Contract Modifications

by Tigger
© 2002

 

Part IV

 

Chapter 13: Monday, Monday. . .

"I didn't see you here this weekend," Helen said from the entrance to Ed's cubicle. "Does that mean that the Andrushka campaign concept is ready for my marketing team to review?"

There was more than a hint of disapproval in the tall blonde's syrupy tones. That, coupled with the fact that Ed had not yet had time to unpack his briefcase, had his back up when he turned to face the woman. "I really don't know, Helen," he replied, all easy affability, "Didi was going to take the first-concept stuff to Veronica on Friday. Since I spoke with Veronica on Saturday and that subject did not come up, I will assume that our mutual boss in not unhappy with the product thus far."

Helen resisted reacting to Ed's thrust. "We don't have much time on this one, Ed. We need to be working concurrently on this, and my people do have a better handle on what will and won't sell in the market place."

"Really?" Ed privately wondered how he'd ever made the mistake of thinking this woman was at all attractive. Oh, she was physically beautiful, and she knew all the tricks of her former trade about how to enhance her genetic gifts, but somehow, he did not find the person - Helen - attractive. "Look, Helen, when we have enough of a story-board for a briefing, you'll get it. Right now, all your pushing will do is obstruct the creative process. We have a good idea, but it needs time to grow a bit first."

"Time is what we don't have!" she did snap this time.

"And whose fault is that? I checked the Business Register - this request for proposal has been out on the street for quite some time. I also checked with the other teams who do or could do this type of work and you never even approached them. My team and I will do what we can with the time we have, and what we can do will be better without your nagging than it will be with you there questioning every brush and key stroke."

"We were waiting for you to finish the Maidenform project, and you went over schedule on that, again," Helen shot back.

"Actually, Helen, we didn't. By my recollection, we came in two days ahead of the schedule we committed to on that job," Ed retorted, wondering just what the hell was motivating this confrontation, "and under budget, as well."

"Be that as it may, WE were counting on you finishing up faster!" Then she rushed on before he could answer her implied charge. "Regardless of the reason, we're behind the 8-ball on this new project so my team and I HAVE to be involved with every step of this project starting right now. I don't want to go to Veronica with this, Ed, but. . ." she let the threat hang in the air.

"Do what you have to do, Helen, because I will. And what I have to do is protect the people who are doing the real work on this effort. You can't market what they don't turn out. Now, if you'll excuse me? I have other work to do."

He heard her outraged gasp followed by the staccato tapping of receding high heels. "God," he growled as he started digging into his briefcase, "but there are parts of this job I purely hate," he mumbled as he reached for his coffee cup.

"Then why do you do it?" a now-familiar female voice asked. "Although I must say you seem to do it well enough - better than I thought you could from my experience with you. Well fought!"

"Marq. . .I mean, Mary?" Ed's voice nearly cracked. "What are you doing here?"

Smiling, Mary strolled into his cubicle. She was dressed in a dark green power suit and carried a leather briefcase. "Didn't your secretary tell you? I'm your nine o'clock appointment. I'm just a little early."

~-~

Ed closed the conference room door and then held Mary's chair for her to be seated. As he took his own place, she could see just how hard his mind was working at how he would ask the question clearly foremost in his mind. She decided to take mercy on him. "I told your secretary that I was here representing a firm in need of a new and fresh advertising angle, and that you had been highly recommended."

"Oh, ummm, I see."

She grinned. "I don't think so. Actually, Veronica will shortly join us with some files I need for my investigator."

"What kind of files? Why?"

"Edward, we know that whoever did this to you and to me knows you very well. Verita tells me that you don't have much of a social or personal life, so that puts business contacts and colleagues at the top of our list of suspects. Business records, personnel files, pay, accounting and tax records, pre-employment background checks - all of it information that we could obtain elsewhere, but which is more easily and quickly gotten here. We do have a bit of time urgency here."

"You're not the first one to tell me that today," Ed muttered, and then cast a suspicious eye at Mary. "Couldn't Veronica get in trouble for giving you that stuff?"

"If she or I were caught, then I suspect she could, but we're not going to be caught."

"Pride and falls," he noted, worried.

"Don't fuss," she scolded gently. "No one will see anything untoward, and I will be taken to be just as I appear. You will, of course, make a report for the record about my company - I told them I represent a very exclusive spa, by the way. You will tell them that, because my clientele is so. . .select and small, that your company really isn't suited to this type of account. Veronica tells me that would be the truth, were I, in fact, representing such a firm."

A wry smile crossed Ed's mouth. "Not that I would be likely to do a very good job for you in any case."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it's hard for me to write good copy about products or services when I have. . . a lot of ambivalence about them."

Mary's laugh was rich and full. "Oh, what a perfectly delightful way of putting it, although I might say 'ambivalence' is a bit kind."

Ed relaxed a bit at that, and sat back. "May I offer you some refreshment while we wait? Some coffee? Tea?"

"Tea would be nice." Mary watched as he called for the receptionist and asked her to arrange some tea. Then he carefully spread out paper and pencils from his portfolio. "Going to ignore me and do some of that work you mentioned to your colleague?"

"If I wasn't scribbling furiously when she arrived, she'd know something was wrong. It's a nice small company and we've mostly been together for a while now. They tend to know my little foibles."

"You enjoy working here?"

"Sure."

"What about those, ah, how did you put it? Oh, yes. What about those parts of the job you purely hate? And you never answered my question about why you do it?"

Ed was about to answer when the tea arrived. She let him get away with serving the tea - noting again that he did it well. Something he'd already known? Or something she and her ladies had taught Edie? When he'd finished the little ceremony, she took her cup and saucer and leaned back. "Now, answer my questions, please," she ordered. The tone was mild, but the look in her eyes was anything but.

Ed put down his own cup. "I made a mistake taking the team leader job," he admitted to himself as much to Mary.

"Why did you take it?"

He shrugged, a bit defensively, Mary thought. "Got greedy. Wanted more, I don't know, more everything, but didn't know that I didn't want what came with it."

"Not cut out to be a manager, eh?"

"I do okay at it, but the work was a lot more fun when I did the creative bit, when I did what Didi and Ken do now."

"Surely you still do that - you're a very imaginative person. Otherwise, you'd never have fallen in with the scenarios at my island so well."

A sardonic smile answered that last comment. "Oh, I do get to play a little - we are a team after all and we'll take any good idea, even if it comes from the boss. I just don't get to do the drawing, the story-boarding, the ad-writing anymore. While my kids are doing that stuff, I'm worrying about budgets and schedules and getting new accounts."

"And dealing with pushy women like that blonde?"

"That, too. Helen's okay," he assured Mary, but his body language said something else entirely to the quietly observant woman. "She's the balance in all this - the clear-headed, schedule-driven manager in the midst of all these creative free spirits. Without that balance, we'd never get anything done on time. It's just that sometimes. . "

Mary let that hang in the air before prompting, "Sometimes?"

Ed fidgeted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the intensity and line of Mary's questions. "Sometimes she tries to make like ideas are something you turn out with a cookie-cutter."

"I see."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, each enjoying the hot tea, until the woman broke the silence. "Verita tells me you're still determined to be involved directly in the investigation."

"I have to be involved," he said quietly. "I have questions that I have to ask and that I have to have answered."

His determination shouldn't surprise her, Mary mused. Nothing else could have sustained him during his time on her island. She was marshalling her arguments for another try when the door to the conference room opened. "Hello, Mary," Veronica said from the doorway. "Ready to go over that paperwork?"

"It's all there?"

"I think you'll have enough to see what can be done," Veronica replied carefully, aware they could be overheard. "Now that you've met Ed, I will give you a quick and dirty on our standard contracts. If you'll come to my office? Talk to you later, Ed."

~-~

The woman who now paced about Veronica's private office had very little in common with the highly controlled personality Ed had met in the conference room. "Dammit, Sister, he won't LISTEN! Like all members of that species, he has two heads and he's thinking with the wrong damned one!"

Veronica smiled at the display of fiery temper. It was even comforting because it meant that Ed mattered to the woman. "One would think, Mary, that you were the redhead just now, instead of me."

The comment reached Mary, and she made a visible effort to compose herself. "I'm afraid I have more than my share of the O'Hurley Irish temper, but I don't often let it show. I apologize."

"Unnecessarily, Sister. I take it that Ed is still determined to be involved."

Frustration flashed in Mary's eyes again, her hands fisting. "Yes, and he's a problem! He's the joker in this deck. He could queer this whole deal so we never find the bastard who did this to him. . to ME!"

"Calm down!" Veronica's order was mildly given, but steely nonetheless. "You're not doing the investigation much good in this condition either. Tell me what you're planning."

Mary's spine went ramrod straight at the command, and for a moment, Veronica thought she might storm out, but she didn't. Instead, she took another deep breath, then sauntered over to the chair she'd been first offered and sat down. Crossing her lovely legs, she began. "There are at least two areas for investigation. The work connection - someone knows Ed and knows him well. Has to be work-related. . . unless he really does have a social life?"

Veronica shook her head. "He doesn't," she replied. "Until he was taken to your place, he worked inhuman hours here - sometimes over 80 hours a week."

"Then, those papers will be the start we need for that. The other line involves my contacts here in town, and that's a problem."

"Why?"

"Same problem Edward had at that munch. My investigators are strangers and the Black Rose won't open up to them any more than they did to Edward. That's why I need you. The investigators can't get in at all and I shouldn't because that may tip off anyone who's involved."

"Has to be Black Rose?"

"It's a starting point," Mary conceded, standing up to resume pacing. She spun back to face Veronica. "Look, all my contacts are members, and they're active. That's how I made initial contact with them. They've all been carefully screened before I took them into my confidence, but still. . ."

"There's obviously a great deal of money involved and money skews things. Okay, I'll go inside for you and see what I can find out. I'll need the names of the women you use."

"How do you know they're all women?"

"Aren't they? You are, after all, a Sister."

"They aren't all Sisters," Mary retorted, and then realized she's answered Veronica's first question, at least indirectly. "All right, but that still leaves the question of what to do about Edward. We can't have an uncontrolled element like that confusing an already dangerous situation."

"Ed is smart, Mary," the petite redhead said reflectively. "If we can show him that he might hazard the investigation, I think he'd back out. Besides, it occurs to me that having a sub who is in on my role in all this would be to our advantage. I could slip away from time-to-time without having a panicky slave yelling for help at a particularly awkward moment in my, ah, investigations."

"Only if we can rely on him in such a situation, Verita. He must play by our rules if that is to work in our favor. The only one who can control him is you, and given your well-known play preferences, that means he has to willingly become Edie. More than that, he has to be able to stay in role as Edie under such circumstances that may well bring back. . .bad memories."

"Then, we give him a fair test or two, in situations that won't endanger the investigation. If he handles it, fine. If he can't, I think I can convince him to stay out of the way. But the tests have to be fair."

Mary frowned at that, and came back to her chair once again. "What do you have in mind?"

Veronica smiled, a touch of mischief dancing in her violet eyes. "I just got an email request from a friend at the Black Rose. I told her I'd get back to her about it. Here's the deal."

~-~

Fortunately, the Andrushka account plan work was there to help divert Ed's attention the rest of that day, or he would have done little else but consider Mary's words. Only one small problem though, of the 'every silver lining has a cloud' variety - that project was going TOO smoothly. The concept ads were practically writing themselves and Ken and Didi's story-boards were among the best Ed had ever seen.

So he hadn't been quite as diverted as he would have liked, and spent a good deal of time 'considering what she said - carefully'.

He was deeply engrossed in just such a state of contemplation when Veronica entered his cubicle around five p.m. that night. She knew without asking what was on his mind, and that suited her purposes. Without a word she took one of the empty chairs and waited for her friend to acknowledge her presence.

The second hand on the analog clock above Ed's door had begun it's third revolution when he finally realized he was no longer alone. "Veronica?"

"Hi, Ed," she said, smiling softly. "What are you thinking about so deeply?"

"What do you think?" he retorted.

"Why don't I think it's about perfume campaigns? Mary's visit?" Ed nodded. "And . . . Edie?"

This time the nod was jerky, and the pencil he'd been holding snapped in his hand. "The pair of you have convinced me that she's the only way I can be involved without disrupting the investigation or spooking the game. It's just that there's a lot of baggage there. I want to believe that I can handle it. . .handle being . .. her especially at . . "

"A Black Rose event?"

"Yeah. But I can't be sure, and messing up isn't an option."

"Fair enough. Feel like dipping your toe into the pool? See if it's too cold before you have to take a running dive in?"

"Huh? How would I do that?"

"I have an idea about that. A friend of mine in Black Rose sent me an email today."

 

Chapter 14: Interludes

Ed smiled from his seat near the foot of the conference room table. He could have stood, or moved to the lectern at the head of the table, but that wasn't his way. Instead, he simply had his say, as he always did. "Our opening assumption is that we want more than just the obvious customer base for this product. Our challenge, therefore, is to take a model who is in transition from 'girl' to 'woman', and provide an image - or images - of her that will appeal to all ages. We think this will do the job. Now, I'll let those who have created the vision explain them."

He gestured to Ken and Didi to take over. With that, Ed relaxed back into his chair and watched happily as his team pitched their ideas to Helen, Derrick and Veronica. He had a reputation for preferring to let them run with the ball and garner to themselves the praise their efforts clearly deserved. It was a habit that annoyed the other team leaders, mostly because the really good worker-bees wanted to work with Ed for that very reason. A quick glance around the table showed Helen looking puzzled while her assistant had an odd smirk on his face. He wondered why. At least Veronica was smiling.

"So, we quickly decided that we needed something that would stand out from the approaches we think most of the other firms would develop," Ken said, almost tripping over words in his excitement. "And in researching Andrushka, we discovered these pictures of her Mother." he floated several 8x10 blowups of obvious news photos around the wood-veneered conference table. The woman in those grainy exhibits was an older version of the daughter - a bit rounder in places with a face that was not so smooth as it might once have been, but still attractive. "We think we can work that into the campaign and do something really cool." Ed smiled at that. Ken always bubbled when he was passionate about something. "Didi?"

The rail-thin blonde stood up and lifted the covers off the easel that had been positioned at the head of the table. A 4x5-foot, hand-drawn story-board rested on the frame, two sets of side-by-side drawings filled the top four feet of the storyboard. A large piece of blank paper taped to the bottom hid the 'punchline'.

"We think we can make this work with either video or print media. As Ed pointed out, the key to a successful rollout is to make Andrushka Perfume appeal to all age groups by showing the product across those age groups," Didi began.

Moving to the easel, Didi pulled a collapsible metal pointer from her shirt pocket and aimed it at the story board. "As you can see, we're using a split screen or split page design for the ads - the left side showing Andrushka, the right side showing her Mom. In this first scene, we show Andrushka being a girl - having fun with her pals on the mall. Or she could be going to the beach or some similar scene, depending on the second-tier theme, or on the degree to which we want to emphasize athleticism in the total advertisement. With me, so far?"

There was a general murmur of agreement, so the blond artist pressed on. "All right, then, in the right panel, we show her Mom being a mature, yet attractive, woman exercising power; in this case, chairing a meeting. Again, depending on the second tier theme, she might be directing men a work site. In other words, we see her as being a woman in charge - in command. For the second tier, we shift them. Keeping the same motif, we see Mom dancing with a handsome man. Again, if we want to emphasize athleticism and energy, she could be riding a horse in a dash through the surf, with a man riding his own horse in laughing pursuit. The alternate image would be Andrushka in formal wear, being helped from a car by a subtly older looking, and deferential male. The punch line is . . ."

Ken stood up to sweep away the paper hiding the captions.

"'The Joy of Youth' for the top left scene, and 'The Power of Woman' for the top right scene. Underneath the bottom scenes, or in the voice over on the vids, you get 'Share the joy; Weild the power - Andrushka Perfumes."

Didi seemed to run down at that point, and cast a worried look to Edward, who grinned and gave her a surreptitious thumbs-up.

"Ed?" Veronica asked.

"Obviously, I like it, Veronica. We wouldn't be here now if I didn't."

"Helen?"

The tall blonde flipped through her notebook for a moment and then looked up. "I think it's . . . creative, but I see some problems with it," she began, and then hesitated audibly.

"That's why we're here, Helen, to look for possible problems and issues with the proposed campaign," the director pointed out. "If you have reservations, let's have them."

"Well, while it does play on Andrushka's image, it also puts her in situations that her handlers may not like. Andrushka's image is the 'naughty sixteen year old', the too-sexy-for- her-own-good forbidden fruit every adolescent male wants but doesn't quite dare pluck. This is 'Jane Bond'. .. Superwoman. I find that hard to accept - both the transition for Andrushka herself, and the image as a whole. Who will identify with that?"

"Ed?" Veronica redirected.

"We think that a great many young women, those who in their hearts want it all - power and beauty, will identify with images that combine a fun-loving free spirit with strong, independent person." Edward claimed. "In other words, the demographic we're after."

Helen shot a quick look at Veronica, trying to sense the director's mood. Then, Derrick picked up the photo of Andrushka's mother and held it out for the others to see. "Our client may no longer be sixteen," he pointed out reasonably, "but she's not a, ah, 'mature' woman either. Do we want to associate our client with rapid ageing?"

"We want to associate our client with *all* women," declared Didi. "God, Derrick, I hope I look that good when I'm that age. I wish I looked that good NOW. Besides, Mom isn't Andrushka, and I'm sure people will recognize that. Our final image, as we've laid out, is Andrushka herself as the ideal woman - beautiful, mature, glamorous, and emotionally fulfilled. Time is no longer her enemy."

"Say," Ed interrupted, making a quick note, "that's another good tag line."

"I thought you already had your ideas," Helen challenged. "Are you still changing things around? I HAVE to be able to get the marketing projections done."

"Nothing says we can't make something good even better," Ed replied lightly. "Or use it later on this campaign or on some other one."

"We don't have time for this," snapped Helen.

 

"Then we have what we have, Helen," Edward replied. "It's the best thing we came up with and I think it's pretty damned good."

"You're sure you can get her Mother into this? And that she looks that good?" Derrick jumped in, interrupting before Helen could reply.

Veronica shrugged. "If we can, we will. Might be worth it to them to send her to a few weeks at a spa to get buffed up, but there are any number of suitable models out there who are similar facially and physically to Andrushka and who could fill in - they just wouldn't be Mom. There are definite pluses to that connection in the campaign, but she's not critical to the concept so far as I can see. However, Helen, so far you haven't mentioned what you think of the concept or the theme."

Helen hesitated and then looked to the now silent Derrick, who shrugged. "Oh, I'll admit that it is . . . interesting," she said carefully. "I just wish we had some time to float the idea with her people, do some preliminary surveys. We're taking a huge gamble with some issues that could be really hot buttons with Andrushka's people and the public. It could end up costing us a good deal of money to flesh this out only to have it shot down without a fair hearing."

Veronica considered that, but shook her head. "What did you call it, Ed? The 'I want to be like Mike' ripoff? I think that's the only other concept out there right now, and I don't think it's a winner. Unfortunately, we don't have time to do any research or idea floats because we're so far behind now."

Helen interrupted with "If they'd finished that bra campaign sooner. . "

"That's immaterial," Veronica cut the woman off. "Because they finished that ahead of their promised due date. It was our decision to hold this project for them, and now, we have to go with the best that we have. I think that's this concept. Anyone have a better idea?"

No one did. "All right, get your team to work, Ed. Presentations to Andrushka's people are scheduled for next week. I'll firm up the day and time and get back to you. You'll have at least five days, no more than seven. If you need help, come to me and I'll divert other teams to help. This is good work, people. I especially like the tagline."

Ed smiled, but nodded toward his two team members.

~-~

"Damn them!" Helen fumed as she and Derrick entered her office. "And damn Veronica, too."

"It's good, isn't it?" Derrick asked quietly.

"I don't think it will do much for the forty-five and up crowd, but I think it's dynamite for any female from fourteen to forty. How in hell did they come up with something like that in less than five days!?"

"You knew going into this that Ed was the one you have to beat out when Veronica gets booted up to V.P.," Derrick pointed out. "That's why we came up with slamming them with this account and deadline."

"And whose idea was THAT brilliant notion?" Helen spat at her assistant."

"Mine," he agreed morosely. "It seemed perfect at the time."

"Well, we need something else now, or you won't have that lovely little office outside of Veronica's as Director's Executive Assistant when she gets 'kicked upstairs', will you?"

"Any idea when that's going to happen? How much time we'll have to work out our next strategy?"

"I think it's going to be soon," she replied, running slender fingers through her cap of blond curls. "Too soon. My informant tells me that the retirement package is just about a done deal, and the fellow isn't about to let the Board change their mind once it's signed."

"Damn."

 

Chapter 15: Janus-Faced Trial of Submission

The knock on her hotel door startled Mary from what had to be her fifth or sixth reading of the records provided by Veronica. She was a bit annoyed with herself for that, for she was relatively certain that what she needed to know would not be so obvious that an employment record would drop it in her lap.

Rising, she glided across the Persian carpeted floor and checked the security camera - it was her investigator.

He greeted her with his usual, "Ms. O'Hurley," when she admitted him, and again as usual, politely refused her offer of refreshment.

"These are the records of those who work most closely with subject Davis," she said, pushing the foot-tall stack of manilla-foldered paper across the coffee table.

The investigator glanced at the pile. "Good, because we need something. Nothing else has turned up so far."

"Nothing?"

"Not that connects with Davis," he replied, his emotionless speaking voice again reminding Mary of Joe Friday from the classic TV series, 'Dragnet'. "He really doesn't seem to have anything remotely resembling a social life. His neighbors say he's a quiet fellow, nice enough once you get to know him, and willing to lend a hand when needed. Little girl there told about how 'Mr. Davis had saved Kitty from being stuck forever in that tree,' and an elderly lady said that he always makes sure she had fresh milk and groceries in the bad weather."

"How did you find these things out?"

"One of my operatives got it - hinted that she was doing a piece on him for a professional journal where he was in running for ad-creative talent of the year. Told them that it was a surprise and that it would be shame to ruin it."

"Suppose someone checks?"

"Someone, or rather, two someones have - we had the cover story covered with another operative acting as 'the home office'. Anyway, he almost never goes out at night - and never dresses up like a man going on a date when he does. The elderly lady is wondering if she should introduce him to her granddaughter."

"Just what Edward needs right now, I'm sure. How long to check out all those personnel files?"

He counted the folders and did a quick estimate in his head. "I've got three free operatives - probably five days, maybe less if most of them have been in the local area for a while - figure five days."

"If something looks odd. . ."

"I'll call you, Ms. O'Hurley. Immediately." The investigator scooped up the folders and rose to his feet. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get my people on this. Anyone you think looks particularly worthy of note?"

"I asked his boss, and no. There's a female who's always been something of a bitch, and her assistant who's something of a toad-eating climber, but my contact thinks that is her personal dislike of them talking."

He shrugged his acceptance of that. "That happens in a business situation and in the advertising game, people work in closer quarters than in other businesses so folks might get edgy." But, he decided, he'd check it out just the same. Smoke and fire, and in his experience, neither were usually coincidental. "I'll call you per our usual schedule."

"Oh, that reminds me - could you call an hour later on Tuesdays and Fridays? I, ah, have a standing appointment I need to keep."

"As you wish. Good night, Ms. O'Hurley."

"Thanks. Good night to you, too," and then said under her breath, "Sergeant Friday."

~-~

Ed waited on the sidewalk while Veronica got her rolling suitcase out of the car. It was heavy and nearly filled the small car's trunk, making it difficult to grip and lift free of the confined space. He helped her get it up onto the sidewalk from the street level. "Thanks," she said, as they started to stroll up to the now-familiar hotel entrance.

"You sure you want to do this?" she asked again?

"I said I would, and I agree with your logic. I need to face this. . . and these people. If I can't, than I have to back out of your and Mary's way. I don't want to have to back out."

She let him hold the door for her and strode into the lobby. They boarded an elevator and were alone as it started up. "All right, then - like I said, this will be more than a munch, but still less than a play party. Just do as you're told by me and everything will be fine."

"I can't help being, well, a little anxious."

"I know," Veronica said gently. "You know what to expect because I've told you what I intend to do in there. I'm not out to surprise you, all right?" Ed nodded, but looked just a little pale all the same. "Just go with the flow," she ordered as the polished gold elevator doors swooshed open to admit them to the large meeting area Black Rose had reserved for the night's activities. They stepped off and Veronica leaned over to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "Now scoot and do as I ordered. I have to get ready."

~-~

He stepped carefully among the gathered spectators, heading for one of the few empty folding chairs clustered about the makeshift stage/dias in one corner of the large meeting room. A placard on an easel declared that the upcoming presentation would be "Cross-dressing for Public/Cross Dressing for Private - a Demonstration by Mistress Ronnie."

Feeling very alone, Ed glanced around at his fellow attendees. Dress was a complete mish-mash from grubby jeans to full dominant leather regalia. One fellow was turned out in full black evening formal, complete with a red silk cummerbund. The woman to his right was rigged out in 1950's cotton housewear a la Donna Reed, while the woman to his left was costumed as Vampirella - except neither was a woman he suddenly realized. Both were men. They weren't the only cross-dressed men, either, although they were the most passable. The others were submissives accompanying one of the women and were dressed up in humiliating caricature.

He caught himself comparing Edie to the two more passable CD's when Veronica strode up onto the dias. Ed's eyebrows rose and his mouth dropped - this was a Veronica he'd never seen before. Her auburn hair was teased into mane to make a lion weep, and her face was dramatic - vividly attention-grabbing. Her eyes seemed bigger, more deeply violet and her lips were fuller - more tempting. Her tight little body was poured into a violet latex catsuit that seemed to match her eyes as did the dangerously tall stiletto-heeled pumps that completed her ensemble.

"Close your mouth," a voice to his right hissed. "She's not for the likes of you."

Before he could answer that, Veronica began to speak. "Greetings, and thank you for coming to my little demonstration. I'm filling in for Mistress Freya tonight as she has had an illness in her family and couldn't make it. Now, we've got a lot to cover tonight, so let's get started. We're going to talk first about how to get your quivering little subbie through passing in public, and then. . . " her voice dropped into a sultry low register that all but made Ed's hair stand on end, "We'll talk about other stuff."

A cheer greeted her, and she laughed. "Okay, so, what makes a guy in girl's clothing stand out as a guy? I mean, if we're going to get our guy-subs safely to the ladies room, we need to understand what mistakes will get them made, right? Any suggestions?" she asked, opening the discussion to the floor.

"Bad hair. . .wig," offered a woman dressed in black.

"Facial hair! Bad or otherwise." another quipped.

"Overdone makeup."

"That's a good one," Veronica applauded. "We might extend that to inappropriate makeup? No matter how well applied, 'take me to bed, stud,' make up for a casual luncheon date at noon kinda stands out."

"Build and fit of clothes," a leather clad domina called out.

"Yeah, like size HHH boobs," another offered, even as her hands went down to cup those very same appendages on the male sub kneeling at her feet.

"Ain't got no back," a black, Rubenesque Mistress laughed, standing to pat her own prominent and well-rounded bottom.

"Those are all great ideas, but what are we saying here?" There was a silence. "What trips the guy-sub up is that he stands out in some what. Something about what he wears, or how he wears it says 'wrong' to our collective brain. Why is that?"

"Cause they don't know how?" Donna Reed asked, obviously not including himself in that category.

"Maybe, but some are pretty skilled - the 'take me to bed, stud' makeup job as a case in point, so that's not all of it." Again, there was silence. "C'mon, people. Anyone here ever been in the army?" Two or three hands and several nods answered her. "Okay, when you were trained to infiltrate the enemy position, did you wear international orange fatigues? No, of course not, you wore camouflage. And if your guy-sub is going to pass muster in public, en femme, we need to start thinking in terms of camouflage."

"What do you mean?" the owner of Miss Triple-H asked.

"Cross dressing is a celebration of the one gender by the other gender - in this case, the feminine by the masculine. Our guys, however, being guys, tend to, ah, shall we say, fixate on somewhat narrow interpretations of feminine? Like boobs, or heels, or make-up, and being guys, they overdo it. For you genetic women out there - when was the last time you put on your stalking make-up for an afternoon trip to the mall, or slipped into an oh-so-comfortable pair of six-inch spikes to go knock around with the girls down at the country club? So when someone does, they get second, third and fourth looks. Most CD's just aren't going to be good enough to take that kind of scrutiny. Right?"

There was a mumble of agreement among the throng. "Great, so, Edie, would you please join me up front?"

Swallowing hard, Ed rose and tried to walk confidently up to the dias. Once there, he accepted Veronica's proffered hand in his right hand, gathered his skirt in the other, and stepped up on to the stage.

A murmur of surprise went through the gathering as all eyes were fixed on him. Nervously, he put his hands together in front of him and had to fight to keep looking at the audience instead of his feet.

"She's a guy?" a faceless voice finally demanded.

The disbelief in that question calmed Ed, and he felt himself relax, even under the intense scrutiny. "Indeed, she is," Veronica replied. "Did anyone notice, or think that this person might, in fact, not be a woman? Be honest now," she chided. "All right, then she passed the 'no second look' test, so let's give her that look now."

Veronica stepped to one side and ordered Ed to do a slow turn for the crowd. "First thing, notice the whole picture - what do you see?"

"Lord, but she looks like my daughter in her radical feminist, 'it's a crime to look attractive' phase."

"Good description, and pretty much my goal. The granny glasses help there a good deal. 'Men don't make passes at girls who wear glasses' may be a stereotype, but one with elements of truth. The oversized sweater and the nearly ankle length cotton skirt don't key you to look again, but they don't look THAT out of place either. Put a little Goth makeup on her and she'd fit right in at a play party. The floppy, Indian-style deerskin boots are fairly gender neutral," and here, Veronica's voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone, "I was going to put her in a pair of clunky-heeled Doc Martens, but poor Edie doesn't have much experience in heels and that might have given her away."

"Gonna teach her that soon, aren't you?" the owner of the basketball-bosomed sissy-slave called out.

"Perhaps," Veonica answered with a smile.

"Looks almost like she's got SOME figure," the black domina called out. "At least I thought she did when she did that pirouette."

"So she does, but not enough to look unnatural. Lift your skirt, dear, up to your waist and turn your back to the audience," Veronica ordered. "An all-in-one," she explained when the white paneled undergarment came into view, "with just enough padding to blur her otherwise nicely masculine butt. It also includes an pair of, oh, A-minus falsies on top, again just to blur the shape."

"Those ears pierced?"

"Nope, just a bit of makeup adhesive - like you'd use for a beauty spot. Along with that, a quality wig made to look, well, a bit frumpy," she added pointing to the somewhat unkempt pageboy in a bland brown hue, "And only bare minimum of cosmetics - in this case some foundation for the skin tone, and just a touch of lip color to look natural with that color."

"Cripes," the leather-clad woman observed, "I look more interesting in my knocking around the grubby house clothes."

"Exactly," Veronica observed, "You can lower your skirt, now, Edie," she teased before continuing, "And that's just the point. Notice where I had her sit, too."

"Huh? Why, she sat beside us," Triple-H said, looking up at his Mistress.

"Right - a little brown wren among all you, shall we say, more exotic birds? Who's going to draw the most attention, her or you?"

Another wave of comments and mutterings answered her as she walked over to stand next to Edie, putting a companionable arm about wool-clothed shoulders.

"Okay, so she can pass at the grocery store. What's the fun in that?" Another sissy-accompanied dominant female demanded.

"Depends on the kind of fun you're after. Edie, what did I ask you to do between our arrival and this session?"

Ed had known this was coming, but still had to choke out his response. "Umm. . ahem.. . visit. . umm, the restroom, umm, Ma'am."

"Which restroom, Edie?"

"The, um, Ladies' Room, Ma'am."

"Were you alone in there?"

"God, no! I had to wait for a stall!"

"Oh SHIT," a green-wigged woman wearing red satin and sequins yelped. "She. . HE's the one who rabbited out of the restroom when I started changing into my party-clothes.

Veronica laughed and gave Ed a little congratulatory hug with the arm still around his shoulders before turning back to the group. "I'd say that was fun, and also, standing as I am, in loco Mistress-is, having him fool the lot of you was pretty cool. Look folks, it's honest time, all right? I don't play with guys I don't like. It's something I do for the fun of it, and people I don't like aren't fun. Anxiety, nerves, maybe a bit of fear on the part of my subbie? That gets me off. Hurting him, like, for real? Which is what would happen to him most places if he got caught wearing a skirt in the ladies' room? That's not fun, and it would be damned poor domming, too."

"Oh, pooh, you're telling secrets," one of the dominants said teasingly.

"Well, there are other times when. . .," Veronica said, her voice suddenly sultry, "other rules apply."

"Such as?" several voices called out.

"Why, private play. . . and play parties," and then she winked at Ed, "Demonstrations."

A cheer rose, and two attendants rolled up a privacy screen and lifted it onto the dias. "Now, I'm going to make up Edie into the femme fatale all good little guy sissy-subs dream of being. Now, since this IS a demo, we don't want to offend anyone. . ."

"Oh, offend us, ofFEND us!"

"Now, now, can't do that," Veronica chided playfully, "NOT without consent, after all. So, what we'll do is that Edie and I will go slip her into something . . . LESS comfortable, behind this screen. Those of you who will be offended, can sit where you are. Those who won't?" Ed felt his stomach come alive with B-52-sized butterflies in response to the sensual anticipation in his boss' voice, "can move their chairs to the other side of the screen."

So saying, she hooked a pinkie finger under Edie's long, chain necklace and led her cross-dressed 'volunteer' behind the ornately decorated changing blind.

~-~

For what had to be the fourth or fifth time, Ed returned to stare at the reflection in the mirror. He was alone now, as the demonstration was over and the follow-on social hour was also waning.

Of course, EVERYone had moved their chair, and had thus 'enjoyed' every moment of Ed's transformation from 'frump-fem' to 'femme fatale'.

Everyone, that is, except Ed himself. He'd been absolutely mortified because that had meant stripping down to the skin - much to the verbally expressed amusement of the assembled membership - and being rebuilt into what he now saw in the mirror before him. But, he had given his word. Which was only one of three reasons he was still here, wearing this incredible costume. Several unreachable knots and a pair of tiny padlocks were the other reasons.

"Oh, I just love your look!" a voice gushed from behind.

Ed turned to find himself face-to-bosom with Triple-H herself. "It's not what I expected when I agreed to this."

"Oh? Do tell, please."

"I kinda expected to be transformed into Fifi, French Maid."

"But this is just so much more. . .more!"

Ed wondered idly just how long it had taken this one's Mistress to perfect the Valley Girl-isms, then turned back to the mirror.

Without conscious thought, his hands went to cup his own newly-massive breastworks which, thanks to a breathlessly tight corset, a pair of huge falsies, and the thick white fur coating the bodice, almost, if not quite, rivaled his companion's unreal 'endowments'. "Sheesh."

"Fun, aren't they?" Triple-H observed, mimicking Ed's movement with his own improbable bosom.

"You say so, pal."

"Come on - get with the program, sugar!" Triple-H chided, pointing at the mirror, "That's not what SHE sounds like!"

Ed sighed, knowing that he. . . she was right. The nondescript wig, now thoroughly moussed and combed, had been transformed into a nearly-black cap of tightly coiled curls framing his face. Distinctly outlined circles of rouge and spidery false eyelashes combined with lipstick-thickened angel-bow lips and huge shadowed eyes created an almost doll-like face.

"Boo-boop-ee-doo," Betty Boop trilled in a squeaky falsetto.

"That's just SO marvy, sweetcheeks!" Ed's companion actually gushed in approval. "Now, if we can just get you to dance a bit when you sing? Then, you'll REALLY have something to show off at the next play party."

That image was so positively ludicrous that it made even Ed giggle. "You're kidding, right? Dancing? With these boobs? Forget what they do to my center of gravity and my sense of balance. I can't see my feet, and in these skyscrapers I'm afraid I'll break an ankle if I so much as try to change direction. And you want me to dance?"

The tall sub reached down and smartly snapped one of the tight stocking garters 'Betty's' micro-mini left uncovered. "Sure! You'll learn - with a Mistress like that one? She's HOT! How could you not?"

"She's not my. . "

A smugly knowing look came across the heavily made up face. "If not, she will be," Triple-H said confidently, "She wants you, and it's pretty clear you're gone over her."

Ed was spared having to respond by Veronica's "Ready to change back into Ed and call it a night, Boopsie-darling?"

"Ed?" he asked, spinning about so fast he would have fallen if not for both Veronica and the tall cross-dresser stepping in to catch him. When he again had his feet under him, he continued, "I thought I'd have to leave here done up as Frumpy-Edie? I didn't bring any guy clothes."

"I did," Veronica told him. "They're in my suitcase. I just didn't tell you. Come on back to the privacy screen. I'll help you out of that corset and unlock the shoes."

"Bless you!" Betty's tiny voice cooed, even as Ed carefully minced off to follow the violet-clad domina. "See ya, Trip."

 

Chapter 16: The Thicken Plots

Veronica skillfully piloted her sporty little two-seater to the curb that fronted on Ed's apartment complex. "Sure you won't come up for a drink?" he asked.

She smiled - a gentle smile totally unlike the mischievous and sometimes predatory ones that had graced Mistress Ronnie's face - and shook her head. "No, thanks. It's late and tomorrow's a work day for us both. Besides," she added knowingly, "you have more than enough to think about for one evening."

"Guess I do at that."

"Now, remember to use the moisturizer to cleanse your face - at least twice, I think. I'm pretty sure I got most of the makeup off you, but I'm tired and may have missed something that could embarrass the hell out of you at work tomorrow. And if you decide you're going to play Edie for this little investigation, you should start using it every night before bed."

"Okay," he replied automatically.

Veronica leaned over the center console and kissed his cheek. "Now, scoot. I'm a very tired lady, and I get crabby if I don't get my beauty sleep."

Ed slipped out of the car, watched as she locked the door behind him, and then headed inside. He didn't notice that she waited until he was safely inside before she put the car in gear and drove away.

~-~

Mary hurried across the hotel room to answer the phone. She'd loaned Verita some 'Ed-sized' items for this evening's event, and was hoping for a report on how Edie had reacted. In truth, she didn't know whether she would have preferred Ed to balk (and thus get out of Mary's way) or succeed (for Verita's sake).

Snatching up the phone, she said, "Yes?"

"Ms. O'Hurley?" the gravelly voice of 'Joe Friday' replied.

"Yes, Jack, it is. You have something for me?"

"Don't know for sure - it may be nothing, but then again, we haven't fully checked it out. One of the subject's colleagues, a Mr. Derrick Tolivar, took a vacation at just about the same time as Mr. Davis was planning to take his holiday. Tolivar left the day before Davis, and returned the Friday before you, ah. . ."

"I released Edward back in his office late on a Saturday night," she finished for her investigator.

"Right, well, Tolivar returned to work the Friday immediately before that Saturday, ma'am."

"And your point is?"

"Initial online checks cannot determine where he went or what he did, Ms. O'Hurley. No plane, bus or train reservations and no arrangements with any national hotel chains, and no major charges against any of his credit cards."

"Maybe he stayed home," Mary pointed out.

"We're looking into that, but we'll need to wait until Monday to do any checking around his neighborhood. That may not turn up anything either, given that we're talking months in ago."

"Be careful here, Jack. Don't spook the game before we're ready to do something about this."

"Understood, Ma'am. We'll be discreet."

"Is that all you have?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll call you when we know more."

He hung up without saying another word, much to Mary's amusement. "Done with me, are you? Lord, but wouldn't I love to have you bareass-naked in my dungeon. THEN we'd see if you could be quite so controlled with all my ladies using feathers all over that hard body of yours!"

That pleasant image was interrupted, again by the phone. She picked it up. "Darling!" she said, smiling more brightly. "It's wonderful to hear your voice. And yes, before you ask, I went to another meeting - tonight, in fact, so don't nag. Try to remember that I'm the Domme, please?"

~-~

Veronica had been right, Ed mused as he considered the reflection shown by his mirror. The moisturizer had unearthed bits of makeup from his skin - like the faint shadow of green pigment that bubbled to the surface above his right eye.

Odd, he thought, how different he looked now, from either feminine image of the past few hours. He reached up to run a finger over a brow, and smiled. He'd been worried when Veronica had come at him with those tweezers, for he'd remembered the result the last time a woman had done that. The pretty Latina at La Marquesa's place had all but denuded him of any brow-hair. It had still be a bit sparse when he'd got back to work. Only Veronica's efforts, for all they'd looked perfect as Betty Boop, looked just fine on Edward Davis now - a little neater, perhaps, but in no way effeminate.

She'd done something, he realized, with the cosmetics and stage makeup, because those self-same brows HAD looked finer and more feminine on Betty.

Ed smoothed on the night-time application of the moisturizer, then rose to finish getting ready for bed. What did those carefully plucked and shaped eyebrows tell him, he wondered? That Veronica was very good at what she did in the scene? Surely, but that wasn't really a surprise. Veronica would be good at anything she attempted. Had she known how. . . anxious he'd been when she'd picked up those tweezers? The answer to that question was immediately obvious - of course she must have known. She was a person used to reading the body language and facial expressions of people around her. It was a skill she had honed well as an advertizing junior executive as she must have done when she'd paid her college bills and supported her family as a professional dominatrix.

Thinking back on that scary moment of truth, Ed realized now that she had hesitated, just a moment, between tightening the tool on that first hair, and plucking it out. She'd been waiting, he now understood, to give him the chance to stop her. He hadn't, so she'd proceeded.

Would she have stopped? While he'd never 'know' for certain for the simple reason that he hadn't cringed, hadn't fought, hadn't ASKED her to stop - hadn't wanted her to stop - he nonetheless felt he knew the answer.

Veronica was completely trustworthy and she would never, ever hurt him.

She'd have stopped.

He was glad - and just a bit proud - that stopping hadn't been necessary.

~-~

Veronica's phone gave a soft electronic chime, indicating an internal call. She picked it up and heard the front receptionist. "Ms. Johnson? There's a Ms. O'Hurley to see you. She said you were expecting her."

She wasn't, but then again, she had been expecting a call. Obviously, Mary wanted a face-to-face. "I'll come meet her, Betsy."

Moments later, the two women were in Veronica's office. "My little cover as a potential client is proving quite useful," Mary said as she took the seat Veronica offered. "Perhaps I really should give consideration to engaging you to advertize my little . . . resort."

"Oh, that would work," the petite redhead replied, grinning. "Why don't you take that idea to our competitors, Sister. I like my job too much to accommodate you."

"Wimp," Mary accused, but without heat. "How did the date go last night?"

"Date?"

"You want him, Verita. If last night wasn't quite a date, it was a first contact." She raised a hand to ward off the other woman's protest. "I KNOW you are colleagues and have known each other for quite a while, but that relationship is with Veronica Johnson, Advertizing Executive and girl-next-door-cute pixie. Last night, he met Mistress Verita."

Veronica sighed. "Well enough, I think. He almost wet his panties when I did his eyebrows, but he trusted me and gutted it out."

"The girl who does the initial transformations for me at the island, Consuella? She is very fond of penciled brows," Mary said by way of explanation of Ed's reaction. "Is he still in the game? More importantly, will he play his role?"

"He's definitely still in the game, and as for the second, I think so. He trusted me. Don't know if he realizes that, but that's what he did - even as frightened as he was. We'll find out more tomorrow night. I have two tickets to the Friday night opera. My girlfriend, Edie, and I will attend."

"A public outing?"

"Yes, but more than just that. I'm going to be rougher on him - give him a taste of covert public play. Nothing really demanding, but enough that he'll have a better idea what he's in for if we do attend a real play party as Domina and sissy-slave. Lord, but I DO wish he wasn't such a novice."

"If he wasn't, whoever did this wouldn't have been able to pull off this nasty little trick on all of us. You'll need some formal wear in his size?"

"I was going to dress him as best I could, but if you have something suitable?"

"I'll call and see. Public play, you say? Might be a good idea to have some help, don't you think?"

"What have you got in mind?"

Mary thought for a moment, and shook her head. "Let me check on some things first. I'll get back to you."

"You never said why you came."

"Oh! That's right. Look, I have some information I need to share with you and Edward. I thought perhaps we could get together at his place, tonight? It might be best if we weren't seen together in public too often - especially all three of us in one place."

"Sure, let me call him." Veronica picked up the phone and dialed. She spoke quickly and evidently got the expected response. Then, she said, "Oh, you will? Marvelous. I still have fond memories from our last Christmas Party. Okay, seven it is. We'll be there."

She returned the phone to it's cradle and grinned at her guest. "You're in for a treat. Ed's invited us both to dinner. He's cooking."

"That good, eh?" Mary asked, rising to leave.

Veronica's grin was gleeful. "Don't wear a corset, Sister."

As they left the office, Veronica called out to a passing worker, "Derrick? Have you got those marketing projections done yet?"

The dark-haired young man held a sheaf of papers above his head and grinned. "Almost - Helen needs to okay them and then they're coming to a desk near you!"

"Thanks. Tell her I need them soonest."

"Gotcha, Ms. J."

Her eyes hard, Mary stared at the young man's departing back. "Who was that, Sister?" she asked softly.

"Why, Derrick Tolivar. He's assistant to Helen Martin, our marketing manager's assistant. Why do you ask?"

"A. . . an .. . interesting young man," she murmured, "Worth a second look."

Puzzled, Veronica turned her head towards the departing male. "You really think so?"

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Tigger. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.