Chapter 9: Pepper Wharf

Julia’s trip to Southwark had helped her solve another problem. As she had walked back towards the office she had spotted a converted riverside warehouse offering apartments. It seemed she thought, an ideal location for her new home and her new project.

“I’ve found a new flat,” she told Sylvia Atterbury, once she had agreed the lease, “and I thought that Raven could advise on setting it up as a model of the way that accommodation could be adapted to provide for a sponsored male.”

Sylvia looked thoughtful for a moment. “That sounds like a good idea. Of course the department cannot pay for any adaptations or improvements needed. You would have to fund that yourself.”

Julia wasn’t surprised by the minister’s response. Sylvia was notoriously careful with departmental funds, quite apart from being sensitive to any suggestion that a member of staff might personally benefit from their work in any way apart from their salary.

It took a while to get the paperwork completed for the flat. Even though the property market was much easier these days with men finding they had to give up expensive, town-centre apartments as a result of their change in earnings, she still grateful to have found something so quickly. Eventually she was able to sign the agreement. Work at the office continued much as before. Henry had asked her a few times about the progress with Raven’s project. He had seemed disappointed not to be going back to her premises in Borough but Julia avoided giving him the reason.

Finally, Julia managed to move in to her new home; a two bedroom, seventh floor, apartment in the Pepper Wharf development, a riverside block that had once been a warehouse.

At Pepper Wharf, the door-boy at reception was surreptitiously looking at a well-thumbed magazine below his desk. Someone peering over his shoulder might have been surprised at the selection of photographs of corseted, high-heeled women wielding whips, when there were plenty of opportunities to enjoy similar sights on the streets of the capital. For someone with his interests, the arrival of New Order had been a blessing but he still found pleasure in furtively seeking out images of dominant women, even though they were hard to find these days – the male-dominated pornography industry hadn’t actually been banned but with many women supervising the things their men read and their lack of disposable income, the dramatically reduced market had done the job for the government. The sound of the door to the apartment block opening attracted his attention and he swiftly folded the magazine away. He looked up at the imperious expression of a woman who was looming over him. “Julia Fain, please,” she said.

“Yes, Ma’am,” the door boy responded respectfully. His mouth was dry but he was keen not to antagonise the daunting woman. “Can I say who is calling?”

“Raven Courten.”

“YES, MA’AM!” He recognised the name from a news broadcast the night before when the Government’s latest plans for sponsorship were being discussed. It was quite something to have a key Government advisor turning up at the Wharf, and he could imagine telling his like-minded friends later about the leather-clad goddess that he had met that day.

Raven Courten recognised the response and bestowed a look of barely concealed contempt that she knew would add to the poor boy’s delight.

A short phone call and a few moments later, Julia appeared in the lobby and asked Raven to follow her upstairs. The door-boy watched her go, fantasising about being ordered to walk in her footsteps.

“I hope you agree this is a useful project,” Julia said as they reached the door of her apartment.

“I certainly do,” Raven replied. “With anything like this, theory is one thing but to have an example of best practice that the Government can point to will help reinforce any messages that we include in the orientation sessions.”

“Well, it’s not a very big flat. I hope we can find enough space for what’s needed.”

“That’s all the better. People need to see how they can keep a sponsored male in the sort of accommodation anyone has. There’s no point in telling people how to manage their man in a twelve bedroom mansion with an underground dungeon unless they are lucky enough to live in one.”

“This is comfortable but it’s no mansion. Just two bedrooms, kitchen and utility rooms, a lounge and this hallway joining them all up. I was going to give Henry the smaller bedroom, I rather assumed he should have his own space. Luckily that’s the one nearest the kitchen and utility, handy for domestic duties, I suppose.”

“Yes, that’s best. You want him to understand that it is you that controls where he is at any given time. You may want to share your space with him sometimes but that must be down to you making that choice. Ideally his room should be lockable for those times when you just want to be left in peace. You won’t let him have a key, of course.”