Chaste first date, with unchaste implications

Choosing lingerie for that date was not easy, not only because I got my period that morning but also because I had three countervailing desires for what would happen that night:

1. Charles would tell me, sweetly, that he thought we needed to go slow, since we were old friends, and we didn't want to jeopardize that. In which case, lace thong=disappointment, though the frustration of that disappointment and the thought of what it would cause me to do when I returned chastely home had an attraction all its own that nevertheless wasn't enough to outweigh the need for comfort, in my delicate menstrual condition.
2. Charles would, conventionally, rip my clothes off at some point. In which case, lace thong=disappointment for both of us, but perhaps in a good way, if I could manage the courage to tell him that my panties were staying firmly on, despite really wanting them off. I'm not invariably horny during my period, but for the right reasons I can definitely get that way, and that afternoon, thinking about the date, I was getting that way. (Nor do I object to period sex, actually, but first-date period sex? Nope.)
3. Charles would do something dominant. It didn't go any further than that, because I didn't want to set myself up for disappointment, and the very beginning of a fantasy in which he would find some pretext to tell me I needed a spanking, or told me that we were going to have anal sex, so I needed to find a drugstore and buy some lube, made me so unbearably, even uncomfortably (in my delicate condition) aroused that I couldn't take it and had to distract myself with some law school reading (that is, the least hot thing imaginable). . . .
   For more about the "real" me, read the Companion! You'll find the rest of this post (and it's hot, I promise!) there.