Chapter 4: First Contact

Jenny's Recollections

A few days after my meeting with Angela, she sends me an e-mail: "Dear Jenny," it says. Angela's e-mails always sound like letters. "I hope you have been thinking about your proposed exploratory investigation." So now it's 'my proposed investigation' I think. "Contact Inward Bound and see what they have to offer. At this stage, I think you should regard this as a pilot project as we discussed and I think you should approach them as an ordinary client. I'm sure you'll agree that their approach might be different if you state your academic interest right away. As I've always said the foundation of good field work is minimum bias and maximum objectivity. As far as funding is concerned, it will depend on their fees, of course, but I hope we can use some of my Endowment Funding. Best wishes, Prof."

When I first looked at the Inward Bound website, I was amazed, curious, intrigued and delighted, in that order. From a research point of view I can agree with the Prof: it was fascinating. I have seen some similar sites, but they were in the USA or Eastern Europe and almost without exception they are focused pretty much exclusively on the fantasies of male submissives. Angela's enthusiasm has made me more than a little nervous, though. From what we had shared together, I can imagine that her interest in Inward Bound might be more than academic and it wouldn't be with her joining in as one of the consensual slaves. I am still worried that she might see this as some opportunity to revive our personal relationship.

On a personal level, Inward Bound could offer me the chance to fulfil the sort of fantasies that had been with me since I was a young teenager, things that I hadn't shared even with Angela when we were together. Sure, I would prefer to be playing this sort of game with Joe, but he felt it was not "appropriate". It's strange. Joe and I have this really open relationship; we can talk about anything, but somehow when it comes to this the shutters come down. Maybe it's me or maybe it's him. I found it difficult to say what I wanted; he found it difficult to take the lead. What ever it is, it hasn't really worked out for us. The vanilla sex was fine — he was kind and loving and friendly and it was great. The trouble was it wasn't enough. But I would rather be playing with Joe. Wouldn't I?

I try to put my personal interests and my feelings about Joe to one side. In the context of what I am supposed to be doing, they aren't going to help with objectivity! Still, it's hard not to think about him. And us.

I'm looking at the home page of the Inward Bound web site. "Inward Bound" it says in a professional looking style with sober colours. "The place to explore your submissive fantasies in depth. Join us for the chance to experience consensual slavery. Extended courses let you lose yourself in your wildest dreams."

I must have looked at this site twenty times, or more. At first, I thought it was too good to be true;. Each aspect of what Inward Bound claimed to do pulled at my own desires and spoke to what I felt might be the research needs, too. I wrote notes on the site for discussion with Angela, but I kept being drawn back again and again. I almost knew the content by heart: the facilities that they had; the range of programmes they ran; the sort of experiences that the slaves, or as they called it "participants" could expect; the importance they saw in helping participants take each step along their own personal journeys. I guess you might think that showed more than professional interest, and I think you would be right.

I suppose that I just sort of fall towards a decision. I have the opportunity; Joe will be away for nearly three months over the summer. I have the motive; the chance to find out finally, if this flavour of sexuality is as exciting in fact as it is in my head. Best of all, I have the alibi; it really will be pioneering ethnographic research. Won't it?

So here I am, looking at the Inward Bound web site again. I've told Angela that I'm prepared to do it. She has told me she can get the funding. She's promised there no more to it than research. I still don't think I believe her but I'm not going to stop.

At the top of the page it says, "Register For More Information Now." I'm looking at the on-line online form that I have just completed.

Name, age, e-mail contact and mobile number. It could be a holiday booking site.

Level of experience of BDSM. Sexual likes and dislikes. So, not like many holiday booking sites there.

There's a part where they ask about my general medical history and rather some more specific questions about my sexual history. It's embarrassing in one way to be exposing this, but the questions are very politely asked and the anonymity of the computer makes it easier.

"How long could I stay?" the form asks and then "What would I like to achieve?" That's a difficult question and I'm not even sure I know the answer. Plus of course, I don't want to say anything about the university. I look at what I've typed in. "To understand my submissive responses better." It sounds a bit lame, but it will do. And it's true. It's probably not all of the truth, but it is at least true.

Finally, there is the inevitable "where did you hear about us?" I tick the box marked "Second Skin Magazine" and now the last box is gently and seductively blinking at me: "Send?", "Send?", "Send?", "Send?"

With a stab of adrenalin running through my body, I press the return key and send the form!

At once I'm thinking, "Gee, what have you done, girl? Was that really wise?" Joe is not easy at all with my thoughts of master / slave games. What if I find out I really enjoy it as much as I enjoy my fantasies? Where does that leave Joe and me?

Before I can think too much about it, a new box opens on the screen. "Dear Jenny. Thank you for your enquiry. We're delighted that you've decided to get in touch with us. This is an automated reply, but Charlotte will try to call you tomorrow and will leave you an e-mail if she cannot reach you. Best wishes and thanks again from the Team at Inward Bound."

And again, I'm caught between conflicting emotions. On the one hand, I'm taken aback to get a response so quickly, perhaps even a little uneasy that a reply came at all. On the other hand, I'm reassured by the tone of the Inward Bound reply; it seems friendly and very professional. And, now I feel I am in a corner. I am going to have to follow this through.

I go to bed. A large whiskey helps me into a deep sleep.

I wake up really rested. My mind turns over the jobs for the day and I'm asking myself why I feel so relaxed and good? At the back of my mind, though, I'm feeling that there is something difficult to do today. Then I remember Inward Bound and a stab of anxiety drives me out of bed, to the bathroom and then downstairs to breakfast. I'm fretting about whether I've done the right thing. The feeling is still with me as I leave the flat and start my journey to the university.

It's 10 am — or just after. I have a lot to do today and I am in the middle of setting out the day when my mobile rings. My eyes are still scanning down my list of "work" e-mails as I casually answer, feeling slightly irritated about the early interruption. The unfamiliar voice on the phone jerks me back to full attention.

"Hi, is that Jenny?"

"Yes."

"Hi, it's Charlotte." There's a pause. " ... Look, I'm sorry to catch you at work, but did you send us an enquiry form through our web site last evening?"

"Erm, erm, yes, I did, actually." I feel embarrassed, as If I'd been caught doing something I shouldn't have. Charlotte laughs. It's friendly, understanding, a laugh that encourages me to let down my guard.

"Great. Look, I was just calling to make a first contact." Her voice is light and she sounds approachable. "If you would like to take your enquiry a little bit further, I would normally arrange to meet you maybe at your place or over coffee in town which is often best. I'm sure there will be other things you want to know. I can give you more information before you take any more definite steps. And I'll want to make sure that our programme will fit in with what you are looking for, too."

She stops. I can't think of anything to say.

"Would you like that?" Charlotte says. "Just to find out more? Maybe next week?"

My mouth is a bit dry now and I'm sure my voice is shaking. "Erm, yes please, erm thank you. Yes. Yes definitely."

So, a week later, here I am in a quiet corner of Café Nero and absolutely on cue a girl about my own age saunters in. Tall, slender, athletic looking. Blond hair, folded into a French pleat. Piercing blue eyes, pale skin; she could be Scandinavian, I think. Blue jeans and white blouse under a leather jacket. She has cowboy boots on and carries a rather informal, but smart leather brief case. The jacket, boots and bag all match, in the same soft tan leather. In a word — class. She pauses and calls a number on her mobile. My mobile rings. So, this must be Charlotte. Heavens: this really is for real, then?

Charlotte sees me reach for my phone. She smiles, comes over and puts her hand and rather familiarly on my shoulder. "Hi, Jenny, I'm Charlotte." She sits down. "Good to meet you." She looks at my still full coffee cup. "Do you want another she asks?" I shake my head. "I'll get myself some water."