Chapter 9: After the Party

The day after started like the week before, with too little sleep and a lot of work to be done. Sean had promised an open house after the wedding. It was Sunday morning, so the Amish were holding their service in the Ballroom. The merry-go-round was shut off, in deference to the Amish service, but a lot of the staff's families were playing the games. About ten o'clock the Amish joined the party, so we could start the carousel. Some of Francine's people even played their roles on their own time, which touched me.

At one o'clock the catering truck arrived. All week it had been cold sandwiches and chips. For Sunday, we received fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, creamed corn and iced tea. Sean must have asked the chefs to make it because this was quality stuff. There were decent rolls, but the Amish supplemented it with bread from the wedding and pickles and condiments from the barbecue. On behalf of the staff and family, I thanked them for all the work they had done. Elder Neufeld thanked Michael and Mitchell for offering the work. We all agreed that God had blessed it.

The rest of the day was a welcome break. I met with the senior Amish women to set up a method of communication. Evaine Schaeffelker would be going to Pennsylvania with them, so I promised to drive over and pick her up. She suggested a train, but I was firm. It would be too easy for Evaine to keep pushing back her departure time. I wanted her back before she joined the community. As it was, I expected at least three boys to try to follow her during their Rumspringa.

Yet another of my misconceptions was that Amish have churches. Not. They meet in homes. None the less, I followed through on giving them the wood fired stove. I did not know which house received it, nor did I wish to know. I also handed out many smaller gifts. The house library has many farm and orchard books. The storage rooms had many implements from a century ago and longer. Some I kept, because Sean intended to start using the land again. Others, such as an eight-mule harness and a lumber hauling wagon, had no place in our future plans. I made a gift of it all. The wagon was stout enough to haul the stove.

Even that took only a day. Tuesday was full of departures. With a few exceptions, my students went home or back to Hanover. The Amish drove their wagons to the train station and loaded up. Francine flew back to California, which left me holding the bag on Sheila's business. When things are that transparent, often there is a good reason. I just wanted to know what it was, eventually.

Christine woke me in her usual fashion, with her lips. No student can survive without being able to get up before seven, but I was getting used to rising at five. Given the late nights playing Mistress to a bunch of horny grad students, this did not make for cheery mornings. I grumped and pouted as Christine led me through the ablutions and mandatory caffeine.

Next stop was Security for the daily update. I was not meeting Gerald in a corset and robe, so I added the basics—stockings, shoes, bra and panties, skirt, men's style shirt. Makeup, jewelry and jacket would come later. It says something that I considered a bra one of the basics, much less the corset, but I was in training.

Gerald was as precise and correct as always. It may have been my imagination, but he seemed to brace to attention before delivering the report. Many things were ongoing, most of which were clean up from the wedding. Most of the Amish had gone, but three families remained and more were expected over time. A crew would be breaking down the merry-go-round for moving. That would take two days. Basic clean up of the ballroom and front of the house was complete. Detailed cleaning would be ongoing. Sean had approved additional staff. Contractors would be in to take measurements.

For new business, my brother George would arrive, three days late. Security would meet him at the airport. He could have the guest room I usually used. My old room was getting comfortable. I made a note to have Mitchell Gilbert begin preparing the old servant quarters for long term use. My second note was to get bids on a new gas stove and installation. Anything else could wait for the evening.

I thanked Gerald. He gave me a sharp nod. As I left the room, I heard, "Who would have ever thought we'd see..." cut off by Gerald sharply calling a name. My look was new, but I was still scaring the staff. Christine was silently laughing. When did she show up?

I went by corporate offices to see how Sheila's new offices were coming along. A four office suite had been set aside, which told me volumes about where the new division was in the social pecking order. At a nearby office, I found Sheila's new personal assistant, Roxanna. She was sorting piles of paper as I walked up. Before I reached the desk, the phone rang. She gave a practiced smile and raised one finger.

"Good Morning, Richards Enterprises, Digital Services. How may I direct your call?"

"I'm sorry, but Mrs. Richards has not yet assumed her duties. We are expecting her to be available after June 12th."

"Yes, ma'am. Sheila Schwartz-Richards. She and Sean Richards were married Saturday. Surely you heard of it, the merry-go-round wedding."

"That's quite all right. May I leave a message that you called? Do you wish to record a voicemail?"

"Very good. Thank you for calling."

When she hung up, I asked, "Client or prospective client?" Roxanna nodded. I asked, "How many do you get?" This call was the 5th or 6th in a day and small change. "Get a hold of Harlan Lipton, please. We are going to start diverting this his way."

Harlan Lipton was loosely related to the Lipton tea family. His own money came from a legal practice that, locally, was second to none. He had been one of Sheila's clients for years, even though he had passed sixty when they met. Arthritis and gout forced him to give up on his patronage of Mistress Cynthia, but Sheila spoke fondly of him at the wedding.

The call to Mr. Lipton made me wish I had looked at all my email. There was a note buried in the spam folder. It gave the address and time of a meeting. Since I was expected to be there—expected to run it most likely—it was a good thing I found it. I also had a heads up from Richard Foster, but not from Francine. She was out of town, but the little bitch was getting under my skin. I told Roxanna to refer future callers to the email since mine had been swept by the filters.

I needed to collect Christine before I went to the meeting which reminded me of something. Even though Christine was sleeping in my bed, in theory she was Roxanna's roommate. Sheila was subletting them her apartment til the lease expired. I asked if things were OK with the apartment, since Christine was not around. Roxanna's face blossomed in a smile.

I'm a student of life and social interaction. Roxanna did not need to tell me that this was her first place solo. Even when Christine moved in, it would be temporary. Christine would get a room at the Residence, because she was going to be the nanny. For as long as it lasted, that fairly nice apartment belonged to Roxanna and she loved it. Then her smile turned a bit sideways and she asked me if I wanted to see it. I was tempted.

Instead I said, "I'm on the Board of Directors. That makes me your boss. It also happens that I am getting serious with a tall German gentleman. My life is not as free as it was a few weeks ago." I thought for a minute. "I'll tell you what. Sean gets back Saturday night if all goes well. Saturday morning I will take you for a drive in Shadow. She's my BMW 503. Do you like open roadsters?"

Roxanna's motor was definitely running. We made the date and I left, wondering about the effect I was having on people, women in particular. Roxanna was only the most obvious. Women on the staff deferred in ways they had never done before. It was not just Gerald. All the men in Security, most of them former military, gave me space. It was something to chew on.

Picking up Christine was a hassle. She was back at the house, dealing with the contractors. The meeting was a just mile from the corporate offices, but I needed to make the trip home first. That's life. I drove home, picked up Christine and drove back. The meeting was in an old apartment building, undergoing renovations. That fit. Harlan Lipton was in the property group that would be redoing Sheila's warehouse district. On the door were several lists of group meeting times—self-defense, AA, cancer support, Alanon. It was a great cover. We were Self Respect Enhancement.

Harlan called the meeting to order, but quickly turned it over to me. Since seats were in rows, I went to the front. Christine followed like a shadow. I introduced myself as Dr. Richards. I would be available for one-on-one counseling, at the usual rates. All details could be arranged through my assistant, Christine. However, regretfully, I was not yet able to offer visual support. I then introduced Richard, as Counselor-in-training. Heads nodded as if this all made sense. If anyone had recorded the meeting, you could not have proven in court that BDSM was involved.

On the way out, Richard wanted to speak to me. One glance told me why. Maria, with whom I was intimately familiar, was one step behind him. Richard wanted to date Maria. I told him that his first responsibility was to ensure Maria stayed faithful to her family and her church. His second responsibility was to ensure she had nothing to confess to her priest.

Since Maria was a firecracker with a wide submissive streak, I wanted the basics crystal clear. As the Dominant, it was Richard's job to look out for her reputation before either his or her gratification. This was not going to be easy for either of them, but shared trials are a bonding experience. When the situation calls for it, there is plenty of time for sex after the wedding.

I emphasized this with my best Dr. Richards glare. Richard swallowed, as first-year students often will, then nodded agreement. Maria was looking on with a mixture of longing and amusement. When I asked to see his emails to Sheila, both their faces fell. A couple of minutes showed it was even worse than I thought. Maria and Christine went to do whatever submissives do together, while I tried to make sense of Richard's reporting.

An hour later, I had shown Richard a few shreds of best reporting practices. Warning him that Sheila was a much more exacting Mistress, pun fully intended, I gathered Christine to go. As we left the meeting, Christine kissed me on the cheek and said, "Thank you." Before I could wonder why she was thanking me, she started to chew on my earlobe.

Before we went home, I stopped at a bookstore to pick up a German self-tutorial. While I was at it, I bought a guidebook to Germany, a German/English dictionary, some books on German history and began the process to get a visa. That evening I composed a letter to Lars Gunter. Using an online service, I translated it. Then I went through and checked that the literal translation meant what I thought it did. It was late when I sent it off.

Christine kept me company while I worked, massaging my shoulders as I became tense. I could seriously get used to having her around. That was when I heard George. My other brother is many things, but quiet and tactful are not on the list. I had said, on occasion, that all you needed to do was listen to George and he was your friend for life. That was because listening to George was nontrivial, occasionally ascending to difficult. It could be interesting when he met Motor Mouth Martel, but Francine would probably just avoid him. Most people did.