Chapter 11: Dancing on the Ceiling

Interlude: 25^th Anniversary

Cindy:

"Knowing both my Dad and my Mom, it has always surprised me that Mom never saw it coming. She says that she knew Dad was, her words, 'fond and protective.' Dad is as decisive as you can ask, but usually about as subtle as a fire alarm. Somehow, he bought a centuries old wedding band for her. He even ordered her a wedding dress. You should see it. I outgrew it before I turned 16. Let's just say, custom made for her.

"Mom never had a clue."

Sean:

Friday morning rose with a groan. Thursday night had seen me visit my old friend Jack Daniels. I normally can nurse a bottle for a month, but I was feeling lonely and Jack kept me company. Worse, in the morning I slept through my alarm, so I was late getting to the office. Oddly, Helen did not give me her usual stern eyebrow. Instead she pushed a message folder across my desk.

Inside was a package of envelopes. Three contained checks for services rendered, plus a 20% bonus for quality of work. These went to Justin, Peter and Jason. Justin's envelope also included a nice letter of appreciation. Jason's envelope also included a check for half a day of shooting, at Actor's Guild rates. There was a larger envelope for Sheila. In it was a contract for services as Art Director, a second contract as producer, director and actor for the same scene as Jason, a letter of appreciation and two checks. To Sheila's envelope I added a note saying that CC's salary, with overtime for the photo work, was covered for a month and one of my cards.

Hung over or not, I felt much better. I do not think doling out over $100,000 was ever this satisfying.

Sheila:

Friday was the big day. My work day was light, because I had declined appointments, and rescheduled others, in anticipation of a crunch at the warehouse. It made me wonder how I would pay the light bill, but the concern passed quickly. I had steady income from the gym, even without my clients, and I expected Sean to kick in something. That caused me more concern than the missing clients, since I had no idea what Sean intended to give me. I had put in quite a few hours that week. Knowing Sean, it would be outrageous, like $50 an hour.

Since we had time, I took CC to get breakfast. As we ate, I told her that today would be the last day at the warehouse. That being the case, I anticipated something afterward. What came after that was my concern.

Quite aside from their scene, in the break room the evening before, Jason and CC had hit it off. It was a relationship that might continue for years, if it were properly encouraged. So, I asked CC how she felt about sex with Jason. She smiled, blushed and then turned very red. I told her that I would ask Jason to take her to his hotel room and teach her about sex. I did not tell CC, but I intended to tell Jason to avoid any form of bondage or role playing. He had more than enough experience to pull it off.

Then I took her to Walgreen's and helped her sort through safety equipment: contraceptive gels, sponges and film, and condoms. Fortunately, I knew exactly what kind of equipment Jason carried, so getting the right size condom was easy. People almost never use condoms correctly. Far from killing the mood, a woman rolling a condom onto a man was a very erotic moment. I told CC to take it slow, stroke the penis, then roll on the condom slowly and lovingly.

I went into a great deal of detail that I knew only second hand. It began to dawn on me that I had no personal experience to draw from. All my sex had been either self provided or work related. Even my fantastic moments with Sean, had been role playing. Just thinking about my time with Sean caused a burn that was not going to be easy to put out.

Once back at the gym, I bought a couple of new items for CC, then sent her off to stretch and jump with the teeny boppers. I went back through the rabbit hole, looking for Long John, and found a pair of deliveries in the package drop. Hands shaking in anticipation, I ripped the boxes open. They did not contain everything I needed, but the timed-release cuffs and computer controlled vibrating dildo were an excellent start. I had almost 30 minutes before my first appointment. That gave me time to do something basic, like their default settings.

I went to my personal laptop and loaded the software while clothes came off. All I had in the closet were wrist protectors, Velcro straps and Sean's gag. I started with the gag, then the wrist protectors. Then I ran to the equipment locker and grabbed some nipple clamps, a large butt plug and a blindfold. I ran back to the PC, strapped my ankles to my thighs, pushed the butt plug in, dry, set the timer on the handcuffs, screwed on the nipple clamps, set one of the cuffs, turned the dildo on, checked everything quickly, pulled down the blindfold, and paused for a deep breath.

Then I reached behind the chair, found the other cuff and locked it on my free wrist. Only then did I consider what I had done. Ouch. Nipple clamps were a new thing for me. Deep breath. Go with the burn. Pain is weakness leaving the body.

I squirmed to settle the base of the butt plug beneath my heels and realized that I was almost in Second Position. That was fixable. The chain on the cuffs was long enough to allow me to grasp my elbows. This I did, then corrected posture. I could understand why Tess found this position so calming. She and I could do yoga together. Sharon had a good reputation, but I did not really know her. This would be a good opportunity. Then, the dildo started.

The first cycle was a slow pulse: buzz for half a second, pause for a second and a half. It was exciting and maddening, but soon I settled into the rhythm. This week was bringing so many insights to what my clients looked for in their sessions. I could see why Tess considered this to be a lifestyle choice. She and I had a lot in common on one level. It was so easy to accept the restraints and anticipate the sensations, but it was a seductive trap. There was a life out there and things to build. Then, the dildo changed cycles.

The next cycle was a random selection: long buzz, short pause; several short buzzes and short pauses, continuous low power buzz, building to a long pause; etc. It was like life. Everything was new, every week. One had to adjust, if the work was going to get done. So I rode this cycle. It was like costuming for the next session. There was a quick change and a slightly different person walked away. It sometimes seemed I had spent my life changing costumes and stepping into roles.

The cycle changed again. The new cycle was a repetitive run from low intensity to high, without pauses. It resembled a siren for touch. There was something wrong. Everything I had been doing was a role. Even this, my self bondage session, was playing with a new toy. There were adult things to be done.

I broke the scene. This was easier said than done. I had to pull my hands over the top of the chair back amd reach around to release the bands holding my legs together. Then, I could run my cuffed hands under my ass and feet. Once my hands were in front, I could push back the blindfold, turn off the dildo and remove the gag. The cuffs took longer, but there was a key. I almost left the butt plug in, because it seemed appropriate, but I had work to do and someone might notice. In all, it had taken about ten minutes.

Since my next session was in twenty minutes. I had time for a quick shower before changing. The horny burn was still there, but I could work through that. After donning my workout clothes, I went through the rabbit hole, and still had ten minutes to kill. I decided to look in on Sharon, the yoga instructor. When I told her that I wanted to take a class with my protegé, her response shocked me.

She asked, "Why?" I told her that I had never studied yoga, and that I wanted something CC and I could do together. She thought a moment, then took a pose, telling me to mirror her. For about five minutes we went through a dozen poses, holding each of them for a measured time, then slowly shifting to the next one. None were very difficult, and the hold times were short. Finally she dropped into a lotus, which I at least knew by name, and began breathing exercises.

After about a minute of these, she said, "Congratulations. You just passed the final exam for my instructor class, without working up a sweat. Once I tested you on the names of the positions, you could be certified to teach." I was stunned. She continued, "I don't think it is common knowledge, but the senior people here know that you are tight with the GM, and just pose as an hourly. What is really going on?"

My mouth hung open. "I honestly do not know. CC is what I said she is, my new assistant. Yes, I am a familiar with a co-owner in this franchise, but I do a damn good job with my clients here." She was about to speak, when I cut her off. "One of whom is due any minute. But, you're right. Something is off today, and I do not know what." I turned to leave.

She said, "Sheila, I know you do a good job with your clients. Why do you think the waiting list is so long? I won't press now, but if you have something to say, I'll listen."

I fled. There is no other word for it. I did not know Sharon, except as a co-worker, but we had just touched on many things that were very intimate to me. I had not felt so out of control in many years.

Then I saw Sean.

Sean:

Even the best of moods never lasts. Once I had the pay packet in hand, I was soon very nervous. It is one thing to decide to ask a woman to marry you. It is another to actually do it. I was quickly climbing walls. Eventually, I told Helen I was going out for some coffee. She only nodded and winked. Helen winked. I do not think I had been as surprised in years.

I wanted to talk to Sheila. Actually, I wanted a lot more than just talk, but it would do for a start. Failing that, I wanted to be close. I told George to take me to XTreme Fitness. On the way, George filled me in on what was going on in the neighborhood, sort of. It occurred to me, for the thousandth time, that most of my best employees are either annoyingly talkative, or the opposite. George is not talkative.

However, George managed to get across that there were a couple of condemned buildings that would be good building sites, and other warehouses that would be good conversions. No one, at present, was pursuing any of those options, but the basis of a real estate consortium was keeping tabs on the area. XTreme Fitness, as the largest viable business in the area, was an anchor for such plans. Since I happened to know the GM, also co-owner, I had a leg up if I wanted to start a ball rolling. For the first time all week, gears started to turn in my head.

I had George cruise around the area. In my mind, lot after lot became something else. That burned out hulk would become a parking garage. That office building would become loft apartments, with retail space on the ground floor. That weed infested eyesore would become a fenced park. The property I wanted was a complex of railroad buildings, which had once been a rail terminal, warehouse and repair depot. Depending on the availability of the building and adjacent tracks, the possibilities were enormous.

I had George park the car, so that I could go inside the gym. Most of the buildings in the area, were of the same period. I could learn a lot from examining this one. I went inside and asked for the manager: Claudia Johnson. Once I explained that I was interested in real estate in the area, she became very helpful.

Every good manager wants the area around the business to prosper, and Ms. Johnson was a good manager. She pointed out the work that had gone into making the building suitable, but also what they had been able to leave intact. This was shrewd, since it kept the renovation costs down. I was thinking that I needed to commend her to Sheila, when Sheila stepped into view.

I may have only known Sheila a week, but her expression carried a wealth of emotions, few of them good. Then she saw me and her public face went on. Ms. Johnson noticed the connection, and waved Sheila forward.

I told Ms. Johnson that Sheila and I were familiar, and that she had shown me the gym the week before. Sheila should get a commission, if there was one. Ms. Johnson looked interested, and asked Sheila to accompany us to the office. In her turn, Sheila begged off for an incoming session, which satisfied her theoretical boss. When Ms. Johnson turned to go, Sheila gave me the hand signal to call her.

The rest of the interview went quite well. Ms Johnson showed me around the building. She mentioned that there was another tenant in the back, but not what the business was. Then, Ms. Johnson did what I had hoped she would do. She pitched me on a corporate membership. This let her cherish the notion of a sale, which I might provide, and it let me end the interview. I accepted the company literature and left.

Once in the car, I text Sheila:

If that did not get her out of whatever funk she was in, I was at a loss for what else to try. Once back at the office, I called several people in for discussions.

Hours later, I broke for coffee. Lunch had come and gone. The framework of a real estate investment group was in place. Investigations were begun, numbers were being pulled and compiled, lawyers and accountants were consulted, and members of the City Planning Council were informed. In short, a new project kicked off. There was a new sense of purpose, coupled with a sense of relief. Until that day, I had not realized how much the company was on hold during the issues with the auction catalog.

At 3:00 PM, I took the car over to the warehouse. The guys were still working, but their attitude was festive. The end was not only in sight, but drawing close. Moreover, it was truly outstanding work. Even a layman, like myself, could see it. My visit was short. I gave Justin the package of envelopes, but told him not to open them til Sheila was present. I did reassure them that their full negotiated payment was included, which earned a sigh from them all. Then I asked Peter to get me video of everyone opening their envelopes. Coward that I sometimes am, I would not be there.

In the car, on the way back, I received a response from Sheila.

You better be around, you overstuffed teddy bear.

Teddy Bear? Me?

Sheila:

Sean was talking to my senior manager, Claudia Johnson. As the shock of seeing him rolled through me, Claudia noticed the eye contact and waved me over. I put on my best eager employee look and did as I was told. The meeting was short. Sean explained that I had brought him over the week before, and that I should get any commission involved. Claudia, somewhat reluctantly, invited me to sit in. I had a perfectly legitimate client appointment, so we were both spared the embarrassment. I motioned for Sean to call, then went to find Francis, who was late, as usual.

An hour later, I collected CC and went back through the rabbit hole. I inquired if she had any interest in yoga, but that issue headed for a young grave. Once back in the office, I called out for non-fat pizza, and started showing CC the basics of my business software. Two days of working alone must have helped, because she picked it up in good order. Eventually, I gave her a list of things to work on and left her alone. I could recheck everything, but no one works well with someone looking over their shoulder.

Sean had sent me a series of texts.

I text back. You better be around, you overstuffed teddy bear. Then I went to change for my afternoon appointments. Tess worked through the first two, but asked to observe the third. As before, I bound her in Second Position. I added a butt plug, my 14 inch dildo Long John, a gag and nipple clamps. I asked her if this was good enough, or if she wanted some lashes later. Tess nodded eagerly. I was tempted to do some then, but settled for a clamp on her clit.

The session happened to be with Mario, my most addicted pain slut. He usually worked collared, leashed and blindfolded. Remembering Sean's method, I put him on all fours, and had him sniff Tess thoroughly. He could not reach her running cunt, but I removed the nipple clamps, and let him slobber all over her breasts. It was difficult to tell Tess' reaction. Once Mario was finished, I gave each nipple a hard flick with a finger nail and replaced the clamps. That got a reaction, but I chose to ignore it. Tess would already be getting a whipping which should require medical disclosure. Mario, I strapped to the whipping horse and gave a good caning.

After Mario had gone, I released Tess from her bonds and gestured her to the whipping horse, where Mario had just been. I added weights to the nipple and clit clamps. Then, I left to change. My outfit needed to be something easily washable, so I chose a one piece swimsuit. Tess had asked for a whipping, and I intended to make it memorable.

I started with the small lash across her back, ten strokes each side. Then I pulled out a wooden ruler and paddled her feet, with one swat at her sopping cunt. I used the flogger on her buttocks and thighs, occasionally getting a jerk as a strand caught pussy. I removed the weighted clips, seeing her jerk as the circulation returned. Finally, I used the heavy lash, just once, on the length of her back, being careful not to draw blood.

I coiled the lash, showed it to Tess and said, "Tess, this is where it gets serious. Do you want to continue?" Her eyes had been running tears for some time, but then they went wide with shock. I could tell she wanted to say there were no limits, but in fact there were. Whatever drove Mario to seek pain, to the point of permanent damage, was not in Tess. She closed her eyes and gave me a tiny shake of her head.

I untied her from the horse and literally carried her straight to the shower. I was wearing a bathing suit partly for this reason. Once the water was running warm, I put us both into the flow and washed her with a scrubby ball. As her feet became steadier, I wet her hair and washed it with my favorite herbal shampoo. Then I shed the suit and let her return the favor.

Things could have gone on from there, but we had things to do and places to be. We dried and dressed. On the way out, I grabbed some legal documents. As expected, Sean's car was waiting. It was 3:45 PM when we arrived at the warehouse. The mood was vastly different from the one on Monday, or even Thursday. All the major decisions had been made. Most of the work had already been sent to the printers. All that was left were several of the highest profile pages. They had been the subject of much discussion, over the last two days, but that was past. They only needed final approval, from the Art Director, i.e. me. Since I was a rank novice, compared to Justin and Peter, the sign off was a bit surreal.

Once that was done, we would trek down to the cars, go to the printers and tie a ribbon on the package. The mood was not festive, but did not miss it by much. I was not to that point yet. My funk still lingered and I had concerns about CC. She did not have a place at the printer's meeting, but I did not want to leave her alone. With some misgivings, I went to Jason, who would also not be going to the meeting.

"Jason. We have one small piece of unfinished business. I gave Richard and Paul a signed photo of our session, but not you yet. While we are gone, why don't you and CC pick out some possibilities. I still have creative control, so do not go overboard." Jason nodded, a bit wide-eyed. "CC is very inexperienced, so you might give her some pointers. In fact, I want you to give her a lot of pointers."

I turned to look at Jason full on. His respect for what I could do was almost a tangible thing in the room. What I said, Jason would take as law, so I chose my words very carefully. "You have my permission to take her back to your room and teach her how things are between a man and a woman. If she is not a virgin, in the normal sex meaning, she is close to it. I want you to show her how it is done. Keep some distance. Talk her through it. Explain as you go." By then, he was seriously wide-eyed, which made me smile. I had not told him the big surprise.

"I just did a session with her. I will not go into that, but it reached the point where she she asked out." I paused and he slowly nodded. Jason understood just how far down the road of pain that had been. "She came, I do not know how many times, but not the last time. I want you to coax the last one out of her, using only ordinary means. I know this is a lot to ask, but you have skills. Are you willing to try?" Again, he gave me a slow nod, which I returned. Just one week before, that nod would have been unthinkable, because Jason would not have understood the question. I felt a flash of pride for my small part in his education.

That settled, it was back to his prize picture. "I'll be back in a while, and we can go over your choices. Make me proud." I kissed him on the cheek, very deliberately leaving my trademark. There was a flash as Justin shot our picture. That man. I wanted to take him where I had just had Tess, then keep going. As Justin, Peter and I piled into the car, I wondered what it would be like to raise children. One thing was certain, they would not be going into ballet. If they leaned that way, it would be gymnastics. At least then careers were expected to end at 17.

Sean:

My presence at the printers was purely form. I was neither the Art Director, the Photographer nor the Technical Director. Having seen the almost finished product, I fully understood how not-empty those titles were. Even if I did not tell them, the printers were more than willing to fill the gap. I expected the accolades would continue for years.

Having nothing better to do, I watched Sheila. In a way, she was in her element. Glad handing, after a performance, is well known to all good artists. This was a virtuoso performance. On the other hand, I could tell that Sheila did not understand the scale of what they had accomplished. To her, this was civic theater. In reality it was closer to Lincoln Center. Sheila's name, her real name, would soon be known world wide, and she had no clue it was coming. The thought gave me something to smile about during an impromptu ceremony.

On the way out, I caught Justin's eye. He gave me a look that said things were under control. I gave him the go ahead. Sometimes, I think Helen and George had gotten into my blood. I sent Sheila a text. See you at 8. Dress nice, but normal. Albert's is not dinner in the City, but I wanted time to do something afterward, if she was so inclined. I also had a couple of rings in my pocket.

Sheila:

If the mood at the warehouse was just short of festive, the mood at the printer was the other side of the line. The smaller things had been coming in over the last couple of days and everyone was floored by the quality of Justin and Peter's work. We carried a flash drive with the final renderings of the highest valued merchandise, plus the covers, front and back, and the credits page, which I had not seen.

Justin had been taking my picture all week. I was relieved to see that his selection of photo was a candid shot of me bending over a tray of proof shots. It was a day that I had not been wearing my bustier, but the shot minimized my overabundance and made me look studious. Peter's shot was a profile of him working at his image files. Justin did not appear in photograph. Instead, Immon's Images received the credit, with a shot of his candle light tableau, for the Marquis letter. Jason and "Mistress Cynthia" received credit as models, with one of my clients listed as agent. Even CC was credited as technical assistant. Behind it all, was a long shot of me rolling a stocking, while Jason hung from the wall and watched. Peter had managed to place the photo and text boxes in a way that covered Richard and Paul, but did not distract from the shot. I was touched.

Our hosts were more than touched. They were jubilant. As page after page rolled through the viewer, the cheering got louder. Peter saved the cover for last. Rather than cheers, it earned stunned silence. Finally someone said, "Holy Shit." Then pandemonium let loose. In the noise, Harold Johnstead, owner of the printing company and one of my clients, nudged Peter aside and opened a new window on the computer. I could not tell what he had done, but a young man was sent to fetch something. He returned a few minutes later with a short pile of full color, uncut copies of the cover. Harold produced some markers and asked us to sign the work. I had no problem, but Justin and Peter looked slightly shocked.

We each signed all the copies, about a dozen in total. Harold then passed signed copies to Justin, Peter, myself, and three to Sean. Harold then looked at me. He wanted Mistress Cynthia to sign as well. I held up one finger. He moved to do it right then, but I shook him off. I had the wrong lip gloss, and this was too public an event. Sean gave his copies to Justin. I suspected Cynthia would be signing these as well.

On the way back to the warehouse, I inquired about the little ceremony, where we signed the cover pages. Peter said that it was not the usual practice. I understood him to mean that it was almost unheard of. I had realized that the shots turned out well, but I was beginning to think "well" did not cover the issue. I covered my surprise by taking out the tube of red gloss I use for Cynthia's signature. Everyone was very quiet the rest of the way.

We collected Jason and CC and went to the break room. It was odd to think that this would be my last time to see it. Justin collected the six proof pages. Then Jason, CC and Cynthia repeated the signing ceremony. We each received a page, with Justin taking charge of Sean's. Once this was done, Justin held up his hand. We got quiet, and he picked up a thick envelope. From it he pulled several smaller envelopes, which he passed out. Clearly these were the pay checks.

Mine was too fat for just one check. Inside, I found two contracts, with colored paper clips and highlighted places to sign. I laughed. Sean and I had never discussed compensation. He had drawn up two contracts: one for the Art Director and one as Producer, Director and model for the scene with Jason. Glancing over, I saw that Jason also had a contract. Our eyes met and I gave him a wink.

In addition to the contracts, there was a smaller envelope, a note and a card. I picked up the note. It was from Sean, saying that CC's pay was covered for a month, including any overtime for this project. That was sweet. I looked over to CC, and found her staring at the card on the table. It took a moment for the pieces to fit together: CC, Sean, and a card. When it hit me, my own eyes got wide, while CC nodded to me. Sean wanted to offer me another job, and Sean's jobs changed lives. I almost forgot to open the envelope with the checks.

When I did, my heart skipped a beat. The first check was for five figures. The second was bigger. Together they covered my profits for the year to date, with room to spare. I had expected a thousand dollars, maybe two, but not twenty times that. I looked up and saw that Justin and Peter were watching me. Justin turned to Peter and said, "She doesn't understand." Peter shook his head and agreed, "Not a clue." Justin then said, "She will." Peter just nodded. CC had no idea what was going on, but Jason was also nodding.

Then the party broke up. Sean was buying everyone dinner, at the restaurant of their choice. I turned CC over to Jason. Her outfit would do well enough for any restaurant in town. She gave me a shy grin and patted her Walgreen's bag. I had a sudden vision, of that same plastic bag being proudly shown to her grandchildren. My stars, where was my head?

Sean:

I sat in my car, watching as the others piled into the other one. They were going back to the warehouse to open their Christmas presents. I had planned on going back to the office, but I thought the hell with it. I saw a Foot Locker sign and told George to turn in. A few minutes later, I had an outfit suitable for a gym, and a bag to carry it in. I told George that I wanted to work up a sweat. He understood exactly where I was going.

As luck would have it, Ms. Johnson had not left for the day. When she saw me come in, bag in hand, she did what any good salesperson does. She offered a complimentary visit for myself and George. In short order we were in the Nautilus room, pumping iron. George was trying hard not to embarrass me, but he was a Green Beret and kept in shape. I was an Army tech Specialist who had hated PT (physical training).