Chapter 8 : Summoned

George hadn't slept well and he was finding it more and more difficult to concentrate on his work. The scrap book which he had so carefully prepared sat in the bottom of the bottom drawer of his desk. The guide was tucked inside it. Every so often, he would take it out and read through the rules and advice it contained, enjoying the thrill that the prospect of further contact with Mistress Erica brought.

After a week, though, there had been no contact from Erica. George wondered if he should telephone her but he knew that he would need some business pretext and the more he thought about it the more he felt unable to pick up the telephone. It was during one of his "I'll call her — no I won't — yes, I will — no, I won't" sessions that the phone rang.

"Hello, George." Erica's voice sounded as smooth and sweet as honey.

George almost dropped the telephone. Worried that he might be over heard in spite of the fact that he was alone in the office he dropped his voice to almost a whisper as he responded. "Hello, err, Erica," he answered.

"I don't think that's right is it?" Erica responded sternly. "Or haven't you read your little guide book?"

"Sorry, err," stuttered George, looking around furtively in a way that looked all the more foolish because he was completely alone. "Err, sorry, err, Mistress Erica."

"That's better," she said. "And I do hope you are on your knees as the guide requires."

George gave a short whimper as he remembered the instructions in the pamphlet. He got to his knees. "Yes, Mistress," he said. The tone of quiet submission in his voice was clearly audible to Erica and she decided not to bully him further.

"Good," Erica said. "There were two things. Firstly, those tax details. I've found the papers that you asked for. If you would like to stop by some time, you can go through them or you can pick them up and drop them back later. Either way would be fine. I 'm sure you'll get them dealt with in time for whatever deadlines the Chancellor wishes us to meet."

George was disappointed by the mundane nature of Erica's call. Although he was on his knees dreaming of serving her, discussing tax forms wasn't what Erica's voice encouraged him to think of. Even so, it was, of course, what he was supposed to be doing for her. "Yes, certainly," he said. "I could drop by this afternoon if that's convenient. It shouldn't take me more than an hour to sort them out."

"That will be fine, George, thank you. It's nice to have these things dealt with so efficiently."

"It's no problem. Oh and what was the other thing that you said you wanted to discuss?"

Erica was quiet for a moment as if thinking. "Ah. Oh, yes. Well if you're coming over we can deal with it then. I just want to check that you've digested the contents of that guide properly. It shouldn't take us more than an hour if you can spare the time."

George gulped. He was anxious to experience Erica's dominant presence again but still concerned less he should fail to comply fully with the guide. There was only one answer for him, though. "Yes, of course," he answered.

"Very good," said Erica. "I'll expect you at three to go through the forms and then perhaps we can get together at four?"

"Yes," said George, and then, more firmly, "Yes, of course, Mistress."

George arrived at Erica's exactly on time. The Guide had been most particular about punctuality. Neither early arrival nor lateness would be tolerated. Erica greeted him with a smile and showed him into a room that had been set aside for office work. On the desk was a pile of paper work, beside it on a tray was a steaming cup of coffee, a small jug of milk and some sugar. "I thought you'd like something," said Erica. "Do let me know if there's anything else you need."

George coughed and nodded. He was a little confused. Erica was wearing a light summer dress with a floral pattern. After the more severely tailored clothes that he had been used to seeing her in, it seemed uncharacteristically, almost perversely, feminine. Her hair was tied back from her face with a scarf and she looked as fresh as the summer's day itself, not wearing a touch of make-up. Beautiful was the word that sprang to George's mind, although she hardly had the look of a dominatrix. She smiled as she left him and George started on the forms, wondering if he had completely imagined the appointment that he was so looking forward to in what was less than an hour's time.

George worked away at the paperwork diligently. It wasn't difficult; it was just tedious. Each one needed to be checked and completed with the information requested and of course the information required was never quite what was to hand. He had done it many times before. "Place the total revenue for the business excluding any grants, loans or other benefits in Box 4"; "Box 7 : Include the value of any capital allowances claimed in respect of the current year's tax"; "Box 9: Include the costs of all income tax, insurance contributions and other staff related expenses." By the end of the hour he had finished it. The forms were ready to go off, the tax calculated. All Erica had to do was to write a cheque for the tax due. It was the usual service he gave to all of his clients.