Chapter 5: Cynthia Submits

Tom Pierce and I compared notes about our trip home. Mine was only a little over a half mile after he dropped me off at the gated community, but I made it sound more grueling than his fifteen miles. I told him about the snowdrifts, how I'd had to knock on three doors before Margaret let me in, and that I'd not ventured out of the house again until that morning when I drove Cynthia to work.

What I didn't tell him was how it felt to have Cynthia sleep on top of me, how sensitive her breasts were and about her discovery that my lips on her nipples gave her orgasm after orgasm. I tended to believe her when she divulged that no other man had given her so much pleasure.

Nor did I tell Tom that once Cynthia discovered that she liked the way I sucked her nipples, she'd wanted to do little else. The only way she'd take time out to eat was when I promised to return to the bed as soon as we finished. In addition to sucking her nipples, non-stop sex was the order of the day.

Wanda didn't pry, but she knew by the shit-eating grin on my face that I'd had an enjoyable weekend.

After John's Monday morning staff meeting, we updated a report to the investors. When that was finished, Wanda showed me the research she'd been doing for Doug's auto parts business plan. It was really taking shape.

"Is that all you did over the weekend?" I asked.

"I don't know if you noticed, but we were snowed in. I didn't have anything else to keep me busy the way you obviously did."

A thought struck me. It was too early to let Wanda in on my plan, but I resolved to find a suitable male companion who would keep her busy.

I told her about my commitment for us to have dinner with my parents on Tuesday nights and about my plans to take Cynthia to Florida to celebrate my twenty-third birthday.

Wanda was noncommittal about my obvious infatuation with the tall widow. She endured my extolling the way Cynthia's agile body sliced through the water, unencumbered by swimwear.

I also boasted about the way I'd coaxed Cynthia to eat three meals per day. "Tonight, I'm going to weigh her so we'll have a starting point. She'll need a new wardrobe after a month of exercise and eating properly."

I could almost tell what Wanda thought about my project; she viewed it as passing folly and fully expected me to move back to my room at home after a few weeks.

What I didn't tell Wanda was how much I missed my two favorite pastimes. In addition to swapping running for swimming, it had been weeks since I'd taken a Saturday morning telephone call from Marcie. Nor did we discuss my concern that Cynthia would suffer abuse from her employees when they discovered that she was braless. That's the reason I left work early.

I needn't have worried. What her employees thought or whispered about behind her back didn't enter Cynthia's mind.

"It's like my sentence has been forgiven. Thank you, Darling, for freeing me of the, how do you say, encumbrance."

I had to laugh. Her upbeat mood was infectious. If she didn't care what others were saying about the sudden change in her chest measurement, I didn't care either.

"Are you ready to leave?" I asked.

She immediately placed her work on a small tray, carried it to her safe, and looked my way before spinning the dial. "Are you sure you don't want to know the new combination?" she asked, a look of anticipation in her eyes.

"I'm certain," I said, turning my back.

Cynthia deposited her lab coat in her office and we said goodnight to her father-in-law before we left. He smiled, approvingly.

In the car, she admitted that she'd changed from the high heels to flats early in the day and vowed to never wear heels again. She wanted to know what I had planned for us to do that evening.

"We'll swim, have dinner, and then I have some work to do," I reported.

She smiled and nodded, saying that she also had work to do.

That set the tone for our nightly activity. We swam in the nude, ate enormous meals, and spent hours in her study before retiring to the bedroom.

By Saturday, when I took her to have her hair shortened, we'd familiarized ourselves with the other's project. I'd never studied the stock market or taken an interest in tracking investments. Cynthia changed that. She taught me to appraise companies based on the merit of their future viability and she praised me when I made a cogent comment.

In return, she digested the business plan that Wanda and I had prepared for Doug. When I told her that Wanda and I were going to present the plan to Doug and his wife on Saturday afternoon, she wanted to tag along.

The hair stylist had to be convinced that Cynthia was not being held hostage before she would agree to follow my directions.

As Cynthia told me later, "She warned me that you are after my money. She accused me of being your submissive slut."

"Ah, I've been found out. What did you say?" I asked, attempting to hide my true feelings. Being accused of being a money-grubbing gigolo was my deepest fear. If the hair stylist had the guts to warn Cynthia about my intentions, what were others saying about my motives?

She smiled, "I told her that I hoped she would discover the joys of being a submissive slut."

I laughed, noting that she'd avoided mentioning the hair stylist's charge that I was after Cynthia's money. I vowed to make my concerns known before the weekend was over.

The next stop was her favorite clothing store. I spoke to the salesclerk regarding the look I had in mind for Cynthia before leaving to pick up Wanda.

"Don't look shocked when you see her hair and the new look I'm shooting for," I warned Wanda. I could tell that she was nervous about having lunch with the rich widow. I didn't tell her that Cynthia was equally nervous.

"I like it!" Wanda exclaimed as I introduced the two women.

Cynthia was overwhelmed, thanking Wanda, while proclaiming that she feared being mistaken for a thirteen year old boy.

I assumed that she was referring to how much her hair had been shortened, not to the way her shirt hugged her chest. Even to the casual observer, the way her tiny breasts protruded beneath her shirt would not go unnoticed. To me, she was sexy, much sexier than when she'd hidden behind the padded bra.

"Not that I mind," Cynthia continued, "What's important is that my boyfriend likes me this way."

We narrowed her purchases to three blazers, matching shirts and slacks because she was putting on a few pounds and would soon need larger sizes.

At lunch, I spoke candidly about the new look I'd chosen for Cynthia. If she minded Wanda overhearing our conversation, she didn't voice her concern.

"I know you're not convinced that losing the padded bra is prudent. Believe me; you're much better off without it. People take notice of the way your nipples stand at attention under your shirt. The boy's haircut makes men look twice. They check your chest and know you're in a state of constant arousal.

"Let's face it. Your legs are not your best asset. Personally, I adore them, but I'm probably in the minority. Wearing slacks sets your mind at ease and frees you to enjoy the attention your upper body attracts."

Cynthia accepted my theories without question, but complained about the new hair style. "My hair grows fast. Maintaining the style will require weekly trips to the hair salon."

"We'll have the stylist come to the house one night each week. It won't take much time at all to keep it trimmed," I argued.

This seemed to satisfy her. She glanced at Wanda before voicing her real concern. "I can't work with my... ," she paused to look down at her breasts. "I make mistakes."

"It's the material. We'll find something soft for you to wear between the shirt and your nipples," I suggested.

"It's called a dickey," Wanda put in.

I didn't know what she was talking about, but I thanked her.

Cynthia agreed with Wanda, saying she would try the suggestion. It was apparent that she was trying to make up for the harsh treatment she'd given Wanda before I changed her attitude by tearing her dress apart and giving her a good fucking. I wasn't sure that I liked the docile Cynthia better, but at least she was being civil to Wanda and to everyone else.

We enjoyed our lunch and were in carefree moods until we reached Doug's and Phyllis' home and saw the cars. Kelley and Jessica had arrived ahead of us.

"What the fuck," I mumbled under my breath. We could either leave now or make the best of things. I decided that I didn't want to reschedule just to avoid awkward moments with a former lover and a girl I'd promised to help.

I introduced Cynthia as my girlfriend and Wanda as my assistant. Doug and Phyllis welcomed us to their home. Kelley and Jessica seemed just as confused about me saying Cynthia was my girlfriend as I was about their having been invited. I wondered if Jessica had taken the afternoon off from work in order to be there.

I'd only brought three copies of the business plan. I gave one copy to Doug and one to Phyllis, which she shared with Kelley. For some unknown reason, Jessica accepted the third copy. Cynthia declined the offer to share Jessica's copy, saying that she'd reviewed the plan with me the night before. That was an understatement; we'd reviewed the plan every night of the week.

Being in a room with five females and knowing that I'd had sex with three of them, made me apprehensive. Kelley knew it too, although, from the way she was watching Jessica, I suspected that she thought the count was four.

I opened the files on my laptop and began explaining the details of the plan, but after asking Wanda to field Doug's first questions, I turned the presentation over to her. Aside from Kelley attempting to discredit our assumptions, the questions from Doug and his wife were worthy of dialogue.

I contributed very little to the discussion, Cynthia listened attentively, and Jessica had nothing to say. After an hour of questions and answers, Doug announced that he was ready to apply for a loan from a lending institution. That's when Cynthia began her interrogation.

"Are you sure you're ready? Let's pretend that I'm a loan officer," she said, pausing to let him absorb her offer to give him some practice at applying for a loan.

"Okay," Doug said, letting a confident smirk cross his face.

"How much experience do you have in your chosen career field?"

"Eight years," he answered, proudly.

"How many times have you changed employers in those eight years?"

"I've worked for the same dealership for ten years, but I moved into the parts department eight years ago."

"I'm sure you know that could be a drawback. Experience with only one employer is viewed as a detriment by some loan officers."

"I don't move around; I'm a loyal employee," Doug said, letting his voice show irritation with the line of questioning.

Cynthia's reaction was to get up, like she was going to leave. I got up too, until she put her hand on my cheek and looked into my eyes. We took our seats and Cynthia resumed the interview.

"Some loan officers would react the way I did just now. You need to remember that they may goad an applicant to find out his or her level of tolerance. Showing annoyance at something they ask will not be acceptable."

Doug clearly didn't get it. "No one talks to me that way."

I became alarmed. Did he include customers in that statement? "Doug, she's only trying to help you brush up on your interview technique."

Phyllis tried to sooth her husband's feelings. "Relax, Honey, you're among friends."

"I can't understand some of her questions," he complained.

I had to sympathize with him. I often had trouble understanding her. "That's the luck of the draw, Doug. You can't walk into a bank and demand to speak to a loan officer who pronounces every word distinctly. You've got to concentrate."

He composed himself and mumbled a half-hearted apology. Cynthia resumed the interview.

"I see that you live within your means and have a reserve of thirty thousand dollars. How much are you willing to risk on this new venture?"

Doug looked at his wife before answering. "I don't know. What do you want me to say?"

"Some loan officers will require that you re-mortgage your home and invest most of your savings. How would you feel about investing twenty-five thousand? That would be ten percent of the total amount Wanda has calculated you will need."

Doug and Phyllis looked at each other before reaching agreement. "We wouldn't need to re-mortgage the house?"

Cynthia didn't respond to his question. "I only have one more question. Let's say that after one year in business you've gone through the quarter million dollars, including your own investment. Would you hold out for another three months by going deeper in debt or would you give up and go back to your old job?"

"I would ... give... ," he began, but stopped when we heard a child cry. Phyllis jumped up and went to another part of the house.

"That's all the questions I have for you. You're ready," Cynthia said, sending me a silent message that it was time for us to leave.

"You didn't ask me about parts. I know cars," Doug said, keeping his complaint mild this time.

"Most loan officers won't know enough about cars to ask those questions," Cynthia responded. Doug's response was to frown, like he'd been robbed of the opportunity to demonstrate his knowledge of automobile parts.

I'd packed up my laptop and was considering where Phyllis had put our coats when she came back into the room with a little girl in her arms.

"How adorable!" Cynthia exclaimed, extending her arms to take the child.

Phyllis deposited her daughter in Cynthia's arms and said she needed to attend to the baby.

Doug, Kelley, Jessica and I watched as Cynthia became acquainted with the little girl, asking her name, how old she was and if she'd had a good nap, none of which the child was able to answer.

It was clear to me that Kelley and Jessica wanted nothing to do with the kid, and Doug looked pleased to have a willing visitor hold her. Wanda was remotely detached and I was equally happy that the job did not fall to me. Even after Phyllis returned with the baby, Cynthia continued to hold the little girl.

Phyllis told Cynthia that her daughter's name was Lillie and the baby's name was Douglas, Junior.

Eventfully, Lillie began to fidget and Cynthia was forced to put her down. She walked around, enjoying the attention she was receiving.

"Our work here is done," I said, signaling that it was time to leave.

Jessica caught my attention. "Sammy, when are we going back to the ice cream shop for another talk?"

"I don't know. We're busy on Monday and Tuesday night. I'll call you," I said, and watched her smile of satisfaction.

Phyllis handed the baby to Doug and went to get our coats. Cynthia continued to watch Lillie, even as I helped her with her coat.

As we said goodbye, Phyllis saw us to the door and thanked us for coming. Doug seemed more consumed with bouncing his young son on his lap than noticing that we were leaving.

I was fuming at Doug, but held my tongue until we were dropping Wanda off at her condo and she invited us inside. Thinking that she needed to know how upset I was, I accepted her invitation without consulting Cynthia.

"What a fucking jerk. He has no idea how much time and effort you put into the business plan," I said to Wanda as soon as we were inside. Cynthia was looking at the furniture and decorations. I helped her with her coat, but when Wanda offered to take it, I told her that we would not stay long.

"Don't worry about my feelings, Sammy. He had no idea how helpful Cynthia's interview was either," Wanda observed.

If Cynthia heard us venting, she didn't respond. All she could talk about was the little girl. "Isn't Lillie a sweet child?" she said.