It has been a while since that night, an evening that had seemingly passed in an instant while simultaneously stretching on for what felt like an impossibly long amount of time — and she has thought of him since then. How could she not, when even the slightest brush of clothing against her skin had revived the intensity of the marks he'd left behind, left her reeling from the lingering sensitivity? Even after she had recovered physically, the memory of it still resides within her, but she had not been given so much as a name to seek him out by and so she'd been unable to solve that mystery on her own power.

The residence she occupies with a few others is certainly one of the more impressive buildings on the street, so much so that one would think there would be someone else there to take the delivered letter, a hired person or even a butler to collect the message and ensure that it reaches its intended recipient — but rather than any one of her housemates or any staff, it is Vanessa herself who answers the knocking at the front door, looking much more reserved than her prior encounter thanks to the long dress that covers her with its high collar that nearly hides the full length of her submissive mark.

Her brow furrows lightly as she surveys the man standing in front of her, confusion and curiosity worn in equal measure on her expression, and she offers a small questioning tilt of her head before the words follow.

"Can I help you, sir?"