The following weeks were difficult not only for Vanessa but for everyone in the office. She was, as one person put it, constantly on the 'war path'. These were periodic moods of hers, and, unknown to her associates and subordinates, always corresponded to those times, when she went 'prowling' and let out her 'Nessa' personality.
In the wake of this past experience, she was more determined than ever to keep 'Nessa' under wraps and just get all that 'shit', as she described it, under control. She had, to use her own words, 'prowled' for the last time.
A part of her mind still insisted that the incident with Dave and his middle aged, rednecked pals was the hottest sexual encounter that she could remember. But she suppressed that kind of knowledge or acknowledgement also. She simply set it aside and went into one of her periodic celibacy periods. (Is how she referred to them.) The result was almost always the same: her energy was put into work and making sure that the work was being done timely and in as correct a fashion as humanly possible.
During those weeks, she ruled her roost at work and made constant demands on the crew that worked under her. She got results also! People tiptoed around her and tried to anticipate what was wanted or needed, in order to not come under her withering stare.
Her newly shaved head only leant to the whole mystique. It made her look more formidable, in a way, and exotic. It simply added to the 'hard assed' image that she was interested in projecting at work.
Part of this syndrome, that had become so normal for Vanessa that she didn't notice how difficult she was being, was brought home to her by her secretary, Gail. It was that time of the morning, when she'd been giving Gail instructions about the day's events. As Gail was leaving the office she ventured, and was perhaps the only one in the office that could get away with it:
"Are you okay, Ms J?"
Vanessa looked up and smiled; she did like Gail very much.
"Why, yes, why?" Vanessa asked.
"You seem to have been so much on edge these past weeks," Gail answered.
Vanessa sucked in a soft breath, realizing that Gail had indeed picked up on the storm and stress within her for the past few weeks, since her latest 'prowl'.
"It's nothing," Vanessa said, with a smile, "Just some personal things, and they are fine now."
"I must say," Gail continued, changing the subject to a more pleasant one,"That those lovely hoop earrings are marvelous with your new look."
Vanessa looked up at Gail a look of inquiry on her face.
"I mean the shaved head look and all; very mysterious, really exotic, and the loop earrings that you've been wearing really add to the look. I like it!"
Vanessa was prodded out of her personal reveries by what Gail had said. She said 'thank you' with a smile and Gail was gone. It was only then that she realized the truth of what Gail had said: she had been wearing those earrings, 'his earrings' every day since she'd gotten them.
"Ohhhh," Vanessa moaned and sat in her chair. She didn't like this; didn't like this at all. She spoke to herself then:
"Ignore the earrings, tomorrow I'll wear different ones; it means nothing, nothing at all."
She sat back in her chair feeling more satisfied that she'd allowed herself that little reverie but had a momentary notion that maybe it was more than the 'nothing' that she proclaimed it to be. She shoved that thought back into the dark closets of her mind as quickly as possible and got on with work.
The next morning Gail greeted her with her customary cheery politeness: "Wearing your loops! I see! Lovely!"
Vanessa tried not to look shocked but when she got into her office, she simply leaned against the door with her hand over her eyes.
"Done it again, girl!" she said severely to herself. "Wearing his earrings! Damn it! Straighten up!"
But the major shock for Vanessa was still to come that day. It was in the afternoon that Gail buzzed Vanessa on the intercom to tell her that Mr David Ross was there to see her. Vanessa didn't immediately recognize the name but thought that he might be a sales rep, since some of her suppliers had indicated that they'd be sending new reps to see her.
She got up from her desk and walked forward, as the door opened and Dave from her 'Nessa' evening encounter entered her office. Vanessa was too shocked to say anything right away.
He stood and let the shock settle in, only smiling at her.
Finally, Vanessa pushed her shock away and said softly:
She hesitated as he looked at her, still smiling, and seemed to be enjoying her discomfiture.
"I'm sorry," she said, finally, pushing a smile onto her face. "Nice to see you ... er ... sir?"
She realized immediately what she said and how she was simply lapsing into the old way. She tired to shake it off but he spoke up then, not giving her a chance.
"Very lovely, Nessa, very pretty, exotic even, with the gorgeous bald head and the looped earrings. Nessa, you are beauty itself."
"Thank you, sir!" she said, without thinking and immediately got angry.
"Why are you hear? I don't want to do this!" she said all in one breath.
Dave just smiled at the agitated woman, who was looking caged in her own office just then.
"But I think that you do! Maybe not enough right now but the feeling will grow and you'll want to act on the feeling. Nessa, I can guarantee that."
"Don't call me that!" she rasped at him.
His eyes flashed and he barked at her: "Shall I slap you, girl? You think you're okay, protected here in your office? Do you want me to out your little 'Nessa' games to all your co-workers."
Vanessa lost ground immediately. She realized, quickly, that it wasn't so much his threats, although they were potent, but the very tone of his voice. She was getting lost in it, losing ground.
"Ohhh," she wailed, her face in her hands then, "I don't want to do this, I don't, I don't!"
"Not now, pretty Nessa, now just now but I guarantee that you will want to do it, and soon, and, when you do, you'll need to find 'Massa Dave'! Won't you?"
He waited for a moment and said to her softly: "Now, Nessa, if you don't answer Massa Dave right now, I'm going to slap you and humiliate you in front of your pretty secretary. You don't want that, do you, honey?"
"No, Massa Dave," she said softly, losing the battle, and so quickly, all her reserve and resolutions gone that quickly, "Dis nigger don't want dat no how, Massa Dave!"
"Better!" he said to her. "But we don't want that now; we don't want that Nessa here now; it's not why I'm here. So, dear, take a moment, compose yourself, we both know what just happened, don't we?"
"Yes, Massa Dave, we does!" she said in her broad patois, making him smile broadly.
He reached out and touched her cheek; she flinched.
"No, no, sweet love, not now; we're not going to hurt our Nessa; that time might be coming, oh, yes, Nessa, we both know that but we're not going to hurt our Nessa now."
Vanessa stood like the proverbial animal in the car's headlights. She was shocked right to her core that he'd penetrated her defenses so quickly and so completely. She had thought that she was immune now, under control but realized, in a flash, that the storm and stress of the past two weeks were only barely hiding 'Nessa', who, it seemed, was lurking just below the surface, just below the surface.
"Yes, Massa Dave," she said softly, "It comin'; I knows that, jes knows that!"
"Good, Nessa," he went on, "Then we've got that settled; but let me tell you why I'm here."
She was paying close attention, since she really didn't know why he was there, or hoped that she didn't.
"When you're all ready, hot and steamed and ready to have a Nessa adventure, I want you to be able to find me. Do you understand, Vanessa?"
His using her name helped to bring her out of the Nessa control a bit but didn't alleviate the total situation at all.
"Yes, sir," she said, in her normal voice.
"So, I'll write down my number and my address for you. You just come around and I'll fit you into my schedule," he said.
"Yes, thank you, sir!" she said, not able to bring herself to use the 'Massa Dave' title, hoping it was a sign that she was regaining control but then Dave, a seeming master at this kind of game, did something that showed where the control really was.
"Now you just unbutton those lovely linen slacks and let them fall to your ankles; don't be a bad girl and try to be stubborn!" he said in an emphatic voice.
Vanessa was both taken aback at that and also outraged. She let out a small squeal of displeasure, however, when she realized that she'd done exactly what he'd told her to do. She had instant tears in her eyes, as she realized that, without even a thought or an objection, beyond the feeling of outrage that she'd felt, she had indeed unbuttoned her linen slacks at the waist band and let them fall to her ankles. She stood there, in front of this commanding man, in her own office, her pants around her ankles and her pearl gray panties showing.
A second before she was able to grab the slacks and right them, retrieving the situation for herself, he spoke again, and she automatically acted again:
"Panties down, Nessa, to your ankle, there's a good girl."
"Yes, Massa Dave," she said, giving in, just giving in.
She hooked her thumbs inside the waist band of her panties and pushed them down, past her knees and calves to her ankles, where they puddled along with her slacks.
"Turn around and bend over a bit, grab the desk," he said softly.
There was no resistance in her any more. She was caught by him, maybe had let herself be caught by him but in any event, she was doing what she was told to do. She assumed that position. He surprised her then by taking out a felt tipped pen and writing on her ass cheeks.
"Here it all is," he said, "My phone number and address. You just come along, when your hot and ready, Nessa, and we'll play some more. You'll like that."
"No," she said in a tiny voice, and he laughed.
"You say your 'no' now, but we both know honey that you will do it; the time will come and you'll be as hot as a pistol and you'll want to play the games again with 'Massa Dave'. I'll have some special surprises for you, when you do."
She croaked out a soft 'no' again but knew, as he did, that it wasn't really what she was feeling.
"So, look what I've done," Dave went on. "You will either have to have that lovely secretary of yours read off my number and address from your pretty, black ass or you'll have to do the double mirror trick. I wonder which one..."
She was trembling a bit, once he was finished writing.
"I have to go now," he said, "But first, call that secretary on the intercom and send her someplace. Do it, Nessa."
Vanessa bent over the desk a little farther, and buzzed Gail. She had no resistance left. She'd given in to him, was sick about it but realized that it had happened.
"Gail," she said softly, "Would you please go and get me a cup of coffee? You know how I like it."
"Yes, ma'am," Gail said.
"Now," Dave went on. "I'm just going to give you something to hold you over, and for being such a good girl."
Before she could react, he gave her a tremendous slap on the ass, followed by four more. She put her mouth against her arm and shrieked into her arm, as he slapped her naked ass.
"That'll have to do, until you're ready and come to visit me. Come anytime. If I'm busy, I'll just give you someplace to wait for me."
Saying that, he reached up and kissed her on the cheek, whispering as he did:
"Vanessa, you are the most beautiful of the beautiful!"
"Thank you, Master Dave," she said in her own voice.
"Now, when I'm gone," he went on, "You just shuffle into the bathroom and look at the decorations on your lovely ass. Don't you dare pull up your panties or your pants, until you've done that."
"I won't," she said, and she heard him leave.
It was a sign of her frame of mind that she didn't, when he'd gone, pull her pants or panties up. As he'd told her, she shuffled along the length of the office to the bathroom, the panties and puddled pants impeding her every step. She felt foolish but didn't even think of not doing it that way.
When she got into the bathroom, she looked at her ass in the full length mirror and saw the writing. She knew immediately that she'd use two mirrors to decode it and get the number and the address right. She did that before she had any time to change her mind.
She shocked herself right them by almost automatically reaching her finger down and pushing them past her pubic hair into her pussy. She let out a huge sigh, realizing what she was doing and stopped.
She was on the verge of tears, when she heard Gail's voice:
"Boss? Ms J?"
"Yes, hon," Vanessa said, struggling for normalcy. She righted her panties and her slacks and then flushed the toilet before she went out.
"Sales Rep?" Gail asked pleasantly.
"No," Vanessa said, "Old friend, good to see him. Thank you for the coffee."
When Gail was gone back into her own office, Vanessa took the coffee into the bathroom. She knew that she could use the mirror from her purse and the floor length one in the bathroom. She never even thought of not getting the phone number and the address from her ass.
It took her about ten minutes but she finally managed to get the information. She used a handy wipe then, that was there by the sink but noticed that the writing wouldn't come off so easily. She sighed and left it there, determined not to think about it any more.
A little inner voice reminded her at that point that there was no way that she wouldn't think about Dave's visit. It would be there to haunt her, and, the voice whispered, for her to use.
She put her hands over her ears and refused to listen any more.
Gail interrupted her then saying that she had the end of the month stats for Vanessa to review. When she was in the office she looked at Vanessa and said:
"Are you okay? You don't look well."
Vanessa smiled at the loveliness of Gail's concern:
"Just a little tired is all, I think."
Gail nodded and replied: "Maybe you should have a short day today? We're pretty much caught up around here just now."
Vanessa smiled at her lovely secretary, more of an assistant than anything else, and said:
"Yes, I think maybe you're right, Gail. Thank you for the concern."
She hugged Gail and then went about gathering anything that had to be taken home with her.
"Call me, if you need at all," she told Gail, as she was leaving the office.
"Will do, Boss!" Gail said brightly, "But we're okay here, I believe. See you tomorrow."
As she left, Vanessa felt that Gail's concern might just have been the correct one for the day. An early day sounded like such a nice idea. Her mind was pretty much at ease, as she left the building, heading for her car in the parking garage.
Vanessa found herself releasing from her mind the many various concerns that were work concerns about tasks, reports and work to be done, farmed out, assigned and checked on. It was a pleasant feeling to let those things go.
It was only after she'd gotten her car and was on the way home that other ideas and concerns began to crowd her mind. Unbidden, almost out of nowhere, came the remembrance of the visit from "Master Dave". Vanessa even surprised herself with that form of address for him.
"Get a grip, girl!" she said out loud to herself.
But the unbidden answer came back to her: "It's who he is, nigger!"
It was like a slap in the face, and showed Vanessa that the idea of leaving work behind to have leisure for herself might not just now be the best idea. She attempted to push the idea of dealing with "Dave", making the effort to not call him "Master Dave", out of her mind altogether, but it lingered there. As she cruised home, her mind trotted out the picture of her, without complaint or gainsaying, releasing the waist band of her slacks and letting them fall to her ankles, exposing her panties to 'Master Dave'. It was suddenly there and Vanessa could feel herself becoming wet at the gusset of her panties, in reaction to the scene.
"Oh dear!" she said, and her hand moved involuntarily to her thigh and just between them.
Vanessa shook her head and said a loud: "Stop it!" to bring herself around and began to concentrate only on her driving and the route that she was taking homeward.
"Gotta get this junk out of my mind," she said to herself severely. "Just out of my mind."
(The often insistent inner voice put in its own two cents at that point: "Got his writin' on yo' black ass, girl!") Vanessa moaned and said, again out loud: "Go away, Nessa; you're not wanted here!"
Only to be answered quickly: "Nigger gal doan know what's good for her! Dat Massa Dave is good as gold for her, jes good as gold!"
Vanessa snapped on the radio to try to drive the voice from her mind. She was determined not to sink into all that shit again. But her determination was only met with the still insistent inner voice: "You hope!"
"Yes," Vanessa said out loud then, "I hope."
She could immediately here the voice of her inner Nessa laughing, almost cackling at Vanessa's vain hope.
At home she decided on a glass of wine, not too usual for her, and a hot bath. With a huge sigh, Vanessa sank down into the bubbly, hot water and let it surround her, caress her skin and sooth herself. She reached off to the side and took the fluted wine glass and took a sip of the sweet, white Rhine wine, and simply thought.
She wasn't trying now to censor her thoughts, just let them happen. She knew that this might just be dangerous, but she was doing it anyway.
Her mind was calm and fairly blank for a while, and then the thoughts, images began to creep in. Unlike her time at the office, she was alone now, relaxing and allowing the thoughts to come, if they would.
Her mind was flooded with those images, and they were, indeed, images of that evening at Master Dave's. Her thinking was crowded with the images of her trying to get away, those middle aged men with the white tee shirts and confederate flags, and erections, waiting for her, surprising her! Such were followed by the image of her being toted like an animal, her arms and legs fixed to the pole land her naked and fearful. The feeling was delicious, dangerously delicious for Vanessa, and before she knew what she was doing, her fingers were entwined in her pubic hair.
She let out a loud moaning breath, when her fingers penetrated her vagina and found their goal: "Awwwwwwww!"
The insistent alien voice was back and talking to her but this time, with the bath and the wine and the solitude, she was listening:
"Like those things, girl? Like them? Think of them! Taste them! Be them! Do them! It's the way you likes to be, our Nessa! Jes' the way you likes to be!"
The language trailed off into that awful slave sounding patois and Vanessa just listened to the voice and the slangy words and played with herself, one hand busy with her pussy and the other fiercely pinching a nipple.
She came with a shout! And only then fully realized how she'd given herself over to the enjoyment of those dirty images, of her sucking cock, being beaten, being fucked, pissed on! With a throaty cry she came to the realization and pushed it all away:
"God damn it!" she almost shouted. "Get a fucking grip, Vanessa! You're not going to do that shit. Just not!"
And then, realizing that she not only had done it, but enjoyed it a great deal, she wept into her hands, long and hard. She thought at one point that she might even be sick from what she'd just done, what she'd just allowed but she fought that and was okay.
She got out of the tub and decided to go out to dinner, to be in a crowded place, where she wouldn't be alone with these dirty thoughts.
Her evening went fine but it was a struggle. She was fine and in control through most of the evening, at least the earlier part of the evening. She forced herself to pay no attention to the disgusting pull of her fantasies. She was fine, that is, until she undressed for bed, and then she saw, casually glancing in a mirror, the writing on her ass. Saw it! It was there and the reality of it took her by storm.
"Oh, god!" she wailed, "What am I going to do."
She got an insistent answer to that question and without even thinking about it again, she picked up the phone and made the call. Still naked, breathing hard.
Dave answered and without any preliminaries she announced:
"I'm naked now, Master Dave, just naked and I want to thank you for writing on me."
"Writing where on you?" he asked softly.
"For writing on my ass, on my naked ass!" she said, knowing what he wanted to hear.
"What kind of ass?" he asked further.
She gave in and went on: "For writing on my naked black, nigger ass!"
"Thank you, Master Dave," she said and struggled to finish: "But I'm not ready yet."
"I know that, Nessa, but you will be; you fight it, girl, but know that you're going to lose and you'll come to me. Know that."
"I'll try not to," she said, the determination rising in her again. "I'll try. Good night ... Master Dave." She fairly forced herself to ring off that way, and, when she was done, sat, naked in her bedroom chair and cried her grief, and her longing ... longing to be that dirty, dirty, sexy cock slave Nessa again!"
She woke quickly and glancing at the clock saw that it was 1:15 AM. She stirred and was restless, realizing the heat that was rising in her. There were simply times, and Vanessa never knew if it was from hormones, her thoughts and fantasies or what but she would wake in the middle of the night with the lust on her so powerfully that she could hardly stand it. But there was this difference now. In the past there was nothing to do but search the net, disgrace herself in chat rooms and fantasy sights that catered to her desire to be a slave to white cock. But now he was there and, without a forethought, she dialed his number.
She caught herself just in time. It had only rung once and with a loud sob she slammed down the phone, her fingers already entwined in the hair of her pussy.
"Damn you, Nessa!" she growled, "Damn you!"
Then the phone rang, and she was as caught, instantly, as any animal in a trap. She hesitated only to the second ring and picked it up.
"Nessa!" his commanding voice said.
"Yes, Massa Dave," she said, "I'se so sorry to have bothered you."
"Feeling hot, Nessa?" he said quietly.
"Yas, suh," she drawled, "Feeling that night time heat, when dis Nessa wants what she wants, and den dis dumb nigger gal be botherin' you."
"We'll sort that out the next time we meet," he said.
"Too true, Massa Dave," she replied, "And dis gal needs to have dat black ass wupped!"
"Yes, Nessa," he said quietly, "We'll take care of that."
"You ... you goan ta hep me out here, Massa Dave?" she asked quietly. "Got dis big lust on me and jes playin' with ma coochie ain't seemin' enough."
He gave her instructions then. She went to the computer, as he told her, the phone still in her hand, and turned on the chat program. When he appeared on the computer screen, she said in delight:
"Deres ma Massa Dave! Gonna hep dis bad nigger gal out now."
"Show yourself, Nessa," he said, and she posed for him, doing everything that she told him to do. She stood showing her naked front and then turned and showed her ass. When he told her, she bent from the waist to emphasize her ass cheeks. She reached around, glad she couldn't see him at the time, and with her hands separated her ass cheeks to show her pink ass hole.
"Does you like, Massa Dave?"
"Oh, yes, my Nessa! I like. Now, tell me, girl, do you have any toys there?"
She hesitated only a few seconds, when he said: "You'll get yourself more slaps, if you don't do what you're told here, girl!"
"Yes, Massa," she drawled, "And I'se goan to deserve those slaps; I got this malcom here with me, I calls it."
"Get it," he said, "Get your malcom."
She went off and came back with a more than life sized replica of a white man's cock and balls. It was stiff in erect form and a good eight inches long.
"Dis my malcom," she said softly.
"Put it in your mouth, Nessa; begin to suck malcom off," was his next order and she obeyed him right away.
"On your knees, girl! What the hell are you thinking?" he bellowed.
"Ain't thinkin, Massa," is what Nessa said, and scuttled to her knees, keeping her eyes on Dave, as she sucked more and more of the large white cock into her mouth.
"Nice, girl," he said.
"Yes, Massa," she answered.
"But not as nice as a room full of cocks to suck, is it, Nessa?" he asked.
"No, Massa Dave, dat what dis gal goan to want ta have agin! Dat's for sure, Massa Dave."
"Suck on it, Nessa," he ordered and she worked at sucking on the fake cock, getting more and more wound up in her sucking.
"Now, girl," he said interrupting her, "Set it on a stool and sit on it, fuck yourself with it now."
She moved, got a stool and gingerly, a smile spreading across her face, sat on the fake, erect white cock.
"Oh, yesssss," she crooned, "Not like dat Massa Dave's cock in my coochie but so nice, soooo nice!"
"Bring yourself now, girl, while I watch," her ordered and she became really active, soon enough, wailing her way into her orgasm.
She slumped to her knees, when she was finished.
"Take the cock," he said, "Lick it clean, Nessa, like a good girl."
"Goan do dat now, Massa, jes as you says!" she replied, watching Dave's contented face, as she licked her own wetness off of the rubber cock.
She sat there, once she was finished with malcom and he spoke to her:
"Very nice, Nessa; you're getting ready and will be soon. I want you to think about this, all of this; I want you to think about the fact that there are some issues that we have to work out. I want you to understand that you'll need to come to me soon and we'll work out those issues and you can play again. Do you understand, Nessa?"
"Ya, suh," she drawled, "Dis gal understands."
"Okay then," he went on, "I want you to call me from your office one day this week. I want Vanessa to call me and say to me simply: 'I understand.' Not Nessa, Vanessa. Is that clear, girl?"
"Ya, suh," she said, "Clear as can be, Massa Dave, and dis nigger gal wants to thank you for puttin' up wid this no acount gal tonight."
"You're welcome, Nessa; don't forget to have Vanessa call me!" he said softly.
"No, suh, won't, jes won't forget dat!" Nessa said and he was gone.
She went to the shower, getting herself a glass of wine first. As the water poured down over her, she shook with the after effects, the powerful longing that, she knew, was only partially satisfied but the misery of it swept over her and she wept as she went back to bed.
She felt almost like she had a hangover the next day. Early on, during the day, she simply pushed it from her mind, determined to take a little time later to think it through a bit.
These moods normally radiated to those who worked with her and in her offices, and the results were normally fairly positive. Things went well, although it was a busy day, affording Vanessa little time for her personal agenda.
It was early afternoon before she had some time. She'd had a session with Gail to go over the things that were pressing and the reports on work being done were pretty satisfactory.
"Good," Vanessa said, "I'm going to sit here and veg for just a little."
"The rest will do you good," Gail replied, "You've been pushing at it all day. I'll keep the vultures away from your door for the next half hour."
"Thanks," Vanessa said, "You're, as usual, the best."
Vanessa took the time. She moved from her desk to the alcove in her office where there were comfortable chairs allowing for a different kind of interface, than the traditional desk and chairs in front of the desk.
Gail had come in with a cup of coffee for Vanessa, and she settled in the alcove, overlooking a park to think.
She allowed her mind to wander and the pathway that it chose for the wandering presented her with all of the 'Nessa' events of the recent past. It seemed that her life was a constant struggle between following the fantasies, making them as real for her life as possible, and hating doing that. Vanessa didn't think that she had an answer to that dilemma, that struggle.
Her practical mind suggested that she might look at the current situation and see if there was any part of it that she could find to be positive. She surprised herself with the immediate thought that having a definite, known outlet for her 'Nessa' evenings was indeed far better than the old practice of going out 'prowling' and hoping for the best. From that point of view Vanessa realized that the time with Dave, conflicting though it might be, was more managed and, very probably, safer for her than her former practice, which in this light seemed to be down right irresponsible and dangerous.
She smiled a rueful smile at this train of thought and said to herself:
"You are a sick woman, Vanessa!"
And, although she acknowledged the truth of the statement, in so far as it spoke of her sexual preferences, she also acknowledged the basic truth of the fact that doing such things, dirty things, 'Nessa' things was better within the framework that she'd currently arrived at.
She felt better for the thought, realizing that she still wasn't prepared to simply give in to that kind of existence as a way of life for her, all the time. She was still determined to keep 'Nessa' at bay, as much as possible, a course of action with which she had various degrees of success over time periods.
But with the thought in mind, she reached for the phone and made the call that had been implanted in her mind, and, she knew, was necessary.
He answered the call quickly.
"Mr Ross," she said softly, "This is Vanessa J."
He sounded pleased. "Ms J, how good of you to call."
"I wanted to say to you that 'I understand!'" she continued, knowing he would know what she meant, and, she hoped, appreciate it.
"Yes, yes," he said, "I thought that you would; I was counting on you."
"Yes," she said hesitating.
"Vanessa," he asked then, "Anything else?"
"Yes," she said, "I wish to also express my gratitude to you for seeing that these little scenes, uh ... adventures, if I can call them that, are done with my safety in mind. I appreciate that."
"Well, aren't you nice!" he said to her then, "Thank you for saying so; I do pride myself in making that one of the main points for such 'adventures' as you call them."
"Sir," she went on, "I'm not ... un ... ready just now; I still have some thinking to do, as you might imagine."
"But you will be, I'm sure of it," he said, cutting across her declaration.
"Yes," she went on, "Well, I'm not sure when I'll be ready for that kind of thing again."
"I understand completely," he said, "You just come out here, when you're ready and, if I'm busy, I'll give you a place to wait"
"Thank you, sir, for your kindness," she said softly.
"We'll be in touch, Vanessa," he said ringing off.
She put the phone down and leaned back in the chair, trying to assess how she felt now. She realized that she as much as pledged him more 'Nessa' time, and she wasn't sure that she felt very good about it. But a part of her, a part of her mind, realized that she'd shifted just a bit her comfort zone about this and that part of it was fine. She also decided that she'd do without 'Nessa' for a while, just put her on the back burner, so to speak.
It was then that Gail interrupted her with some things that shouldn't wait. But by then Vanessa was ready for whatever was coming her way. She'd at least, with the call to Dave, gotten a handle for now on 'Nessa' and her wildness.
"You look pleased," Gail said.
"Oh, just organizing my stuff, personal stuff," she answered, "It helps."
"Well, good for you!" Gail said as she put on the desks the items that Vanessa needed to look into.
Almost as if fate were seconding the message, toward the middle of the afternoon, Gail announced that Mr Dave Ross was there to see her.
Vanessa found herself somehow pleased that he was there, and asked that he be shown in.
"Ms. Vanessa!" he said, entering the office, and he was carrying a bouquet of roses, which he held out for her.
Vanessa was pleased. "Why, Mr Dave!" she said, her hand going involuntarily to cover her mouth and her eyes filling with tears. "How nice!" she said, taking them.
"Will you have coffee or tea?" Vanessa asked, pointing him to the seating area.
"I can't stay long," Dave said, "I just came on a whim."
"Do you have time for me to speak to you for a bit?" Vanessa asked.
"Well, of course, I do, when you ask me," he answered.
"Do you mind if I have a cup of tea then?" she asked politely, never really losing the sheen of the way that she related to him in other circumstances.
They sat, once the tea was served, he having decided to have a cup also, and she spoke.
"Mr. Dave, I've been thinking today," she began, "I mean about us, about our ... our relationship and the way it played out."
"Yes," he said, smiling and nodding, encouraging her.
"I want to say a word of thanks to you. You see, I am intelligent enough to know that my ... uh ... acting out these fantasies can be a very, very dangerous thing."
"They can, my dear," he said to her, nodding in agreement.
"Well, it's just that, you see, with you, I have a kind of a secure, a safe context. I've never had that before," she went on.
She hesitated and he spoke: "I'm glad, Ms Vanessa, that you recognize the truth of that; it is, after all, certain, when you deal with me."
"Yes, thank you very much," she said, "I appreciate it." She put her hand over top of his, as she said this.
"It's so nice of you, dear, to express yourself this way to me," he said with obvious appreciation.
"I want to add," she said then, "That I don't put any ... uh ... restrictions on our ... uh, interactions; none at all." She gazed at him, when she said that.
"Lovely," he said, "A most welcome and heartening declaration. I will make sure that you do not regret it. I will work to make our encounters always exciting!"
"Thank you, sir," she said, "And for the lovely flowers."
"Lovely flowers for a lovely lady," was his response, kissing her hand, as he rose to go.
She stopped him then: "Please, sir, one more thing."
"Yes," he said, sitting again.
"It's that I need to apologize," she hesitated and he smiled.
"Yes," he said again.
"For the way that I spoke to you at the end of our last ... uh ... time together," she said, struggling but determined.
"You mean: 'Hit me now, hit me now, white boy, and I promise you on the grave of my Momma that I will come for you and I will kill you... '" he said smiling still.
"Yes, sir," she said chagrined.
"It came directly from my loathing for letting myself do that, and I simply projected that loathing on you ... grossly unfair," she whispered.
"We'll deal with that the next time we're together," he said.
She nodded and said: "Yes, we should! And thank you again!"
He left then, kissing her hand again.
She only barely suppressed the desire to go to her knees and kiss his hand, and he seemed to know it, to sense it, smiling broadly as he left her.
"Vanessa, what are you doing?" she whispered, getting no answer, and not really sure why his coming to see her moved her so.
She worked that way for another week, keeping, constantly keeping her 'Nessa' at bay. It seemed that the whole idea of a context for her outings made her less frantic about it.
Then the scene with the special bag being packed for her transformation after work was repeated. Vanessa was less upset by it this time, with the whole issue of danger being reduced. In her mind she was going to 'Massa Dave's'. It was a more simple thing for her. She was apprehensive. She knew that deep down she didn't like being this way anymore now than she had before, although she would certainly admit to herself that the attraction for living out this fantasy was real for her. The fantasy was important; she had a safer place, a safer way to live it out; it seemed better.
She packed, that morning, a short black pleated skirt, her favorite, a white silk blouse that would be belted at the waist with a slim gold belt. Her thigh highs were going to be a smokey gray, her panties and bra matching pearl gray, with lots of lace on the panties. She packed the bag and was ready.
The day seemed to drag on for her, since her mind was constantly on what she'd be doing after work that day. But she, as usual, forced herself to concentrate. It was time for quarterly reports and her perusal of those showed a profitability that was gratifying. She was pleased with those, and they added to the special feeling of the day that she had.
It was almost wrap up time, when Gail entered and asked if there was anything else that Vanessa wanted her to do.
"No, honey," Vanessa said, "You go and enjoy your weekend."
"Plans, Boss?" Gail asked, and Vanessa was pleased that her secretary/assistant couldn't see how readily she blushed at that enquiry.
"Goin' catting about this weekend," Vanessa said with a huge grin.
"Well, aren't you the cat's meow!" Gail said with a grin. "You enjoy and be careful!"
They both laughed at that, although Vanessa especially appreciated the aptness of what Gail had said.
Then she was alone. She closed up and went to the bathroom that was off of her office. She stripped off her work clothes and stepped into the shower, pushing off the intention, the temptation to play with herself.
"You wait, girl," she drawled in Nessa's familiar patois, "You goan be played wid dis night for sure! Dat's what I says!"
Vanessa laughed at herself at that point, and got dressed for her evening.
She approached Dave's place and parked in the lane leading up to the she realized for the first time, very large house. The phrase that she'd used that last time, the lashing out at him, leapt to her mind, and she didn't try to push it away.