Chapter 17: The Calm

Interlude: 25^th Anniversary

Cindy:

They call Wednesday "Hump Day." Mom remembers it as a transition day. Dad calls it "The Amish Invasion." Aunt Jo says it was the first day she thought of what she would do after school. I have trouble believing that one. Aunt Francine flew to California—and back.

Sean:

It was bound to happen. I should have anticipated it in more depth. I distinctly remembered telling Sheila that she would be famous in her own name, but that was all I did. Blessed Jesus, I had no idea what was coming.

Wednesday morning dawned with another case of lips on my cock. While I could get used to this, I already had a foreboding. Earlier, my foreboding had to do with the wedding. I anticipated a big turnout. That concern had been adequately addressed. That morning I had a different premonition. As I said, I have learned to listen to my feelings.

So, hard as it was, I stopped Sheila in the middle of a blow job and warned her that the proverbial shit was about to hit the fan. To Sheila's credit, she accepted this as Gospel. Thank God. Lord only knows where we would have wound up otherwise.

Sheila and I adjourned to the shower. I shampooed her hair and told her about my gut and its feelings. Once I was finished, Sheila turned to me, thanked me, kissed me soundly, then left me alone in the shower. At the time, I was a bit put out. Now I am extremely grateful. I listened to my gut. Sheila acted.

In hindsight, it is all obvious. My catalog went out bearing both the names Mistress Cynthia and Sheila Schwartz. If anyone wanted to look for both, there was a chance that person would look for either. If you looked for Sheila Schwartz, you would get a twelve year old review of her Lincoln Center performance and our wedding announcement. Guess which the normal misfit would follow up.

To be sure, not all the attention was unwelcome. It is rather flattering if a bridal magazine wants to cover your wedding or if a major film company wants a new look at some old film. However, there were a lot of people that focused on Mistress Cynthia. That kind of attention Sheila could do without.

Regardless of all that, Wednesday morning started rather tamely, sans fiancée. I showered, had my usual breakfast and went to the office completely unaware of what was coming. The morning was consumed with the first reactions to our catalog, which were not unexpected. Nothing really hit my radar til Helen bounced me a query from Columbia Pictures. Even that I did not consider a problem. Instead, I had Legal set up a division of Digital Arts, so that I could make Sheila the VP in charge.

Of all my quick reactions that year, that one turned out the best.

Sheila:

I woke with a sick feeling. That did not stop me from sucking on Sean's prick, but I was not enjoying it. When Sean related similar fears, I was out of there like a shot. Only later did I think of how I left him half staff. I resolved to make things up to him later.

My first reaction was that I had overreacted. I had Gerald start tracking my names: real and assumed. All that had turned up so far was a TV spot from Francine's restaurant and a rather nice write up on a bondage blog. If I ever met davidspet, she would get a free session. I rather envied David, until I thought of what Christine had done for me. My submissive trumped his every time.

So, it was with a feeling of unease that I went to inspect the preparations. To say I was stunned diminishes the point. Various people had taken my half baked ideas and run with them. My quiet ball for 50 had been expanded into a full scale carnival for several hundred—complete with jugglers and clowns. Even that did not cover things. I was told of an expected army, excuse the expression, of Amish, to be arriving later that day. Almost the only thing left was my idea of using a floating altar.

Naturally, I emailed Helen. One does not call Helen and expect a response. Her response to my emails was that the local paper had caught wind of the preparations and wanted an interview. Rather than that, I told Helen to refer them to the catering staff. Helen agreed, but told me not to expect them to be satisfied. I told her that Justin was covering the ceremony and that he could supply them with all the pictures they wanted. Helen thought that might go over a bit better.

That done, I was able to focus on what had been done to the various rooms of the house. That was where I met Siobhan and Christine. Siobhan immediately apologized for not expanding Christine's abilities in the area of cunnilingus. I waved that aside, wanting a report from Christine. I swear to G_d, Christine gave me a thumbs up.

That made me look at Siobhan, who leaned forward. "I wiped off the dried blood and applied aloe and disinfectant. How in hell did you not break the skin?" That was enough for me. Siobhan and I embraced. Then she said, "I told her she was worthy of you. Until I said that, she would not cry." I wanted to cry at that, but it was the wrong time.

Instead, I pulled out my phone and called Gerald. "Good morning. How has your morning been so far."

Phone: Ma'am, I have seen worse days, but there are clouds on the horizon. Uh oh.

"Gerald, I hope this is not too far below your pay grade, but I want you to organize a cleanup party for my studio. They will need a lot of garment boxes. I will send CC along to keep an eye on things. Do not use more than two of your people. Take a crew of Sean's temps instead. Just have them box things and bring them here. I refer you to Spider Robinson for methodology. Clear?"

Phone: Ma'am, I would feel better if I could control the people involved a little more closely.

"Fine. One moment." I turned to Siobhan. "Pick out two of your people. I want to send them to my studio to pack up the costumes." Back to Gerald, "I am asking Siobhan to choose two of her grad students. With two of your people and Christine, that ought to be enough. Go ahead and pack up the lockers while you are at it. We need that area rendered harmless, or close to it. Clear?"

Phone: Two of mine, two of Miss Jo's and Christine. Empty the lockers and the wardrobe. Return contents to base, packed for storage. Mission understood. Hooyah.

I handed the phone to Siobhan. She said, "Gerald, you are such a softy." I could hear him blushing. I swear. Siobhan told him who to pick up and where to go for the boxes. It was all very businesslike, except for the smile twitching at Siobhan's face. I held hold firmly to my interior yente. Either Siobhan and Gerald did, or they did not. I would do nothing more than put them in the same room occasionally.

Or Ballroom. Siobhan would be wearing a tux to the wedding, but we could get her a formal for the dance. Like Sean, she had a pale complexion with hints of red. Lavender would suit her well and it would contrast nicely with Army dress greens. It gave me something to think about while other people worked.

More to the moment, I had Christine to consider. I gave her a long overdue hug. I reminded her that we had a session scheduled with Jason and Richard. Then, I brought her up to date on what I needed done with the costumes and props. Christine merely nodded, as if it were the most natural request in the world. Perhaps to her it was. After Siobhan got off my phone, she went in search of her grad students while Christine and I headed for the studio.

I did not hear about my new role as Vice President for several hours.

Francine:

I hate waking up alone. I have been relentlessly single for well over a decade. Had I wished, there were several marriage offers and other relationships that might have resulted in one. None were what I wanted. However, I still missed waking up next to a warm body.

That morning I dragged myself out of bed before 10 AM and went to the Waffle House to get a small refuel. There were a couple of fans, but I do not attract them like I used to. I thought about Sheila, her change in life and her soon to be expected baby. I realized that I had passed a crossroads and had not realized it. I sighed a little. The days of Francine Martel, Broadway Diva, ended with nothing more than that.

Instead, the days of Francine Martel, producer and mogul began. I toasted the event with coffee. The man at the next table saw the gesture and toasted back. It was an omen if I wanted one. My first act was to see about office space near Broadway. That would take days, but I started the ball rolling. The second was to start assembling a staff. That would take even longer. I started making a list of people that already worked for me in some capacity. I would choose a manager. He/she could do the hiring.

While I was eating, I had a call back on my business line. One of my Hollywood contacts wanted more details on what Sheila did. I knew talent would find an out. Then I checked the time: 9:43 AM. That was 6:43 AM in California. He was up early, or had been up all night. Either way, he was a motivated potential client.

I told him that I would pass along his name, but warned him that Sheila's book was already full. That was expected. Even if she had not had a client all year, Hollywood people would expect her to claim a full schedule. So, I reinforced it. I told him that she had just wrapped a big project and was taking a week to relocate the business. That was only the truth.

Unfortunately, he was very motivated. So, I told him that we were both involved in a local wedding, someone I had dated in high school. I would sneak his name in, but that she was seriously booked for the next ten days. To make him work for it, I told him to send me three high resolution images and some idea what he wanted. I warned him that I called in my favors. Anything I wanted was good. He was as bad as CC in that regard.

Once I finally got him off the phone, I called Sean's battleaxe secretary. I told her that I was already getting inquiries about Sheila in the context of photo editing. Helen agreed to raise the issue with Sean. In the mean time she gave me real and virtual addresses where things could be forwarded.

It occurred to me that I might need a permanent office somewhere. I had at least five offices already, but they were really just mail dumps. If I was going to get serious about the production side, I needed an office with live people in it. It would give me something to do while I waited for Sheila's bash. I was at arm's length and I could tell it was shaping into a memorable party. Blessed Mary only knew what was going on under the roof.

Back to the job at hand. I needed an office. That raised the question of where. California was easier. I called the LA office of JP Productions and left a message that I would be needing an actual desk and secretary. Out west, residential property would be the hard part. No one would be open yet, but websites are 24/7. Knowing asking prices gives you an idea of where to make your counter offer. Somewhere in the there I semt still money Captain Kirk's way. It had really pissed me off when I learned that Shatner was worth more than I was, but I still used his site.

Damn it Schwartz, you have me putting down roots.

Sean:

The night before, seeing Sheila get out of the car had filled me with conflicting emotions. I was elated to see her, but pissed as hell about the way she looked. I had close to carried her to her apartment the week before, twice, and she looked like more of the same. Then she saw me and life was worth living again. I had barely started to ask a question before she shook me off. I looked hard at Russell. He also shook his head.

In the morning, I went down to get the real scoop. I would probably never get the full story, though Bing found me a nice blog write up of the event. Armed with that, I asked Russell what he could tell me. It was not much.

The women went into a surf and turf restaurant, sending him a nice dinner. After they had eaten, they walked across the parking lot to a club. Only an hour later, a flood of people came out of the club. All were either in animated discussions or texting. That had to be where the blog fit in. Shortly thereafter, Jo came out and directed him to a side entrance. Sheila and CC came out, wearing slippers and robes.

Jo and Francine had a showdown over who would do what. That was something I would pay money to watch. Eventually, they moved some boxes out of the car, so that the seat would slide all the way back. Sheila rode in the seat. CC knelt on the floor at her feet. That was symbolic enough. Then, Russell related the story of the ice cream stop.

When Sheila had thrown control to the winds, she had wanted ice cream. Given her dietary habits, it had to have special significance. Maybe it was because of her dietary habits. Since Sheila was not wearing her foundation, it probably symbolized letting go. Come to think of it, Sheila had not been wearing her foundation when I took her the week before. Oh damn.

What Russell said next calmed me considerably. After they had left the ice cream place, CC had put her hand on Sheila's belly. That could be a reference to the lack of corset or the expected baby, probably both. Sheila had told CC that she, CC, would be her support.

I called Gerald. "Gerald. Sean. Russell has been bringing me up to speed about the drive home. You know the undergarment that Sheila dotes on. Russell tells me that CC will taking its metaphorical place when she has a baby. I think we need to move CC's permanent room up the priority list."

Phone: Good morning to you too. Has Russell told you about the smell? Oh shit. I had a feeling I knew what sort of smell was involved. Sheila is a performer and CC is an exhibitionist.

"You are saying that Russell should be commended for his ability to focus on driving under extreme circumstances. Noted. If I hear a word of it from anyone not currently on site, he and you will both be unemployed. Now, don't you have some Class A's to get dry cleaned?" Russell suddenly looked very sick. Gerald's reaction was different.

Phone: Boss, you need to spend time with your fiancée. Her touch is much better.

"Just remember, Francine Martel will be showing Jo how to dance. Focus Gerald."

Phone: Sir, yes Sir. Gerald was right. I can hold my own at verbal dueling. Sheila buries people before the bout gets started. God, I loved that woman. It was too bad she was engaged, heh, heh.

George drove me to work in the Mercedes. For a while, I did not notice the scent. Then, I had trouble ignoring it. Just how often had Sheila come? When I left the car, I told George not to do anything about the odor. It was something of Sheila's and I treasured it.

As had been the case for several days, I was late arriving at work. I was the boss, so I liked to set a good example, but there were limits. If it became an issue, Helen would tell me. As it was, I suspect that most of my people thought I had good priorities. As a practical matter, business had been slow enough to let me slide.

That was changing. Reactions were starting to roll in on several fronts. The easiest to deal with was the University Chancellor, who was gloating about his new e-book. The measured photographs were evidently well received by the academic community. He wanted to discuss a printed edition. I referred him to Curtis, but it started me thinking about Sheila and her "other" skill.

Much of what Sheila did was dictated by her circumstances. Granted, she had the temperament for it, but she was not a dominatrix at heart. When the time came, I could tell that she would be walk away from her studio, with hardly a glance back. Either Jo or I would be better suited for the full time role of Mistress/Master. What Sheila had done on the side, was who she really was. An idea started perking in my head.

After the early call from the Chancellor, I spent most of the morning dealing with the catalog. In a sense, I had been doing so for weeks, but the after publication issues had a very different feel. Mostly, I was getting congratulations, direct or implied, from people that had seen the pictures. I was able to refer 90% of them to Justin Immons. That left a handful that knew or had investigated Justin's work. They needed a different answer.

It came to a head when Columbia Pictures called. It was Ivan Nevski. I did not know the name, but Helen did her magic and a bio popped up as we were doing introductions. One does not brush off one of the top camera people of a major media company. Instead I hemmed and hawed a bit, til Mr. Nevski began to show genuine impatience. Then I fed him a story and hoped for the best.

I told him that Sheila was not yet officially part of the company. We were creating a new Digital Arts division, which Sheila would head. However, there was a complication—Sheila was engaged to be married. She had done the catalog between other projects, on a contract basis. Because of the wedding, Sheila would not be available for any serious work for a couple of weeks. This was why there had been no roll out and press blitz.

Every word I said could be proven in court. The facts may have been arranged in a manner convenient to misunderstanding, but they were still facts. Mr. Nevski recognized the need to walk softly, which I appreciated. The conversation took half an hour, but it ended with me giving him an email address and the promise that Sheila would look at his proposal. By the time I did so, the email was valid.