Chapter 10: Slippery Little Details

Interlude: 25^th Anniversary

Cindy:

"Looking back from 25 years, it seems obvious that an informal family came together that week. Well, partly formal, since Dad did propose to and marry Mom. But, many of the people that came and went through my childhood, first met that week. After all, I do call Francine Martel, star of stage and screen, Aunt Frannie. Jason Porter and Christine Collins met that week, though, of course, I called her Nanny CC. Back then, she doubled as Mom's secretary and maid."

Sheila:

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

For once, I was awake before the alarm, after spending time with Sean. I was laying in bed, remembering and thinking. My stars, did I actually do some of those things? If it had been anonymous, things would not be so bad, but I had called Julian over, which made certain I was recognized. If I did not feel so fantastic, I would want to crawl under the bed.

I did feel fantastic. There was something about time with Sean and getting quality sleep. Even last night, after an horrific day, I slept like a rock. I smiled, recalling waking up in Sean's shirt. As Francine had pointed out, it was literally the shirt off his back. This morning was the first time he had left me completely naked. There had to be a moral in there somewhere.

I could feel a small smile twitch at my face. There were blurry aspects to last night, but not everything. I remembered going for ice cream and flashing the window attendant. I remembered curling up in Sean's lap and wallowing in his enveloping presence. I remembered him pulling off his jacket (my jacket if you want to be picky, but the one he was wearing) and using it to cover me, as he half-carried me to my apartment. I remembered him standing over me, muttering to himself. I remembered the last two things he said, under his breath: "I love this woman." then "What the fuck do I do now?"

Sean is such a teddy bear.

Sean:

Wednesday broke like a fine china plate. What had been a whole, recognizable life, was suddenly a jigsaw puzzle of tiny pointed shards. The only two things that I was certain about were, #1) I had fallen hard for Sheila Schwartz and #2) I had a company to run, which I could not do from bed. Through the long, sleepless night I had been wrestling with #1. It was time to address #2, which meant I needed to start the ball rolling on #1.

Note to self: Research Victorian protocols of courting and nuptials. While researching, include famous romantic weddings, and get photographs. Humorous side comment: a true Victorian wedding dress almost certainly required a corset. A wedding would also required a ring.

I wondered if I already owned a suitable ring. One of the advantages of doing substantial estate sales is a residue of quality goods, with no particular home. John could pull a visual inventory in minutes. Now that I thought of it, there might even be a suitable gown. Who could I get to vet my choices? Sheila, obviously, would be perfect for the job, and completely unsuitable. While there was a twisted irony about asking her to choose her own wedding gown, I did not think I could fool her for even a moment. However, the corset maker, Julian, might have some good ideas and she was already expecting me to contact him. I would have Helen handle it, to get at least a little distance.

Lord Almighty, I did not want to go to work.

Sheila:

My day was blocked out like a NASA launch. Every moment til 5:00 PM was accounted for. Much of this was from clients I had rescheduled from Monday or Tuesday, plus meetings with Justin's team and/or Sean. I would have zero time for the usual paper and photo work, which would take me well into the evening. Oh well. It was the price of being a sole proprietor.

When I arrived at work, CC was waiting outside. For some reason, my new assistant had slipped my mind. I sent her to look around the studio for a few minutes, while I called Francine.

Phone: This is Francine Martel. Please leave your name and number

"Damn it Francine, that was not funny the first time you tried it, twenty years ago. I was calling about how things went with CC last night."

Phone: Holy Shit, Schwartz. What bee got under your bra strap?

"Francine Vivian Martel, cut the bullshit. I just saw her. The look on her face is one I have only seen one other place, and that one came after a religious experience."

Phone: No shit. When?

"Monday. It was Jason. I almost cried myself to sleep, after what I did to that boy."

Phone: Ease up Sheila. All I did was strip her down, like you said, pose her, like you said, and use some clothes pins and spank her a bit.

"Clothes pins? If I wanted you to use clamps, I would have sent them. Still, that is not too bad. How much did you have her pose?"

Phone: Only a couple.

"Two. Oh my stars. Francine, how long was she in the poses?"

Phone: The first one was pretty long. I got caught up and couldn't get back.

"Oi fucking vey. Let me guess, you left her alone for half an hour."

Phone: Well, no. It was more like an hour.

"OK. I get the picture. If you recall, Herr Gruber would only use isolation in extreme cases, and never for more than ten minutes. What part of 'newbie on her first day' did you not get?"

Phone: Ask her about the second pose. She got into that one.

"Oi vey ist mir. I have to go."

Have I mentioned Francine is from another planet? Either that, or she was dropped on her head, repeatedly.

I found CC exactly where I expected her to be, in the studio, staring at the equipment. I needed to find out if she had been injured in any way. CC's dreamy Zen quality was a bit unnerving to me, especially after recently getting the same thing from Jason. That could wait. For the moment, I wanted to see the second position Francine had taught her. So I said, "Show me the second position."

Without a word, CC started to take off her clothing. I said, "Clothed is sufficient this time." CC nodded and dropped to her knees, then spread her knees apart, sat back on her heels, and reached behind her back, grasping both elbows. Within a second, she was settled in and looked ready to spend some serious time unmoving. I kicked off my shoes and dropped into it myself. It truly was not uncomfortable, but this was not a time for meditation.

I said, "This is good. You clearly have an aptitude for it. We will continue to call it Second Position. It happens to also be a traditional slave position. It exposes the sex, while thrusting the breasts forward and keeping the arms from covering up. I suggest spending time in it daily, as a reminder. Now, I will show you, very briefly, First Position. We do not have time to study right now, but I will expect you to become proficient with it."

With that, I rose, presented to the bar, and went through one full repetition of First Position. That done, I led her through the rabbit hole, into the vanilla world of XTreme Fitness. Our first stop was to visit Marcia, the Assistant Manager on duty that morning. I told Marcia that the General Manager had sent CC to me, for training. This was unusual, but it had happened before. I asked Marcia to put CC on the payroll, at entry salary, with paperwork to follow. That made one more thing to do, after hours.

Then, I took CC to ProShop, the gym's inhouse store. I outfitted CC with a workout outfit, shoes and a padlock. All this I charged to the GM account. Sometimes it can be convenient to have a never seen alter ego. At that point, I would have given CC the tour, but I had a client to meet. I pointed her to the locker room, and told her to find me when she was finished.

Martha was a workout only client, one of only two. She and I had worked together for ten years, through three gyms and two of Martha's pregnancies. For a long time, I wished she would drop me, or choose another personal trainer, so I would have more time for my dual purpose clients. Lately, I was of another mind. Until Francine dropped back into my life, Martha was as close as I had to a friend. If I ever got married, I would ask Martha to be one of my witnesses. This has a downside. One look at me, and Martha knew that something was up.

Her opening remark was, "My God, Sheila, what has been going on? You are glowing, but conflicted as hell." Martha has a PhD in children's therapy, and operates one of the better clinics in town. I have never been able to hide anything from her, except my studio clients, and I am not sure about those. Rather than give background, I went straight to the point. "Sean Richards."

Her mouth did an O, but she recovered quickly. "Just how well do you know the 'Bear of Franklin Avenue', and how long?"

"Just over a week, and pretty well. He took me to a concert and dinner over the weekend, and dinner last night."

"Have you... ?"

"Hmm. No and yes. There is a definite sexual element to the relationship, but it has not been formally consummated. He gives incredible massages. Oh, and he's a teddy bear."

"Not if you listen to some of my parents. He has a reputation for being ruthless. I did not refer to him as a bear for no reason. He also has a reputation for hiring people that no one else even considers. Has he tried to hire you?"

"Artistic consultant."

Martha dropped the weights. She sat up on her bench and stared at me. Then her gaze turned speculative. "And?"

"He is considering offering me a long term position, I think."

"Hail Mary, full of grace. Finally. Do not frighten me like that." She lay back and put her hands on the bar. "Where was I?"

"You were at ten, but do an extra five to balance the pause." CC came into the room. "By the way, Sean sent me CC as an assistant. I am training her in training. Martha this is Christine Collins. CC, Martha Douglas. Martha is one of my longest continuous clients."

Martha said, "CC, take note of how she said that. Most fitness coaches would have said 'oldest clients'. Diplomacy is never a bad idea. She is a slave driver, but you knew that, did you not?"

CC colored brightly, but said nothing.

Maratha looked back to me. "Richards can certainly pick them, and he obviously knows you well, already."

"Enough talk Martha. Save your breath for correcting my anatomy references. You will, in the next 30 minutes, be demonstrating every major muscle group, starting with pectorals. CC, notice how this exercise works the pectoral muscles, here and here. Secondary benefit is to the abdominal muscles, here, and to the forearms. Push Martha. I need you to show some muscle definition, for CC's sake."

Sean:

Once I arrived at work, things improved. I received good news from several directions. My University Chancellor was much more encouraging. While he had initially been interested in period documents, such as the Marquis' letter, his social science departments were gaga over the ritual and fetish pieces. At least two of the pieces were referenced in period writings, but had never been examined. Professional quality, measured photographs, would be well received. The Chancellor also had people that wanted to discuss virtual books, so I referred his people to my people.

On the licensing end, we had only a couple of hold outs. Much of the written erotica was unpublished, so copyrights had run in the shortest time possible. This made the intellectual content part of the public domain. Of the relatively few that still had copyrights in force, most were willing to allow photographic reproduction rights. As a bonus, each item was getting "Reprint rights transfer with sale" added to the item description. No one expected this information to hurt the selling price.

On another front, Harold Johnstead, my printer, was overjoyed to get off square one. He was requesting a formal meeting with the photographic team. I informed him that I had hired an Art Director, with full creative control, but said she would not be available til Thursday. This received a mixed reaction. Harold 's people were reluctant to accept a meeting with a veto power absent, but they were overjoyed that the veto was no longer in my hands. The tentative meeting was moved to 11:00 AM, on the hopes that Sheila could swing by.

Justin and Peter informed me that the layouts were basically ready to go, but that final choice of shots needed to be made. Peter was adamant that Sheila do this in person. In his words, Sheila was "a freaking genius at this. I could not do it half as well." I informed Justin and Peter that they were meeting with the printers and that Sheila would likely not be able to attend. Peter was unfazed. He said that it was normal for "the Boss Lady" to attend, but the real decisions were still down the road. I told them that George would pick them up at 10:45 AM.

Curtis called with contract language for me to approve. Jordan Hayes called to finalize monetary exchange protocols. Gerald called concerning extra security, which we were hiring for the date of the sale. The caterers and rental people called, to finalize set-up and tear-down times. One thing after another fell into place.

Suddenly, I had time on my hands, relatively speaking. My thoughts went to Sheila and I realized that I had decided to propose marriage. Odd that I had not noticed the decision, at the time. Something, from the conversations that morning, had jarred my memory. Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning had spent their married life in Italy. Some years before, a collection of personal items and papers had gone to auction. My firm had handled the American releases and acted as intermediary for some of the successful bidders. I still had contact information in my files.

Several phone calls later, I had the opportunity to purchase a folding fan, which Elizabeth Barrett-Browning had carried in Italy, and one of Elizabeth's personal datebooks. From another source, I was able to obtain a good photograph of her favorite choker brooch. I considered buying the fan, but Sheila did not play coy. The datebook was nice, but it was from later in Elizabeth's life, and not associated with her wedding. However, the choker brooch was central to many of her images, both painted and photographic.

I emailed the image to Francis, my jewelry expert and asked about getting a good reproduction made. On a whim, I asked about vintage Claddagh rings. Within minutes, he called me back, saying that a famous ring was up for sale. It had been given by William Trent, 3^rd Earl of Clancarty, to his bride Sarah Butler, in 1832. I told him to buy it and send it to me, overnight delivery. I also told him to make a good reproduction of the Barrett choker, unless he could find a comparable period piece.

Then it was off to see the printers. For once, I went to a meeting with a feeling of accomplishment, albeit on a different subject.

Sheila:

After Martha, the morning passed without much fuss. Since all my other appointments were for dual purpose clients, they assumed that CC would handle most of the gym side of things, while I handled the studio. It was an idea with some merit, though I was not yet ready to commit to it. For one thing, it was painfully clear that CC would need considerable training herself. Also, her fitness was not at a level I demanded of my clients, much less the gym staff.

However, through the course of the morning, I did come to know CC much better. To say she was shy and quiet was an understatement. She reminded me of Sean's assistant Helen, who thought three words was a long speech. Under all that quiet lurked a fierce drive. No one had taught her about goals, and goal planning, but she would perform any assigned task exactly, or pass out still trying. I told her that she would spend much of the afternoon bound and gagged, while I handled clients. CC's only response was a flaring of the nostrils and deepening of her breath.

At 9:55 AM, I had a moment to check my messages. One was from Sean, saying that the meeting with the printers had been moved to 11:00, in the hopes that I could make it. That almost worked. I messaged back that he could have a car pick me up at 11:30, if it also brought lunch. At 11:25, I gave CC ten dollars and told her to get lunch, something light, and meet me at 12:15 in front of my studio.

At 11:35 AM, I was in the back of Sean's Mercedes, putting the finishing touches on my young executive look. Lunch turned out to be a Cianfrani sandwich, with a side of cut veggies, nonfat yogurt and two bottles of water. When George let me out, I told him that half the sandwich was his, as well as a bottle of water. The other bottle, mostly empty, I carried with me.

Sean met me at the door. On the way in, he explained that this was a meeting for the basic layouts, which Peter had handled quite well. Hopefully there was nothing left but rubber stamping. Fortunately, given my time constraints, this proved accurate. I was introduced to all the players in the printing staff, except the owner, and they to me. Somewhere along the way, my empty bottle was exchanged for a full one. I officially gave my approval of the work to that point, then begged off for my afternoon clients.

On the way out, Sean introduced me to Harold Johnstead, the owner. Harold happened to be one of my long term clients. I winked at him, when he did not recognize me. When he turned red, I explained to his aides that we had met at XTtreme Fitness. He had not recognized me, I suggested, in business attire. I left the meeting confident in improved cooperation from the printer.

Once back at the studio, I let in CC and sent her to strip naked. While she was gone, I readied the whipping horse, which is much like it sounds. It is an oversized carpenter's horse, with sides that spread the legs, and lots of places to tie things. It would not be comfortable for CC, since I had five 30 minute appointments, but I could afford to leave her there the whole time. Once she was gagged and mounted, I went to fix my look for the first session.

The whole afternoon was a success. Rather than conceal CC, as I originally intended, I informed everyone that I had a new assistant, in training. Then I led them out to meet her, which introduced CC in a non-threatening manner. Considering the nature of my business, I treated emotional security is critical. It also gave me an interesting read on how each client viewed his relationship to me. Some viewed CC as protected, since I had laid claim to her. Others viewed her as inferior, since she was bound and they were not, yet.

My favorite reaction came first. Reuben wanted to be mounted face to face with her. That was physically impossible, but I managed a reasonably good imitation. As a reward, I stuck two condom covered fingers into CC's cunt, and placed it under Rueben's nose, while I administered his caning. What interested me was watching CC's eyes, while I beat Reuben to orgasm.

Eventually, the client sessions were all complete. I removed CC's gag, but CC said nothing. I put my hand against her face and she pressed into it like cat, waiting to be stroked.

I shook my head and said, "I just do not have time for you right now. So I am going to treat you to a taste and then ask you a question. I am leaving the gag off, but the gym is through that wall. I think you understand what I saying." CC's eyes got impossibly wider, but she nodded. "Last chance. After I do this, if I do this, you will be going over to the warehouse. You know the nature of the work there. This will make it very difficult to sit down." CC nodded, without hesitation. Was I ever that young? "OK then."

I picked up Long John, my 14" vibrating dildo, shoved it all the way to CC's cervix and turned it on high. CC jerked, but did not whimper. I picked up my favorite flogger and had at her. The blows struck on or around the dildo as much as possible. After ten lashes, CC was limp as overcooked pasta, but there was a pool of her juices on the floor behind the horse.

I went back to her front end and rubbed her cheek with the rough sharkskin of the flogger's handle. The answer to my question was obvious, but formalities must be observed. I held her gaze and asked, "Is this what you really want?" CC's big green eyes filled with tears as she nodded. "Very well. I will accept responsibility for your training. It may take a few days to move your things and settle you in, but from now until I say otherwise, you are mine." I unbuckled her from the horse. "Now get down and clean up your mess. Be quick about it, because you have to dress before we leave." CC climbed, stiffly, off the horse and began licking her juices off the floor.

Why could not Sean have gotten me a puppy? On second thought, maybe he did.

Sean:

The meeting with the printers ran on rails. Everything had been covered and re-covered by the time Sheila arrived. She stomped in, doing a very good impression of Sigourney Weaver, from Working Girl. She spent some time talking and gesturing with an empty water bottle. Then, she took the keyboard and made a few changes. My big contribution was switching her empty water bottle for a full one. Often, that is the best way things can be. When you are the boss, always hope for people that can work without you, but especially for people that can work in front of you.

On the way out, I wanted to introduce Sheila to the old man, Harold Johnstead, owner, founder and CEO. At first, it was a polite meet and greet, then Harold's face turned puce. Sheila smoothly covered. She explained that they had met at the gym, and Harold had not recognized her dressed for business. That Harold had not recognized her was obviously true. Given that, no one would look into the nature of the gym. We exited quietly, but I was feeling much better about the level of support they would provide us. It was very close to crunch time, and we needed all the help we could get. Have I mentioned how much I loved this woman?

George took Sheila back to her studio, while I went back to the office. Other than the usual progress reports, nothing much was happening on the auction. Printing the catalog was the final hurdle, and that project finally looked doable. Accordingly, I told Helen to compile a list of people to commend.

Down the priority list a ways, I had a response from Francis. I had purchased the wedding band, for £17,250, plus 15% commission and insurance. It was being air shipped, with an expected Friday arrival. Francis warned me that the ring would likely fit only a pinky finger. He was already modeling a casting blank for a modern sized hand. I love working with competent people.

Further checking on Elizabeth Barrett produced nothing new. She was simply too famous. Most of her personal items were already in museums. I did obtain an original photograph of her, wearing the choker brooch. I made notes concerning the picture. It was to be expertly preserved and mounted in a suitable period frame.

That was it. It was time to start looking for the next big project, but the biggest thing on the horizon was proposing marriage to Sheila. This made for a difficult afternoon.

Sheila:

After meeting Harold, our group parted, with Sean heading back to HQ. One thing I liked about Sean, is that he knew how to get out of his people's way. He clearly had aptitude as a micro-manager, but he was willing to let people do their job, rather than make them spend time answering to him. This was gratifying, but frustrating as hell, since I had no excuse to consult him. I wanted to crawl into his lap and let him stroke my hair.

Such was not to be. As soon as we got to the warehouse, I told George that he was to take CC to her apartment and gather everything she owned in the way of clothes and personal items. I did not expect it to be much. I then called my building Super and informed him that Christine Collins, age 19, niece, would be moving in for the foreseeable future. I asked that he let her deposit her things and said I would come by in the morning, to sign the paperwork and pick up a key.

CC's green eyes were getting big, again. I told George to get whatever help he needed, but he waived me off. In his opinion, CC would not have much to be tossed, much less carried out to the car. One look at CC confirmed George's opinion. A trip to the mall would soon be on the agenda.

At the warehouse, I checked through security, and went up. Everyone was playing nice, which was a change from the first time I met them. Lately, Justin and Peter had worked separate tracks, while Jason was much less annoying. I expected CC to arrive in half an hour, which got me musing. The interactions between Jason and CC would be interesting.

About the job, progress was visible everywhere. The layout formatting was essentially complete. The order of presentation was roughed out, and the indexing automated. What was left were the artistic decisions, which I, supposedly, had been hired to do. First, and most importantly, Peter, Justin and I went through the final selection of their new shots. These were images which would serve as background. We narrowed our final group down to eleven pictures of Jason, three of myself, six pictures of the Marquis letter and five file shots of ancient ruins.

There was never much discussion about the prime shot. We had an unforgettable image of Jason, just before he exploded into his jock strap. I did some fine-tuning and we had our cover shot. The other choice selections were the source of much argument, since each of us had a favorite. I tried to use my position to overrule the others, but they claimed bias, and threatened to call Sean. We settled on a long shot, of both Jason and I, for the reverse cover. The table of contents was of me, getting my corset tightened. Guys.

Once the shots were chosen, we refined the images. In this, Justin and Peter bowed out and let me do the work. Instead, they worked on the archeological items, which were the easiest. About this time, CC arrived. I gave her to Peter, to serve as his go-for, just as Jason already did for Justin. The afternoon was full of fussy detail work, which kept us going late. Sean finally called a halt, at 11:00 PM.

The ride home was odd. I was driving, so CC rode in the back. Neither of us spoke. When we reached my building, I saw that the Super's light was on. We knocked, and I made the formal introductions. He had paperwork for me to sign and a key ready. Suddenly, I had officially acquired a roommate, for the first time in eight years. I took CC up to my apartment and let us in. As soon as we were inside, she dropped all pretense and hugged me. I returned the embrace, for a long while.

Eventually, I broke apart so that I could look into her eyes. "CC this is now home for you. It is going to be a lot of work. You will clean this apartment, to my very picky standards, plus you will need to learn both sides of the business, at the gym and at the studio. I may, on occasion, ask you to service me sexually, again to my exacting standards. When your work is not up to those standards, you will be disciplined. When your work is perfect, I will, occasionally, tie you up and whip you til you cum. Do not confuse one with the other. Do you understand?"

CC's eyes never left mine. They welled with tears as she nodded. I said, "Very well. Welcome to your new home. I will not force you to leave without first arranging a suitable place. In this you must trust me.

"Now, go to the bedroom and strip off your clothes. In this apartment, you will usually be naked, unless you are cooking. In that case, you will wear a full length apron for safety. Can you cook?" CC shook her head, then cocked it to one side. That was clear enough, based on her background. "I understand. You know how to serve at table. That is good, as I may have guests. Go get naked and start my shower. I will teach you how I like my back scrubbed and then we will sleep. Tonight, you will sleep with me in the bed, since this is a special occasion. Tomorrow, I will get you a proper rug and blanket. Go."

CC lacked skill, but she did have enthusiasm. My back was soon well washed, and my pussy received attention. It was not quality attention, but that was not unexpected. CC had no experience, and I doubted she had ever studied the process in theory. Still, she would get better or she would sleep cold. But, that was for later. She curled up on the bed and I wrapped myself around her. I fell asleep thinking how much our relationship resembled Sean's and mine.

Thursday morning, I shook CC awake. That was another thing she would learn. I told her to practice 2^nd position while I dressed. Then, she would have five minutes to dress, while I made tea and toast. That eaten, I had CC bring me her clean clothes. As I suspected, she was better off the day before, when I had dressed her for the gym. I selected a T-shirt and gave her an old pair of running shorts. That, and the warmups, would get her through the morning. Hopefully, Saturday would feature a trip to the mall.

Once at the studio, I showed her the office and pointed out what was private and what was confidential. She needed to know that distinction. I showed her the cameras and the editing room. That area would take time. I showed her the storage locker and watched her eyes get big. I showed her the costume locker and watched her eyes get bigger. CC was a closet exhibitionist. Good to know.