always set her wife's pulse racing. Sir was home. Her hands grazed the edge of the entertainment center as she passed, eyes on the closed bedroom door. She paused in the kitchen, leaning against the archway. Turned slightly over her shoulder, not quite smiling. 'Do I need to remind you what comes next?' she asked, low and powerful that adrenaline rushed in her ears.