Contract Modifications

by Tigger
© 2002

 

Part V

 

Chapter 17: Service with a Smile

The phone rang, and Mary pounced on it. "Ms. O'Hurley," she said into the receiver.

"You paged me, Ma'am," the calm voice of her lead investigator said.

"Ah, excellent. Yes, I have something for you. It may not be at all significant, but then again. . ."

"All information has significance, ma'am. You pay me to tell you how much."

"Yes, I suppose I do," she replied grinning. She wondered if his ears were pointed under that hat, or if he bled green blood when he cut himself shaving. "All right, then, here goes."

~-~

Mary arrived at Ed's apartment just before the appointed hour, and was greeted first by a smiling Veronica, and then, by a bouquet of the most marvelous aromas. Someone was making something wonderful in this place, her nose told her.

"Greetings, Sister," Veronica said as she accepted Mary's light raincoat. "Come on. Let's go watch the kitchen slave at work."

Grinning, Mary followed. "Watching slaves work is one of the things I do best."

They found Ed at the sink, carefully pitting fresh cherries by hand, while a large pot bubbled cheerfully on the back of the stove. She could see several baguettes baking in the upper oven while an electric ice cream machine whirred nearby. There was a kind of creative chaos in the room that marched well with what she knew of the man who worked away happily in the center of it all.

"Well, if it all tastes as wonderful as everything smells, I will almost forgive not being greeted by Ma'amselle Edie, French Maid Extraordinaire," she said flippantly, and then instantly regretted it. The looks both Ed and Veronica gave her were daunting, and somewhat disappointing.

"I didn't think it necessary," Veronica said softly. "And this is Ed's home, so I would not ask it of him here."

Before Mary could frame a reply to that, Ed did. "If you ever do think it necessary, Veronica, tell me," he said just as softly. "Regardless of where we are or are not. I'll trust you to know when it is or isn't necessary."

There was a silence of several heartbeats at that. Finally, Veronica managed, "Well, that's quite a concession."

Ed shrugged, looking a little surprised himself, but said nothing.

"So," Mary said, stepping into the sudden awkwardness, "What are you feeding me tonight?"

That seemed to snap things back, and a little twinkle came into Ed's eyes. With a great show of pomp, he flung a clean, but ratty dishtowel over his arm, twisted a non-existent mustache with his free hand, and then bowed to the two ladies. "Mes Dames," he said pompously, "Le specialty de la maison. Our salad tonight is made of fresh spinach en vinaigrette. The main course is Chateau Briande de Beouf, and for desert, Cherries Jubilee over homemade ice cream." And then Ed's face fell when he saw the look on Mary's. "What's the matter? You're not vegetarian. I saw you eat meat when we had lunch."

"Do you use brandy or wine in your Sauce Bearnaise, Edward?" she asked in a flat voice.

"Why, no. I don't like it that way. I prefer a variation I found that uses apple juice instead," he answered seriously.

She considered not telling, but she refused to hide that part of herself any longer. "I'm in recovery, Ed," she said simply. "And I'm on an antabuse regimen. I can't have any alcohol or I will get violently ill. Even the residual alcohol that is still there after cooking is enough for a reaction."

"Well, my Bearnaise will cause you no problem, and we will have a simple cherry compote with our ice cream. We will be COOH-free tonight. I think I have a nice bottle of sparkling white grape juice, too. I'll get it out and put it on ice to chill. Be right back."

Ed hustled out of the kitchen, leaving a somewhat bemused Mary staring at his retreating form. She seemed to shake herself "That's not the reaction I usually get following that little revelation - particularly from someone who's had a hard time in my keeping."

"Are you still in recovery?"

"I haven't had a drink in two years, seven months, three weeks and five days," Mary said calmly, and then smiled somewhat wanly. "I know that because I went to a meeting last night, and always double check before I attend one."

"AA?"

"Yeah."

"Sounds like you're doing everything you can, and doing it very well."

"I'm surprised he didn't make a comment about whether I'd fallen off the wagon when I took him," she said, almost as if talking to herself.

It was the returning Ed who answered that. "I thought many things about La Marquesa, Mary, but the only thing I ever thought you might be drunk on was power." He set down the green glass bottle and came over to take her hands in his own. "I have friends who have had to fight that particular beast, so I know how hard it is, and unfortunately, I also know the signs of recidivism." Then his voice became quirky again. "It does, however, explain this control-freak thing you seem to have going!"

"I'll have you know, Edward, that I am working very hard at being Type B! Control freak, indeed."

"So you say, Mary. Wonder what your colleagues would say about your degree of success at being laid back."

"They'd say, Ed," Veronica chimed in, sweetly, "whatever La Marquesa TOLD them to say."

"Damned straight," Mary finished before all three broke into a fit of the giggles.

"Okay, Miss Type B," Ed said when he finally managed to get his laughing almost under control. "YOU set the table. . unless you've forgotten how with all those subs jumping to your beck and call."

"Forgotten how?" Mary sniffed. "HAH! Show me where you keep the dishes and flatware, male, and I'll show you how it's done. After all, you cannot TEACH what you do not KNOW!"

~-~

Desert and after dinner coffee were served in Ed's living room. "Next time you're my guest, Edward, I'm putting you in the kitchen. My cook could learn a few things from you. I'm going to need my corset for the next few days. That was delicious."

"Thank you. So, what's up?"

"I've turned over the records Verita gave me to my investigator. I expect we'll know what there is to know in a few days."

"That's positive," Veronica put in.

"Yes, it is. I also have the things you requested in my car. Do you want them up here or are you and Edward going to meet at your place?"

"Things? What things?"

Veronica became very still, and then turned to face Edward. "One last test, Ed. Edie will be attending the opera tomorrow night - with Mistress Verita as her escort."

"You mean, as in MISTRESS Verita?" Ed asked, the emphasis indicating both his understanding and his anxiety.

"Precisely," Veronica said firmly. "Consider it your final exam." Then, in gentler tones, she continued, "You'll have to face this type of thing, Ed, and it would be better alone, with me. Somewhere no one who might be a target of our investigation might see you, and recognize you as Edie. You'll have a safe word and a caution word. Say the safe word and all games will immediately stop and we will leave. Say the caution word and I will slow things down and let you get yourself back on a more even plane before continuing."

"What's the catch?"

"Ed, I won't go easy on you - I CAN'T go easy on you - but neither will I be unduly harsh or unfair," Veronica said firmly. "It will be, in my view, a fair test of what you can and cannot handle. If you need the safeword tomorrow night, then I don't think you can handle what you will surely face at a Black Rose open play party. And caution wording won't stop me - you're going to finish whatever I ask of you in order to pass the test."

"So it's do this or keep my word and back out, leaving the field clear for the pair of you to handle it without me?"

"That's the way it has to be, Ed."

"And although you can be a distinct asset to us, you must first be able to deal with being a sub on public display," Mary put in.

"Huh?" Ed gaped at the brunette domme. "Where did THAT come from and when did your 'he's going to be a problem' position change?"

"We have a situation upcoming where having a reliable submissive who is already aware of the situation would be advantageous, Edward. I know who passed along the forged application. She's Black Rose, and she's hosting a play party at her dungeon next week."

"So?"

"So," Veronica took over, "Mary can't attend - she's known to this woman as La Marquesa. If that woman is part of the conspiracy, Mary is the last person we want going there. On the other hand, I wouldn't necessarily be perceived as a threat. I could go there, and if I had a bit of a diversion, I might be able to search her office. I've been there before - on Black Rose business - so I know where she keeps her records."

"I, or rather, Edie, would be the diversion?"

"Owners can put their slaves up on display for other members to play with, within limits. Part of the game is to stand aside while this is happening, letting the official Dungeon Masters quietly enforce the sub's limits."

"How do you know I'd draw that kind of attention?" Ed obviously did not like the idea.

"Edward," Mary put in, "A sissy sub, particularly a very passable and attractive sissy sub, ALWAYS draws attention at such parties. And if you could manage an outraged, girlish shriek or two, so much the better."

"You're kidding, right?" he asked, looking from woman to woman.

"I," Mary said proudly, "Never kid."

"I do," Veronica piped in, causing a bubble of hope to form in Ed's clenching gut, "But not this time. Actually, it's a nearly perfect plan, too, because the Domme who's hosting this party LOVES sissy-play."

"Great," Ed said, his tone belying his words. "So . . . do I go down and get Edie's things and change here tomorrow, or do I meet you at your place after work?"

A gleam flashed in Veronica's eyes. "Oh, I think my place. That way, Edie will be surprised by her outfit. Bring your shaving kit with you, and shave your chest, arms, underarms, and legs tonight before bed. Oh, and don't forget your moisturizer - I want you baby-bottom smooth and soft."

"Want some help, Edward?" Mary purred. "I just LOVE shaving men . . .all ooover their bodies."

Both women howled at the fiery blush that suffused Ed's face.

 

Chapter 18: Little Revelations

It was amazing, and very disconcerting, Ed thought, just how self-aware the simple act of removing body hair made a guy. It didn't matter that no one else had the slightest inkling about what he was hiding, they were looking at him so closely there was a chance someone MIGHT get a clue.

Unfortunately, the stratagem he'd selected to cover-up his shaven state - a long-sleeved shirt and a three piece suit - had backfired. Dressing up was out of character for the normally laid back and casual team leader - something he only did when absolutely necessary - and his colleagues had keyed in on THAT.

The questions had started with Ken and Didi - who'd thought he'd forgotten to tell them about a client presentation again - to Derrick, who'd managed to get in a dig about Sears Roebuck suits. The end result was that Ed was getting more attention - unwelcome attention - about his appearance than if he'd simply shown up dressed as usual. "Should have just worn a pullover sweater," he muttered.

"Remember what I told you about anomolies, Ed," Veronica said from the entrance to his sparsely furnished cubicle. "People notice when things are different or out of place. You ALWAYS look out of place in a suit."

"I figured that out within half an hour of getting here," he sighed, setting aside the document he had not been reading. "But by then, it was too late. Changing would have only made it worse."

"A valuable lesson to take with you tonight," she said, settling into a chair.

"What's up?" Ed asked, cautiously. She didn't usually come to his cubicle, preferring to call him into her office, instead.

"I just got off the phone with Andrushka's people. They're not happy."

"Sorry, boss," Ed said, immediately contrite for his thoughts about why Verita might have come looking for him. Tonight was too much on his mind, he guessed.

"Nothing to be sorry for, Ed," she grinned. "They're unhappy because Andrushka is thrilled by our concept. They're coming in for a presentation and meeting Tuesday."

"TUESDAY?!?" Ed's voice cracked. "As in. . TUESDAY? Like, what, four days from now?!"

"Actually, they'll be here at ten, so it's more like three days plus a few hours." Then, Veronica became serious. "I'm sorry about the short notice, Ed. I think it's pretty clear her handlers are trying to squash us by giving us too little time to get ready, but they've underestimated you and your team, I think."

"Sure, build me up here, why don't you, boss? Okay, I'll tell Ken and Didi to expect to work the weekend and not sleep much for the next few days. . . . ummm, have you told Helen yet?"

"Nope. You're the first."

"Could you hold off cluing her in till Monday? If you tell her, she'll be here the whole bloody weekend."

"Okay, Ed. Plan on a pre-brief - say over lunch on Monday. That gives you time to fix anything that needs fixing before Tuesday."

"Okay. We'll do our best, Veronica."

"I already knew that, Ed," she assured him. Then she broke into a wide grin. "It IS a very nice suit, by the way."

"Enough, already, okay? I've already taken all of that I need from Mr. GQ himself - Derrick."

"He comes by that snobbery naturally, dear. Moneyed family, don't you know?" she said, mimicking a Boston Brahman accent. Then she saw the look on Ed's face, and stopped. "What?"

Ed looked around and shook his head. Rising, he beckoned her to follow him. Moments later, they were behind closed doors in Veronica's private office. "Okay, what's wrong?" she demanded.

"Money," he said carefully. "Mary said that whoever did this to me needed money, right? To be able to afford her services?"

"Yes. . ." Veronica thought about what she knew about Derrick. She knew he worked here, not because he needed the money, but because the scions of his family were required by their parents to 'prove themselves in the real world' before they were given authority and a place on the Board of Directors of the family business. She'd always thought it spoke well of the young man that he'd taken up the challenge rather than simply live a life of leisure on his admittedly huge trust fund. "But what could be his motive?"

"How in heavens name would I know, Veronica?" Ed demanded, beginning to pace the windowed-office. "He doesn't like me very much."

"That would make what was done to you personal, Ed," Veronica observed. "and I just can't see anyone disliking you so much to do something so cruel, not to mention expensive, for the sake of spite."

"He's hitched himself to Helen's star," Ed answered. "Your promotion is about the worst kept secret in the company. If Helen moves into your office, Derrick rides her coat-tails."

Veronica nodded at that, her eyes pensive. "And you're Helen's primary in-house competition, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not," he said firmly. "I hate being a team leader - I bloody well don't want to be the team leaders' leader."

"But you'd be so good at it," Veronica argued.

"If it isn't fun, why do it?"

"Well, you just said you hate being a team leader - why do that?"

For several long moments, Ed stared pointedly at his petite, auburn-tressed boss, then made his decision. "You."

"ME?!?" Veronica was utterly flabbergasted.

Shrugging, Ed stuffed his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks, and turned away from her. "Yes, you. I, uh, like being around you. . . working with you. Oh, gumdrops," he growled, spinning back around and slapping both hands down on her desk, making her jump in surprise. "I like YOU, darnit! I stayed because of YOU, okay?"

For the first time in her life, Veronica understood being 'at a loss for words', and yet, she had to speak - had to say, ask . . . "You . . you really like me?" she asked, and was immediately embarrassed at how adolescent that sounded. "Ummm, like that?"

"Exactly 'like that'," was the frustrated reply. "Blast it, Veronica! I was going to ask you out after I got back from vacation. I knew you couldn't say yes while you were my boss, but I was planning on going out on my own anyway - free lance. Figured then I could ask you for a date."

"A. . . a date," Veronica repeated, unable to stop playing the parrot.

"And then . . .then, La Marquesa happened, and well, I lost something . . . confidence, maybe, but I couldn't leave then. Part of that was because I wasn't sure about going it alone just then, but most of it was wanting to be around you."

"Even after that damnable Halloween party?"

He nodded. "Even after that, although I will admit that gave me pause. By the time I got mostly over that, the word was you were up for that Vice Presidency, and . . ."

The hard-charging executive in Veronica wanted to prod him, wanted to make him finish, but the woman in her wanted - needed - him to make his own admission.

"This is going to sound so lame," he muttered, an embarrassed blush coloring his face. Still, Veronica managed to hold her own tongue. "Well, I-thought-you-might-need-me!" he blurted, and then tried to explain. "I mean, I'm pretty good at what I do, and if there was anything you needed, I mean . ."

A single red-tipped finger touched Ed's lips to silence him. Eyes crossing, he looked down the finger towards Veronica's face, and saw her smiling. "Shhhh," she ordered softly, her confidence now back in full measure. "You're more than 'pretty good', Ed, and I did need you. Your Andrushka concept proves just how much."

"That was Ken and Didi," he averred quickly.

"I'm sure," she replied in a tone that belied her words. "I'm glad, Ed. Glad that you stayed. Glad that you stayed for me. Glad that you like me. Because I wanted you here, because I needed you here, but most of all, because I like you, too."

Ed felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders, and a goofy smile curl at his lips. "Like that?" he asked hopefully.

"We'll have to see, won't we? I think it very likely." Suddenly, the tiny redhead found herself airborne and spinning dizzily about the office. "Put me down, you idiot!" she ordered. He did, but kept grinning at her. "We still have issues to deal with first."

"Okay. . ."

"Like the bastard who did this to you, and delayed this revelation by six months, and . . . " now it was Veronica who hesitated. "And Verita."

Ed nodded. "She's a big part of you." It had not been a question. "Guess I have to be man enough to wear skirts for you, then."

"I'm serious, dammit!" she fumed back, suddenly hurt by his off-handed comment.

"So am I."

Shocked for the second time in less than ten minutes, Veronica's violet eyes snapped up to Ed's, and saw determination in those glittering blue orbs.

"I, ah, can be a real bitch," she warned, her voice nearly cracking. "Sometimes."

"Then, sometimes, I can handle it. At least, I think I can. And bitch or not, I suspect that, from what you told me about the Sisters, you won't hurt me - not really."

"You're fragile, still, Ed, and in areas that. . . pleasure me," she said carefully. "I don't know how much room for compromise we have there."

"Then we'll find out," he said, suddenly more cheerful than he'd been in months. "Starting tonight, eh? What time do you want me at your apartment?" before adding, "I think Edie is gonna feel like struttin' her stuff tonight."

 

Chapter 19: Der Femmi-maus

"Strut your stuff, indeed," Edie muttered under her breath as she made her way back up the aisle. It was intermission, and Veronica had ordered her to precede the petite domme to the refreshment area.

Alone.

"Oh, and be sure to stop at the ladies lounge on the way, dear. I'm afraid your nose is getting just a little shiny."

"Aren't you, uh, coming, too?" Edie had asked, heart suddenly pounding at the base of her throat.

"Maybe later, dear. You need it now. Just run along, cutie. Go strut your stuff!"

That little catch-phrase had become Verita's preferred order, ever since Edward had poured out his heart to Veronica. And now, Edie was going to have to face the women's john - alone, and THEN, face the wolf-pack of the refreshment lobby - also alone. Swallowing hard, Edie clung tightly to her beaded clutch purse, and tried to look 'not out of place' among the well-dressed wave of humanity flowing out of the music hall.

All the while trying to keep from bumping someone in front of her, thus giving said 'victim' an all too prominent clue as to Edie's real gender.

To divert her attention from her perilous situation, she replayed her evening to that point in her mind. Lord, but Veronica had teased her mercilessly from the moment Edward had shown up at her door. The multi-strapped harness she'd produced to "keep THAT under control" only made things. . . harder for the cross-dressed man. The little caress the sly redhead had rendered just before intermission - quite by accident, of COURSE - had nearly crossed Edie's eyes. The concept of being 'so hard it hurt' had never quite made sense to Edward before.

Until now, that is.

The ladies' convenience was, with the exception of a couple of stalls, mostly - blessedly - empty when she arrived. "Thank goodness," she whispered under her breath as she slipped into the first one she found open. On the positive side, having to deal with a long, formal skirt, a girdle, panties, a harness AND a gaff, Edie had no trouble remembering to sit to deal with her business. On the negative side, doing her business took a great deal of concentration - peeing through all that blood Veronica's little games had drained out of the skull into. . . locations below Edie's waist was NOT easy.

"Close your eyes and think of England," the feminized male ordered her feminized alter ego.

It almost worked, and finally, after nearly four minutes of straining effort, Nature's Call was answered. Straightening things up, she was about to emerge from her stall when the unmistakable sound of high-heels on marble tile brought her up short. Her breath caught, in spite of herself. Edie held very, very still as the 'click, click, click' receded down the row of stalls.

Fighting the urge to bolt, Edie walked purposefully up to the nearest vanity mirror and went about 'repairing' her face. "Be darned if I'm going to get chewed out for not fixing my nose," she fumed, "Not that it looks at all shiny to me." Still, she dutifully patted powder on the alleged spot, and then redid her lipstick - just to be sure. Then, stepping back from the ornate mirror, Edie give herself the 'final check'.

What she saw in those mirrored depths still surprised her.

The floor-length sheath - Veronica had assured her charge that the rich burgundy toned silk was just PERFECT for Edie - covered everything from just above the . . . mechanically enhanced bosom to the toe-crushing pumps that just peeked out beneath the hem, and hugged lovingly her corset-shaped figure. "Isn't that just perfect," Edie asked herself, in mock disgust, "Maroon-ed in the ladies room - in more ways than one - and both ways at the direction of the same woman."

With a critical eye, Edie checked her honey-blond hair. The expensive wig had been set in an elegant chignon, and crowned a face made almost beautiful by Veronica's cosmetic witchcraft. Still perfect, she was glad to note, for she had no bloody idea how she'd fix so much as a slightly errant curl without messing up the whole even worse. Then, Edie lifted a gloved hand to touch the dangling earrings, and to rest momentarily on the choker necklace that graced her throat.

Taken altogether, the picture in that mirror was, well, amazing. Edie had never looked this . . .well, good when La Marquesa had been doing the transforming. Veronica WAS extremely skilled at this.

Moving back to the vanity, Edie began collecting her cosmetics. Just as she returned the last item to the small clutch purse, a stall opened and a brunette, gowned in eye-startling blue, emerged.

All Edie's senses went immediately on alert, aware once again that she was an interloper in this fortress of feminine, but it was something more than that. There was. . .SOMEthing about the woman - something about her alarmed the cross-dressed man.

She didn't even look in Edie's direction, but in the end, it was only by extreme effort of will, and thanks to the too-small and too-narrow, three inch heels, that Edie managed to control the flight instinct.

~-~

Outside in the lobby, Edie's pulse was still racing from her 'almost-encounter'. Wishing fervently for the proverbial 'potted-palm' to hide behind, she kept to the periphery of the crowd milling about the refreshment tables. As covertly as possible, Edie scanned the mass of humanity, hoping to see a flash of red hair, or the sparkle of jewel-toned violet silk, but Veronica was no where to be found.

"You had to fall for a little one, Davis," was all she could think.

And then, it happened again. Out of the corner of her eye, something. . . familiar. Edie turned slightly, said something forgettable to an older woman, all the while angling for a better view of whatever or whoever was putting her nerves on red alert.

Then it became clear - or rather - SHE became clear. Some imp of mischief Edward would never have admitted, came out to play. Edie slipped into the crowd and made her way across the lobby so that she could approach her quarry from behind.

The woman was magnificent. In her ice-pick heels, she was nearly six and half feet of ebony beauty in a copper-toned gown of African design. Grinning, Edie reached up to tap a chiseled shoulder. "Hi, there, gorgeous! Long-time-no-see," she chirruped in her best 'dumb-blonde' voice and was delighted to see the Nubian Queen jump, "I don't think we were formally introduced before, although I remember YOU very well." She offered her hand to the wide-eyed and startled woman. "I'm Edie, by the way, and I believe you are Tamiqua? Or is it Shamarra, tonight?"

"Damn, honey, you scared the spit out of me," the woman accused in a breathless voice.

"Payback for . . . similar experiences," Edie laughed. "Are you here for operatic pleasure or are you keeping an eye on me?"

Obviously shaken, Tamiqua's eyes started scanning. "I don't know what you mean."

Oh, yes you do, Edie thought, and then realized something else. "And that was Consuella in the bathroom, wasn't it?"

"Who?" Tamiqua said, her voice almost cracking.

"That's so sweet," Edie gushed. "That means Mary's in on this, too. The four of you looking after me, even when you try to make me feel all alone and abandoned." The cross-dressed femme went up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to the other woman's cheek.

"I. . . I don't know what you're talking about," she retorted, "I don't know you. . .I . . "

"Don't worry, Tammi," a familiar voice said.

Edie spun and saw Veronica slip from her hiding place. "Gumdrops!" Edie growled. "That's a bloody potted palm!"

"So it is," Veronica chuckled, as she strutted up and put an arm around Edie's back. "And your point is, sweetie?"

"Just that I've been looking all over the lobby for one of those things - ever since I came out of the ladies' room. Seeing. . . or rather almost seeing Consuella kind of spooked me."

"I'm surprised you stayed," Veronica replied, carefully watching Edie's face for any sign of trouble. Finding none, she decided to take the plunge. "Seeing as how I insisted that you keep enough money in your purse for cab fare."

"You know?" Edie said in wonder. "That never even occurred to me. All I wanted was to find you.

"Why?"

"Because, I guess, I knew you'd take care of me. I never even thought of leaving."

This time it was Veronica who kissed Edie on the cheek. "I'm so proud of you, Edie," she said softly. "Now, come on, we'll be late for the second act. Have a good night, ladies," she said to Mary's two assistants. "And thanks for the watch-dogging.

"Will we see Tammi and Consuella again?" Edie asked.

"Do you want to?"

"Sure," was the quick answer. "Mary told me that they tried to stand up for me before - on the island that is. I want to thank them for that."

"Then we will be sure to see them some time soon. Now, hurry. I don't want to miss the opening aria."

"You really like this stuff? Opera, I mean."

"Love it. Why?"

Sighing, Edie followed the diminutive domme down the aisle. "Nothing. Ummm, do safewords work for opera?"

Grinning hugely, Veronica shook her head. "Nope. The opera house is a safeword-free torture chamber. For you, anyway. Now shut up and smile, slave."

"Yes, Mistress."

Edie thought about two more acts of sopranos whipping her eardrums, and then thought about two more acts of Veronica playing her games. It would be worth it, the womanly creature concluded happily. "Although. . .maybe I should hold my purse strategically in my lap. Just to keep up. . . appearances, don't you know?"

~-~

Edward savored his first full lung-full of air in nearly five hours. "It's like exercising," he sighed. "It feels SO good when you stop."

"Aw, and here I thought we were having fun," Veronica teased, hand-swatting his still-pantied bottom for effect.

"Oh, I did," he was quick to assure her, "but it's still good to be able to breathe again."

The petite redhead slipped the corset from his torso and set it aside. "Well, I will leave you to finish dressing," she said.

"But. . but, you haven't unlocked the harness-thing yet," he protested.

"So I haven't," she replied, suddenly sober again. "If you insist, I will unlock it."

"If I insist?"

She shrugged. "I'd prefer you wear it for awhile longer. . .for me."

"For. . .for you? But, what about. . "

"About what, Ed? It's designed for long-term wear, doesn't impede any eliminatory natural functions - just erections. At worst, it's only an annoyance. At best, you'll be constantly aware of it, and why you're wearing it . . and for whom."

"For you," he repeated softly.

"I did warn you that I could be a real bitch at times, dear. It excites me to think of you, locked in that appliance, subject to my whim and will. So, do you give me the gift of your enforced celibacy, or do you ask me to unlock it?"

"It's chained on me, Veronica. Suppose I need to get it off?"

"True enough. If I can give you a way out - emergencies only - will you wear it? For me?"

"Yes." The answer was simply and directly given, and the smile that answered him was all a man could hope for from a woman.

"Be right back. Oh, and could you keep the panties on, too? I hate boxer shorts."

"Yes, ma'am," Ed couldn't quite stifle the laugh that followed Veronica out of the room.

She was gone for quite a while, and he was fully dressed by the time she returned. When she came in, she held up what appeared to be a necklace - a gold chain with a oval locket about one and a half inches long by an inch across - for his inspection. Then she turned it so that he could see that the locket was of the type girls open to show pictures of boyfriends, or locks of hair.

"The key is inside," she said, showing him the catch release on the back of the locket. "However, I've sealed it in old fashioned red sealing wax. It will open easily enough, but you'll have to break the wax-seal to get to the key. If you do that, I'll know because I used a press seal to mark the wax."

"If I open it, I wouldn't hide that from you," Ed replied, somewhat offended. "I said I would wear the darned thing for you and I will - unless there is a bloody good reason to take it off!"

The short-statured domme had the grace to look abashed. "Sorry, Ed," she apologized. "Sometimes these power games can become a little too ingrained. Would you like me to clear away the wax and simply give you the key?"

The simple honesty of her offer moved him, and he shook his head. "Nah," he tried to sound off handed. "I'll take the locket as it is - wax and all."

"Then kneel, Sir Edward," she intoned formally. When he did, she ceremonially placed the necklace over his head - much like a military commander awarding a medal - and then kissed both his cheeks. "Time to go home, dear. I won't tell you to have a good weekend because I know you are planning on working on the Andrushka presentation."

"They didn't give us much time, Veronica. Telling us Friday that they're coming the next Tuesday?"

"You'll do fine. Just like you did tonight."

~-~

Ed tried to get comfortable in his bed, but it was impossible. Every time he moved, that damn harness . . .annoyed him. He should have remembered he was a tummy-sleeper, dammit, but what the hell - when Veronica had smiled at him, the only thing that mattered in the whole world was earning another.

And that, he told himself, was exactly WHY she'd wanted him to wear the cursed thing. It reminded him of her, and the power he'd given her to wield over him. Given her . . .yes, he had done that, hadn't he? As the song went, though, 'isn't that the way they always said it should be?' His free will to give in to her will?

She'd shown herself worthy of that trust, too, getting Mary's two girls to watch over him even when she tried to convince him she'd cut him loose to face the crowds alone. And the way those two had been dressed - really stunning women in eye-catching gowns - they'd have made one bodacious diversion if he'd gotten made by one of the patrons, or if he'd lost it somehow at a critical time or place. A good enough diversion that Veronica would have easily been able to have spirited him away before anyone had realized what was going down.

Damn, she was wonderful.

~-~

Veronica gave up trying to sleep, and rolled onto her back to savor the images swirling madly through her mind. Ed had been just so. . . so CUTE tonight, and so game. She remembered how he'd all but come out his seat when she'd copped that feel right before the first intermission. She wished she could have been the one to watch him in the ladies' lounge, but that wouldn't have worked. He'd done well in there, according to Consuella, and his makeup had been more than acceptable when he'd slipped back out.

He'd made Tamiqua - a fact that both surprised and pleased Veronica. It meant that Ed kept his eyes open and his wits alert, even when his sensibilities were taking a battering from the public play to which she'd been subjecting him. That boded well for the play party coming up. He'd need all his wits there if they had any hope of covertly pulling off that little scheme.

Oh, lord, and the look on his face when she hadn't unlocked the harness. Just the memory sent an erotic shiver through her belly. God, and then he'd TRUSTED her. . . after all he'd been through - including what she'd unwittingly put him through with that damned Halloween costume party debacle - he'd still trusted her.

It was just so . . . so beautiful.

 

Chapter 20: Bad Moon Rising

Ed was still tired when he got out of bed Monday morning, but it was a good sort of tired. He and his two teammates had put in nearly thirty hours on the presentation over the weekend, but in the end, it had been worth the effort. He was well pleased with the final product of their labors.

In the bathroom, he remembered to sit in order to perform both morning eliminations - something he hadn't remembered on Saturday until the damned appliance of Veronica's had recalled itself to him rather forcefully - just at the point of aim each time.

Actually, that was a real benefit of the weekend spent working with Ken, in particular. Ed was now very conscious of his inability to use a urinal. In the nearly deserted offices, he'd managed to avoid being in the restroom the same time as Ken, and thus had also avoided calling unwanted attention to his current total dependency on stalls and commodes. His pre-planned excuse, if caught and questioned, was to claim a touch of some stomach virus, but that wouldn't work for long. Maybe he would take to using the wheelchair accessible bathroom in the short-term. What he'd do if Veronica wanted him to wear this thing regularly was something he'd have to consider over time.

An hour later he was at his desk, running through the presentation one last time with Ken and Didi. "We're ready," he said finally.

"Agreed," Ken replied.

"I wish we had more time," Didi hedged, "but it's as good as we can make it without more time."

Ed nodded and picked up the phone. He waited until he heard the voice on the other end of the phone. "Ms. Johnson."

"Ed here," he replied. "We're as ready as we can be under the circumstances. It's time to murder-board the proposed campaign and client presentation. We still on to brown-bag it with you over lunch in the main conference room?"

"I'll have my secretary order sandwiches and get Helen in here," Veronica answered. "Any significant changes in approach?"

"Not really. We've smoothed out the wording and catch phrases a bit - made up some better storyboards and plugged it into the presentation software. Added some animation. I'll do the voice-overs live so that we aren't tied to the pitch in the event our guests want to ask questions."

In her office, Veronica smiled. So many ad-types hated that, wanting the customers to sit there and listen to their carefully crafted, 'perfect' pitches without interrupting 'their flow'. Not Ed - he just went with the customer's flow, and in doing so, never alienated a potential client. She idly wondered how many accounts he'd brought in because the client or the client's representative was pissed at some other agency's presenter. "Great. So, Ed. . ." Veronica let her voice drop down into a low, husky purr, "How are . . . things hanging? . . . . Otherwise, that is."

The darkly sensual overtones of that question had Ed's face going slack with shock. His brain instantly emptied of blood, dumping the bulk of that oxygen-rich fluid directly into his lap, only to be stymied by the grip of unyielding bands. . . down there. He swallowed, and tried to smile for Ken and Didi's sake. "They're fine. . umm. . .I'm, ah fine. Everything is. . .just fine," he managed to blather out.

"I'm so pleased," Veronica cooed, wishing she could see his face at that very moment. "And are you wearing your locket?"

"Next to my heart, ma'am," he managed with some measure of lightness. "See you at lunch."

"If not sooner," was Veronica's reply before the line disconnected.

Ed set the receiver down very carefully, and then looked up to see Ken and Didi grinning at him wickedly. "She, ah, is going to provide lunch," he told them because he couldn't make his brain function well enough to say anything else.

"Great," Ken told him.

"Yeah, really great," Didi concurred, and then both dissolved into laughter.

"What is so bloody funny?" Ed demanded.

It took Didi a couple of moments to compose herself sufficiently to answer.

"You are, you big clunk! We've known how you feel about her for ages, okay? You've been more than half in love with Veronica since the first time you met her, and from the sound of that little interchange, it appears that she's decided to let you catch her. I think it's great!"

"I think so, too, guy. Congratulations. That is one helluva woman. I'd sure as hell let her catch me if she had a mind to try."

"I am sure you are exaggerating," Ed tried to temporize without any success.

"Sure we are," Didi said, tongue planted in one cheek.

"Definitely. Blowing things completely out of proportion," Ken agreed, just as facetiously. "My only reservation is that when she gets booted upstairs, you'll leave, too. Losing two good bosses at the same time is a bitch."

"Enough!" Ed yelped, still reeling from the revelation that his secret feelings for Veronica hadn't been so secret after all. "Go set up the conference room for the presentation."

They left, but not without a bit more teasing. He watched them head for the conference room, and then began searching his desk for a rewritable CD. When things got really crazy, it was the little things - like standard office procedures - that gave a guy his balance back.

"And lord knows I need to get mine back right now.

~-~

". . . and subject to your questions, ladies and gentlemen, that concludes the formal phase of our presentation," Ed finished.

The conference room was again filled with the same key players - his team, Veronica, Helen and Derrick. The table was littered with hard copies of his slides, half-empty paper cups, and other detritus of a 'working lunch'. Only Ed's meal still lay untouched on his plate, since he'd been giving the briefing. "Can't very well talk with my mouth full, can I?" he'd asked when Veronica had told him to eat. That had been a bit of a half-truth. The real story was that he always got just a bit nauseous doing these things, and the last thing he needed was recycled pastrami all over his presentation notes.

"Helen?" Veronica asked, implicitly requesting the marketeer to take a position.

The slender blonde made a show of scanning through her notebook before looking up. "There might still be time to get a professional's voice-over tied to the presentation," she began. "I know this had to be fast-tracked, but I'm owed some favors. I think I could get someone in here this afternoon - tomorrow morning at the latest."

Ed started to speak but was cut off by Veronica. "I don't think that's necessary, Helen. And besides, we don't have time to fine tune something like that with someone unfamiliar with the project. Ed knows the pitch and can adjust it, if necessary, on the fly."

"But, that's not the way clients expect these things done," Derrick put in, warningly, " and the last thing we want is to appear amateurish. Maybe we could put off the meeting - say, a couple of days? Just long enough to smooth this all out?"

"The clients were most specific, Derrick," Veronica replied. "And I'm not sure this presentation needs smoothing, in any case."

"It's an awful lot of our eggs in one basket, Veronica," the young executive assistant said. "If we'd been able to be part of the process instead of getting told - after the fact - that it's a done-deal, we could have helped develop a fall back position, hedged our bets with alternatives. In other words, we could have had a sales position."

"I take it you do not consider this concept salable, Derrick?" Veronica's tones were mild.

Derrick suddenly realized he was on dangerous ground. "I think this could be sold, given time to give it the proper spin, but . . ."

"But?"

"But as we said last week, this isn't necessarily going to appeal to her people."

"Then, we'll have to live with that. This will, I'm sure, stand out from the pap other, lesser companies will come up with that only tries to ride Andrushka's current image." Then, Veronica looked back to the head of the table. "I say we go with it exactly as it is. Leave it on the machine in here, do it just the same way tomorrow, Ed, and I'm sure we'll have a new client within the month. Didi? Ken? Great job. Thanks. See you all tomorrow."

~-~

"Damn them!" Helen fumed after the others had left the conference room. "DAMN her!"

"Hey, ease up, boss. That decision of hers is going to work FOR us. We warned them, right? Even after they kept us out of the planning. Now, when Andrushka's handlers squash this like a bug for trying to make their Lolita grow up, we'll be the ones who were right."

"Are you in-SANE?!" Helen accused, "Or just fucking stupid?!" That campaign is brilliant, and no matter how much Andrushka's hangers-on want to keep the status quo, they're going to have to see that, too. Hell, it might even open up new career possibilities for her, if the little bitch shows she has any acting ability while making these ads."

"You think. . . I mean, . . . but that means Davis comes out of this smelling like a rose."

"Like the next managing director of this office, you mean, Derrick."

"But, how!? For god's sake, Helen, he and his team didn't have time to do anything decent. We made sure of that."

"Well, evidently they did come up with something MORE than decent. Not only that, Veronica is aware how time-constrained this project was, so he looks like even more of a hero-slant-miracle worker for bringing it off in almost no time."

"But. . but. . ."

"And don't think I'm going to forget who came up with the brilliant idea to withhold the project until the last minute. I think I will remember - very clearly - particularly tomorrow after the presentation, when all those money brokers are sitting there stunned by the ideas Davis and his team present."

"But, Helen . . Ms. Martin. . "

"Get out of here, Derrick," Helen ordered coldly as she stood up to leave the conference room. "Go home, and think about where you're going to work in two weeks. I need to think. I need to find some way to recover from this setback."

~-~

The office was deserted and dark as the night outside. Deserted, that is, but for the black-clad figure moving confidently through the shadowed halls. The intruder stopped in front of the one door marked 'Keep Out', pulled a small penlight from a jacket pocket, and slipped inside. The digital clock on the wall read 2:38 AM in large, red-glowing numbers that provided the only other light in the room.

~-~

Ed all but ran into the conference room to find a grim Ken staring at the presentation computer in total frustration. "Is it as bad as you said on the phone?" he asked.

"Worse," Ken told him. "The servers got fried last night, man. Some kind of fault with the UPS/surge suppressors. The machines are less than useless. Not only that, but somehow, the power surge got onto the network and damaged several of the user machines, too. Including this one. Hard-drive is corrupted."

"Well, good-golly-gumdrops. That's just great. What about the tape backups? Isn't that why the techies told us not to turn our machines off when we go home at night? So they could back up our computers for us every night?"

"All that worked, too," Ken told him grimly. "And if we had a working network server, we could use the tapes to recover, because what ever happened occurred after the backups were run, but without a working server. . . ," he left the conclusion unsaid.

"The presentation?"

"Gone, Ed, at least from this machine. Yours, too, I'm afraid - I checked your ocmputer as soon as I realized this one was dead," he added grimly. "It's in the same condition as this one was in when I got here this morning."

"Your and Didi's machine?"

"They're okay, but neither of us had a copy of the full pitch - just the stuff we each created. Then we put it all up on the network for when we all got together to integrate the thing."

"I just heard from Helen," Veronica said striding into the conference room. "Her computer's down, too, and she's got Derrick trying to fix the servers. How bad is it here?"

"We're out of commission here," Ken told her. "And no way those servers are coming back up anytime soon, either."

"We could rig a laptop, couldn't we?" she asked. "For the customer presentation?"

"No backups," Ken said, shaking his head. "Everything was either on the network, or on machines that are out of commission and can't be recovered until the network is back up."

"Surely, you MUST have a copy of the presentation? Somewhere?"

"No," Ken sighed, "we don't. It's not like this was an out-of-office presentation, Veronica. We figured that three copies on three machines was pretty secure."

"WAITAMINUTE! We DO have a copy!" Ed crowed, remembering. "Get your laptop, Veronica! I'll be right back."

Veronica had already returned, and was handing her laptop to Ken when Ed raced back into the conference room, triumphantly holding up the CD-R he'd used to back up the presentation. It was normal procedure when a team was going to a client's office with a presentation to take along a CD with the presentation, in case the laptop failed for some reason. Then, they could still make their pitch using another machine - even at the last minute. Ed had burned this CD more out of habit than anything else, but it would save their collective butts today. "Guess there's times when being anal is a good thing," Ken grinned when he realized what Ed was giving him.

"You don't know the half of it, Ken," Veronica said, at the same time giving Ed a pat and squeeze on his butt. "Being anal can be very, VERY good. Sometimes."

Ed felt liquid fire suffuse his cheeks, and had to swallow very hard before he dared speak. "How long to get set up, Ken?" he asked as quickly as he could, hoping to divert his colleague from Veronica's little innuendo to the task at hand. "I'd like to do another dry run before our guests arrive - just to make sure that copy of the presentation is okay, and that all the other conference room support equipment still works."

"Fifteen minutes, Boss. By the time Didi makes her usual 'sorry I'm late' appearance, we should be good to go here."

"Okay, I, ah, need to shave and change into my suit."

Veronica's hand found Ed's butt again, this time stroking the hard metallic bands that held the harness still in place. "Use my washroom, Ed. It's more . . . spacious than a regular stall."

Ed's eyes snapped over to Ken, but saw that his team member was too deeply involved in his computer wizardry to realize what Veronica had said. "Umm, sure, uh, thanks."

"Oh, it's my pleasure, Ed. Totally my pleasure."

 

 

 

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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.