Contract Modifications

by Tigger
copyright 2002

 

Part IX

 

Chapter 30: After the Storm

The very instant that the formalities of the dining-in were completed, Veronica had Edie on her feet, heading for the alcove. "Technically," she said under her breath, "So long as we're in the venue, you need to remain gagged, so I'm not going to remove the ring-gag until we're in the cloak room. Not after all you've gone through tonight to follow the rules perfectly."

"O-A," was Edie's panty-muffled response, the middle 'K' impossible with the ring still preventing her mouth closing to form the harder sound.

As they exited the main dining area, they were met by a female slave, acting as 'hat-check girl'. She was holding Veronica's cloak in her hands. "Mistress, your cell phone has gone off four times in the fifteen minutes since my Lady ordered me here. I thought it might be important."

"Thank you," Veronica replied, taking the coat and pulling out her phone. She read the display of missed calls, and recognized Mary's cell phone number. "Help my Edie out of her gag, will you please?" she asked, even as she commanded the phone to redial the missed number.

Edie was opening and shutting her mouth, trying to work the kinks out of jaw muscles unused to being held open quite so long, when she heard Veronica bellow, "HELEN?!?!?"

"What about Helen, Mistress? Did you see her here, too?"

The look of stunned disbelief on the petite domme's face answered that question. "Helen was HERE?!?!"

Veronica's demand was echoed by a surprisingly clear, if over-amplified, "Helen Martin was THERE?!?!? at the DINING-IN?!?" from the cell phone.

"Well. . .umm, yes . . .she was."

"We'll be at your hotel in fifteen minutes, Mary!" Veronica said into her handset, and then snapped off the unit. "Get my slave's cloak, please," she ordered the now-hovering slavegirl. "And be bloody quick about it!"

~-~

"Amelia Hereford was the owner of the agency where Helen worked during her modeling days. Prior to that, Helen evidently had trouble making ends meet in the big city, and was forced to try making a little extra money on the side posing for bondage and fetish photo-shoots. Amelia was a Sister," Mary directed this clarification to still femininely turned out Ed. "I know that's slim evidence, but it is the first inkling we've had of a connection between Ed and the Sisterhood."

"It's not as slim as you might think, Sister," Veronica said darkly. "Tell her, Ed, what you told me."

"Helen was at the dining-in. She was dressed in a French Maid costume. I almost tripped over her coming out of the Sissy's Restroom."

"You're certain of that? That it was really Helen?" Mary probed.

"I've nothing that we could use to prove it legally, because I only saw her clearly once, but yes, I'm positive the woman I saw there was her," Ed said firmly. "I've worked with Helen Martin for almost three years. I know her body language and her facial expressions. Heavens, but I've seen her wink at Derrick with just that look in her eye hundreds of times. It was her."

"Who brought her?" Mary demanded.

"We don't know, Mary," the other woman told her, "We think she may have crashed the party on her own because Ed didn't remember seeing her until. . "

"Until she poured something into Veronica's drink," Ed finished. "Then, before I could do anything, she just disappeared."

"Right after you all but ruined her professional future in the advertising business," Mary murmured. "Any idea what was in the glass?"

"Edie knocked it out of my hands, shattering the glass and spilling its contents."

"You could have collected it with a rag. I have. . .connections, Verita, who could have done some discreet chemical analyses."

"She couldn't tell me why because she was gagged, and was afraid to safe-code so she could warn me."

"And by the time I was upright again," Ed added, "Helen was already long gone."

"Besides, the analyses would only have confirmed whether or not she meant to do me ill. Are we really in any doubt about that?"

"You're right, of course," Mary agreed, pulling out her cell phone and then punching in a number. "Jack? Mary, here. Put Helen Martin under 24 hour surveillance - I just heard some new information, and there's no doubt in my mind that she's behind this mess. Yes, I'm sure. No, nothing we could prove in a court of law, but definitive nonetheless. Fine - just so long as I can lay hands on that bitch immediately when I'm ready to deal with her. Right. Thanks."

She closed the unit's clamshell with an audible snap, and looked up at the other two people in the room. "When WE are ready to deal with her, Sister," Veronica said, her voice gone icy cold.

"Make that 'WE' including 'ME', ladies," Ed interjected. "You're both too pissed just now for that kind of a confrontation."

"And you're NOT?!?" Veronica snapped.

"Oh, I'm angry, but you two are just plain mad - there's a difference. I want her ass - you want her guts."

"You were not the only one harmed by her, Edward," Mary said quietly. "I was used and abused - professionally, personally, spiritually. I will deal with her."

"And what about what she tried to do to me, tonight?" Veronica demanded.

Edie's still vividly made-up visage went dark red, even through several layers of cosmetic artistry. She nodded at that. "I understand, but let's find out if we can do it in a way that will hurt her the most. I mean, why did she do it in the first place?"

Veronica stared at him, and then began to nod. "To take you out of the running for the promotion. So she could get ahead." Then she turned to the brunette. "She wants power, Mary. Not the kind we talk about freely exchanging, but the kind she can wield to suit herself. So, maybe there's a way we can deny her any future path to that goal?"

"It's not enough!" Mary snapped.

"Maybe not," Ed agreed, "But it might be a start. Look, you two, it's late, and I'm still a bit . . off balance from the evening and the hour. Maybe we could think on this overnight and come up with something better when we're refreshed?"

"Well. . . " Mary was not convinced she wanted to wait.

"I'll make my Mom's special French Toast recipe - and I've got some lovely Valencia oranges to make into fresh squeezed OJ," Ed wheedled.

Mary weakened, but couldn't quite give in all the way. "I want my breakfast served by Edie," she said firmly.

"Done," Edie replied pertly. "Breakfast will be served at 9:30."

~-~

He hadn't said a bloody WORD to her since they'd left Mary's hotel room, Veronica fumed as she accelerated onto the interstate highway. Not a single blasted word since he'd thanked her for agreeing that a cooling off period until breakfast was the best course of action at that point.

And whose fault was that, she wondered, more morosely? She knew he had planned on tolerating almost anything once they'd gotten to the party - anything to avoid safe-coding and causing her to be exiled. Which, in a very basic sense, made what had happened to him on that dias her fault. Certainly Becka had stuck her unwanted nose into the mix, but if she hadn't, some other Sister probably would have done much the same thing. That was the way such things went.

She quietly cursed herself as she drove - even as she admitted what she had to do next. Something she should have done before this - WOULD have done before this - had she not been so upset and distracted by the recent revelations about Helen Martin.

She just HATED being in the wrong.

~-~

"I'm sorry."

The quietly spoken words almost didn't register through the miasma of madly dancing thoughts and images racing about Ed's tired brain.

"Huh?" he responded, looking up at the stonily controlled profile of Veronica.

"I said I am sorry," she said again, a little more loudly and a lot more sharply.

"For what?" he asked.

Veronica stole a quick glance at Ed, and was surprised to see honest confusion. "Why. . . for that scene - the spanking, the. . . ah, the second gagging. After last night, I was fairly certain I could . . . .ummm, get you off that way. I shouldn't have sprung that on you the first time during public play, but, well, I got carried away. I was showing off to my Sisters - making a guy - my guy - climax like that - you know, only by flogging? That's a pretty big deal in our circle - shows a lot of skill and a deep empathy for your submissive. That's respected in the Sisterhood. Anyway, I was way too into the power you were surrendering to me - way too into YOU - and, well, I completely forgot about the penalty for unauthorized orgasm during punishment. I'm sorry you got more than either of us bargained for because of my power-tripping."

"Oh. Well, I knew it was on the list when I agreed."

"But you didn't think it was very likely such a thing could happen to you, did you?"

"Well, to be honest, I, uh, was surprised. I didn't expect to, umm,. . reach orgasm quite that way . . . or at the party, for that matter."

"Orgasm is supposed to be part of play - at some point, anyway."

Ed nodded. "I guess, but that's the first time I ever . . . did."

That surprised the petite redhead. "You never came - in all the time you were with Mary on the island? For all the scene was simulating non-consensual activities, you were still a client. All kinds of warning bells would have gone off in MY head if your supposed contract had precluded sexual climax of any kind."

Ed snorted. "Oh, I didn't say that - Only that I never experienced anything like what you did with me. Mary made sure I achieved orgasm, but only when she meant me to cum. . . and that always involved. . . direct stimulation."

Veronica heard the hesitancy in his voice, as well as other underlying emotions. "Why do I think that doesn't mean just masturbation?"

"She. . . always finally forced me . . .to orgasm when she or one of her . . . helpers . . . raped me. . . with a dildo."

"I see," Veronica replied softly, her gloves effectively hiding clenched fingers suddenly white on the steering wheel. "You mean she was showing you how . . . feminine you were. That in spite of yourself, you could be made to climax like a women."

Ed sighed heavily. "That was . . . part of it, but not the worst of it. The worst parts were the promises they always made - right when I was. . . cumming. God . . I mean, gumdrops, but those were. . . were. . ."

"What promises, Ed? I want to help - NEED to help - but to do that, I also need to know it all."

"They'd promise that. . .that the next time, they'd bring in another of their slaves so I could experience the . . the real thing!"

"Oh. I see."

"It was in that DAMNED contract," he growled. "I saw it there, when Mary showed it to me."

"Did they actually do that?"

He shook his head, and then remembered she was watching the road as she drove. "No." he answered wearily.

"Thank God for small favors."

They lapsed into another bout of silence, the drone of car-tires on pavement almost soothing in the background. Veronica spoke first. "Are you. . . afraid of homosexuals. . . of homosexual lovemaking? Because of your time with Mary, and the . . threats?"

Ed didn't immediately answer. It really was marvelous, Veronica thought, to have a man who thought first and then reacted - especially when a knee-jerk, highly negative reaction would have been entirely understandable, given what he believed at the time.

"I don't think it's a homosexual thing. Several of the guys down in production are gay, and they're just guys to me, you know? Friends, even."

"So what is the problem, Ed?"

"It always hurt," he finally said, "when they. . . raped me anally. Even though they used lubricant, and even though I know now that they were. . . are skilled - and that they probably meant to be gentle - it STILL hurt. Every-single-time, and it hurt a very great deal."

"Could be any number of reasons for that, Ed," Veronica told him gently. "You were really frightened - which they didn't anticipate because what they thought they were providing you was this grand, sensual adventure. Since you were frightened. . "

"Try terrified," Ed grumbled.

"All right - terrified. In any event, you never really relaxed sufficiently for your muscles to accept the penetration without pain, which, in turn, made you even less relaxed. Then again, if they'd been told you were an experienced and enthusiastic player, they would not have prepared you as thoroughly as they might have; would not have known to deal with you as gently as they should have done with a virgin. And as you said, you did eventually orgasm each time, correct?"

"Yes."

"That only confirmed for them that you were . . . playing at being unwilling. That bullshit of 'if rape is inevitable, lay back and enjoy it' is just that - bullshit. They would have believed your orgasm proved your ultimate enjoyment of the game. However, that does beg the following question, dear. Do we put anal sex on our 'hard-limit-against-and-don't-ever- revisit-the-question-list'?"

There was another of those seemingly interminable silences. "You like that kind of play, don't you? I've. . . seen the strap-ons in your toy-box."

Honesty, again, she thought, and sighed. "I do, but I'm also selfish. That part of you would be mine and mine alone."

"I see. The answer to your question, Veronica, is that I don't know. For now, I think it is a hard limit, but . . "

"But?"

"I don't insist that we never revisit that question again."

Tears of love and pride prickled at Veronica's eyes, and she reached over to squeeze Ed's nearest, nylon-sheathed thigh. "Sounds. . .sounds like a deal. Thank you, love."

~-~

The Westminster-chime of Veronica's clock was signaling 2 AM when she opened the door to her apartment. "By the way, cute-thing," she said as she doffed her cloak and hung it in the foyer closet. "Since you've agreed to serve another Domme breakfast en femme tomorrow - I mean this morning - maybe you'd indulge YOUR Mistress just a bit tonight?"

Ed felt a tired grin curl his lips. "I'd love to, Mistress-mine."

"Great. I feel the need for a little girlish cuddling and bundling tonight. And I have the CUTEST little babydoll nightie that will look just SO sweet on my darling sissy-girl."

"Well," Edie said, trying manfully for a Valley-girl tone, "I'll have to SEE the thing first. I DO have standards, y'know."

And was nearly knocked off her high-heeled feet when Veronica jumped her with a wildly enthusiastic hug.

 

Chapter 31: Contract Penalties

"But, Veronica. . ."

"I don't CARE what you promised, Edward, you are NOT wearing a satin costume that must have cost HUNDREDS of dollars to fix breakfast!"

"But it's her costume," Ed wheedled.

"All the more reason not to get egg yolk and powdered sugar on it, right?"

"But, I don't have a THING to wear!"

That did it - Veronica couldn't help it - she burst into a fit of giggles, much to Ed's disgusted hauteur. "Do you. .. ," she managed to gasp out between giggle-fits, "Have . . .any idea . . . just how . . . girly that sounded?"

Nose high in the air, and tongue firmly in cheek, Edie retorted, "If it weren't true at least some of the time, it wouldn't become a cliche."

"God, you have got that outraged debutante act down PERFECTLY," Veronica howled, just before she wrapped him into a hug. Then she stopped, her eyes becoming sly. "However, you don't have to worry, Edie-darlin'. I, your Mistress, have the perfect solution."

"You do?" Now, there was wary uncertainty in Ed's eyes.

"Mary said 'Edie', but that's ALL she said, right?" the redheaded domina asked, smugly

Ed tried to remember, and then nodded, slowly.

"Perfect."

~-~

"There's the door," Veronica observed. "I'd say your guest has arrived, Edie."

"The pan's just hot enough, Mistress. Could you let her in?" Edie replied, and then cast a pleading look at the petite domina, "Please?!?"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. This is, after all, your party. Go answer the door, Edie."

"But, Mistress. . ." it was a whine. Edie knew it, and hated it, but couldn't help it.

"Answer . . . the . . . . door, Edie." There was steel in each distinctly enunciated word.

"Yes, Mistress," was the very unhappy reply.

~-~

Mary's smile of greeting froze on her face for almost five full seconds before her mouth fell open in nearly comical disbelief.

And then she exploded in laughter. "Oh. . .my. . . God! You look like Donna Reed's ugly painting in the attic! My GOD!"

Edie wanted to melt into the floor, more embarrassed by Mary's reaction then she'd been any of the times Veronica had dressed her and taken out into public.

Only this time, Mistress Veronica had very carefully dressed her sissy to the NEGATIVE nines - if that well. The house coat was floor-length, made of pink terricloth, and was ratty as hell. Fuzzy, white bunny-slippers peaked out from beneath the frayed hem. Calling Edie's current state of couture 'frumpy' was being either very kind or very blind.

But that wasn't the least of Veronica's efforts - oh no! What ensemble is complete without proper hair dressing and . . .cosmetics?

Which were precisely what drew the attention of the now-giggling brunette. "My god, Edie, your face is GREEN!"

And it was. "An avocado facial mask, Ms. Mary," Edie replied, trying to maintain as much dignity as she could manage under the circumstances.

"Lovely shade of lipstick, too," Mary added, even as she went up on tiptoe and leaned over - VERY carefully, to kiss the vividly vermillion mouth. "And, goodness me, your hair, dear. Didn't have time to brush your set out this morning?"

Edie swallowed audibly, her composure near cracking. "We. . . overslept, Ms. Mary."

Edie's coiffure quite crowned her presentation. Veronica had found a positively hideous, mustard-colored wig, and had then done it up in huge curlers. The devious woman hadn't been all that careful about how she rolled the hair, either, so it had a shabby, haphazard appearance that would have been too 'over-the-top', even for a 1950's episode of 'I Love Lucy'. A classic, old fashioned hairnet - albeit somewhat holey - completed Edie's hair-dressing.

At best, Edie looked positively clownish - and knew it. The only advantage to the costume, from Edie's perspective, was that the green muck hid the embarrassed blush burning her cheeks.

~-~

The breakfast, of which Edie was not permitted to partake, since as Veronica put it to her, "You are not dressed for company, Edie. Not a thing to wear, you said?", had somehow been even worse. The two dominas had had a wonderful time talking about the humiliated submissive as though Edie had not been there.

"Good Heavens, Verita, in all my years of feminizing men, I've NEVER seen one so. . . so thoroughly cowed by his sissified state . . . she's . . . she's perfect!"

Veronica nodded regally. "I'm quite pleased with the whole ensemble. For two reasons, actually," she said as the silent Edie poured more coffee for the two dominas.

"Oh? Other than that perfectly delicious reaction from the poor dear?"

"I was. . . annoyed that Ed offered to be Edie for you."

"Feeling possessive, are you?"

"Indeed. I am pleased that this was so effective in. . . bringing home that annoyance to her. I think my darling will be a bit more deferential to my prerogatives relative to Edie in the future."

"Oh, I'm sure she will be," Mary laughed.

"And, I must admit that I'm VERY happy that she's so very UNhappy being unattractive. A very positive step in her recovery."

Mary considered that, and looked at the green-faced submissive. "Is that true, dear?" she asked, more gently. "Do you feel better about being Edie now - knowing that your Mistress truly does care about you, and enjoys the feminine side of your personality?"

Edie's answer was immediate. "Oh, yes, Ms. Mary," she gushed, with the first real smile the brunette had seen since her arrival.

Mary was out of her seat and on the terriclothed figure before Edie could react. "MS. MARY," she yelped, trying to step back. "You'll get green gunk all over you!"

"I don't CARE!" she replied, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks.

~-~

The breakfast clean up had gone quickly, as both dommes had insisted on lending a hand - drying and putting away, at least. Naturally, Edie-the-sub was the one sentenced to brave the horrors of 'dishpan hands'. Then, the two women had turned their attention to 'helping Edie remove her cleansing mask'. Now that had been an experience akin to driving in downtown New York City during rush hour with two very demanding backseat drivers - overwhelming, highly stressful, and likely to drive a fellow to seek solace in a church or in a bottle.

Maybe both.

After that little task had been completed to Mary's and Veronica's extremely exacting standards, they had adjourned the living room for the discussions that had been the real purpose of the meeting. Ed still wore the ratty pink robe and the white bunny slippers, but having doffed the curlered wig and the face-mask, he felt human again. He happily snuggled up against Veronica on the love seat, opposite Mary who had taken the easy chair.

"We need to convince her to back off," Veronica was saying.

"That's NOT enough, Verita! Not for what she did to Edward, nor for what she tricked me into doing to Edward! She needs to suffer for that. We have to make her PAY!"

"That falls to her level, Sister. I say we find a way to ensure she knows she's on borrowed time, and tell her to get the hell out of Dodge."

"And just HOW do you propose to do that? She already knows about the Sisterhood, and our place in the Delta. She's bound to think she can use that knowledge against us."

"I think, Veronica," Ed said quietly, "that, having slept on this question last night, I agree with Mary's position."

"What?" both women gawked at the normally gentle man.

His face subtly hardened, as did his tone of voice. "She nearly cost me. . . a very great deal with her nasty tricks. If not for Mary caring enough to find out what I was up to, and without Veronica. . . taking care of me, I might have hidden from a very basic and essential part of my nature for the rest of my life."

"That may be true, Ed," Veronica said, putting her arm about his shoulder and leaning into him. "But what can we do to her? What would balance that loss?"

"Nothing would ever balance what she did - not really," Ed admitted, "But . . . but. . ." He stopped to regain the control that nearly slipped. Shaking himself, he continued, "She needs to understand what she did to me - what she TRIED to make Mary do to me. At least, give her a taste of what that was like."

"What are you saying? Kidnap her and spirit her away to Mary's island for a few days of . . . enforced rehabilitation?"

"Why not?" Ed demanded.

"Because that really would be kidnaping, Ed," Veronica said patiently, "And we can't put Mary at risk that way. She really WOULD be in danger of jail time were we to attempt something like that."

"I find that I am rather in favor of that idea," Mary said, smiling darkly. "And I DO have the connections to pull it off - I've done it several times, not even counting the time with Edward."

"You're crazy. . both of you!" Veronica retorted. "Just how would you spirit her away without anyone noticing?"

"They did it with me," Ed reminded her.

"And she doesn't have any close friends or family," Mary added, "Nor a job now, thanks to you, Verita. Who'd miss her for a few days or a week, eh?"

"It would only take one person to notice, Mary. She just can't disappear."

That silenced them all. No one spoke or moved for several moments as they each considered the problem. Then, suddenly, Ed jumped to his feet and began to pace. Mary's eyes went wide with surprise, and was about to say something when Veronica signaled her to remain silent.

Then he stopped. "It might work. . ."

"What, Ed," Veronica asked, familiar with his quixotic turn of mind.

"The key is to do to her what she did to me."

"We know that," Mary put in, impatiently. "Isn't that what I just said?!"

"No, I mean, yes, but it's more than that."

"How so?"

"She got away with it because I was already going to disappear for a couple of weeks, and everyone knew it. She just made sure anyone looking for me saw me doing what everyone expected me to be doing. Suppose, we got Helen to go. . . say, to some island for a . . .vacation - at least that would be the cover story."

"And just how would you get her to do that?" Veronica asked, intrigued in spite of her reservations.

"How about if I threaten to sue her unless she agrees to meet with me to. . . discuss other options?" Ed asked. "Someplace where neither of us would be in any danger - say, one of those independent island resorts in the Carribean?"

"Sounds like a nice idea, Ed, but isn't the idea that she'd agree to something like just a bit too long a stretch?" Mary asked. "Jack has already told me that he has enough circumstantial evidence to believe she's behind this, but nothing that would stand up in a felony case."

"As I understand it," Ed continued, "the standard for the rules of evidence in civil cases is somewhat less rigorous than in criminal cases. We might be able to convince her we'd have a case."

"I think that's true about civil cases, and I believe our Ms. Martin has sued a couple of folks during her working days - when she was a model if my memory serves me. If she does agree to the meeting, what then?" Veronica asked. "Mary's people grab her en route? I mean, assuming she knows about Mary's program, she might know the location of her island. We'd never get her to agree to go there."

"No. . ." Mary murmured. "We do it just as she did with Edward - as I did with Edward. We take her some place else - perhaps en route to some neutral venue - and transport her to my island as unconscious cargo. I have a girl - you remember Fraulein Hilda, Edward?"

"Oh gumdrops, do I!?!?" Ed looked pained. "Blonde . . Big. . not fat, but . . BIG. . and, ummm. . must play a great game of tennis."

"Good with a paddle, was she?" Veronica asked, suddenly amused.

"She prefers to call it shuttle-cock," Mary replied, grinning. "The point is, that she is also VERY good at stage makeup - a real artist, in fact. I think she'd be superb were we to cast her in a role similar to the one Mr. Tolivar played in Ed's adventure. Why, she could even drive down to Key West as if Ms. Martin were, in fact, going to my little, ah, health spa?"

"While, in the meantime, the devious bitch is already locked away in your filthiest dungeon," Veronica put in, suddenly getting into the spirit of the plan. "But, how do we get her to believe you're serious, Ed? I mean, wouldn't that mean convincing her you are ready to come out of the closet, so to speak? Maybe that I am, too? She may not believe we'd be willing to accept that kind of public scrutiny," the petite redhead noted.

Ed shrugged. "We'll just have to make a believer out of her, then. Look, for me, it's a matter of convincing her that I truly am sufficiently angry not to care all that much about the National Enquirer and its ilk. In point of actual fact, other than worrying how that kind of notoriety might affect my future with Veronica, I really DON'T care. Only Helen doesn't need to know that, does she?"

Caught up in Ed's vision, the two woman simply nodded, watching as he continued to think aloud. "You know? With a little help from Mary's investigator - making the evidence seem just a bit stronger than it really is? Oh, yeah," he breathed, looking up to grin wolfishly at his audience, "I think we can make her believe that I don't care about the possible publicity - and that I will, sure as God made gumdrops, sue her if she doesn't agree to meet with me for. . . ummmm. . . private negotiations."

"It might work," Veronica murmured, thoughtfully. "You know? She might accept the. . . invitation just for the opportunity to get you alone. We already know she's tried something with whatever she slipped into my drink."

"Exactly!" Ed agreed. "She might plan my untimely demise, or something, but she won't get the chance to do anything of that nature. Right, Mary?"

"Right, Edward," Mary agreed.

"We'd need a lawyer to make it stick," Veronica mused, "Someone really imposing."

"One of the Sisters?" Mary asked. "Any of the local Sisters an attorney?"

"We really can't use a real attorney," Ed put in. "They're officers of the court - there might be ethical problems for them to know I was effectively kidnaped and not do anything to my kidnapper. Heavens - there's real legal problems if she tumbles to the plan to kidnap Helen. That would make your Sister an accessory, wouldn't it?"

"Probably," Mary agreed, unhappily.

"Then who? We need someone she doesn't know by sight to pull it off, and she knows Mary and me." Veronica stated, and then saw the smug smile on Ed's face. "You?"

"THIS time," Edie's voice replied, airily, "I just happen to have the PERFECT outfit . . ."

 

Chapter 32: Edie Day - Last Minute Preparations

Edie was again less than attractive, but this time she didn't mind nearly so much. She stood in front of Veronica's three-pane, floor-to-ceiling mirrors, examining his reflection in minute detail as she had been taught. Her experienced eye could find nothing wrong with her appearance. More importantly, she couldn't find anything that might inadvertently clue-in Helen Martin as to the real identity of her soon-to-be uninvited visitor.

Edie laughed gaily at her now-natural use of the feminine personal pronoun 'she' and of the descriptive 'her' in her mental ruminations. She wasn't really 'pretty', but nothing about the young, hawk-faced professional woman peering back from the mirror's other-worldly dimension was in any way masculine, so the pronouns and descriptive terms were right. Not demeaning, not dehumanizing - not even de-masculating - they were simply right.

The tall, black-haired woman in the tailored blue business suit who stared back at Edie would have been welcome in any boardroom, any executive office, any courtroom. She wasn't really curvaceous - more the opposite, in fact, possessing more the slender, athletic build of the female distance runner. What minimal figure she did possess were thanks to a rib-crushing corset and a pair of very realistic, if very small, glued-on prosthetic breasts.

But that was the plan, for it was her transformed face they wanted to catch and then hold Helen's attention. Her formerly 'cute, little, nose' was now round and prominent - what the makeup witch had called 'Roman shaped' - almost identical, in fact, to Ed Davis' original 'pre-surgery' nose. That single change, when combined with eye-color-changing gray contact lenses, completely transformed her appearance.

Edie tried, very hard, to see some hint of Edward-the-man, or Edie-the-French Maid in that reflection - both of whom Helen had at least met and seen - and could find neither.

Taking a deep breath, she turned and strode purposefully to the living room.

~-~

Four people rose when Edie marched into Veronica's living room - Mary, Veronica, the investigator, Mr. Webb, and the Amazonian Fraulein Hilda. That imposing blonde had arrived at Veronica's doorstep within five hours of Mary's call to her island. She'd stormed in, obviously still furious after having been told the entire story about Edie's unwilling stay, and very remorseful over her part in that debacle.

Ed had been stunned - not just by the fact that she was so upset over what she had unwittingly done to him without his consent, but about the way she expressed herself and her outrage.

Ed's less-than-fond memories of 'Fraulein Hilda' had been of Ilsa-SheWolf of the SS, or maybe more accurately, Ilsa's REALLY nasty big sister. She'd even spoken with what had sounded to Edie like an extremely heavy, very gutteral, Germanic accent.

But, when 'Hilda' had first seen Ed, she'd all but thrown herself at him, begging forgiveness in a sweet-toned, Southern Belle accent right out of 'Gone with the Wind'. But the blockbuster hadn't come until Ed, still holding her, and allowing her to cry on his shoulder, had softly assured her that, "Of course, I forgive you, Fraulein."

Then, the oh-so-very-imposing, not to mention frightening 'Fraulein Hilda' had giggled through her tears - actually GIGGLED. "Oh, honey, y'all can call my by my given name - Peggy Sue."

A pronouncement that had stopped Ed in mid-pat. "Peggy. . . Sue?" he finally managed.

"What can I say?" she'd drawled, recovering herself and beginning to smile. "My momma just loved Buddy and the Bopper," which she pronounced 'Boppah', "so she named my little brother Buddy, my kid sister Holly, and I got named for her favorite song."

Somehow, the image still didn't quite work for Edie, but . . .

"You look fanTASTic, Edie-honey," Peggy Sue gushed.

"Yes," Mary said, more reservedly, as she gave Edie a thorough examination. "Perhaps her brows should be a bit thicker - more prominent? More like that artist, Frida?" Mary clucked her tongue, thoughtfully, and then shook her head. "Maybe not. I think she'll do. Verita?"

"I agree. The brows are fine, although I think we do need two more accessories." With that, she handed Edie a pair of black-rimmed, not particularly attractive eyeglasses - the kind that says 'functionality' and 'utility', but definitely NOT 'femininity'. Edie slipped them on and was glad to find that the lenses were only plain glass. "And this."

'This' was an exquisitely jeweled broach - an golden equilateral triangle with a stylized platinum letter 'V' inside the figure. With great care, Veronica attached it to the left lapel of Edie's suit jacket. "It. . . it's lovely, Mistress."

"Consider it a loan, Edie, as I want it back, but I must say, I like seeing it on you. Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Just remember, you're a female shark and she's lunch. ENJOY playing with your food, and don't take too big a bite at any one time. We want her to bleed some first."

Edie drew back her lips into a wicked grin, and snapped her teeth together audibly. "Ready to feed, Mr. Webb?"

"When you are, Ms. Delacourt," he replied, using her cover name. "I will carry the briefcase with the dossier inside. I think it should serve the purpose requested by Ms. O'Hurley."

Hugs were given and returned, and then, the pair was gone, leaving the three women quietly staring at the door for several moments. "You know," Mary said, finally breaking the silence. "I think that's the first time I've ever heard of a male wearing the Delta of Venus. It's for certain the first time I've ever seen a male wearing our emblem."

"I thought it would work to our advantage," Veronica replied. "That bitch knows about the Sisters - the broach should lend credence to Edie's cover as a Sister herself. I just hope it works."

"I have great faith in Jack," Mary reassured, "And of late? I've learned to respect your Edward's ability and determination, as well. Helen Martin is just a bitch - and to be sure, a dangerous one if left. . . unattended - but she's about to be muzzled and put on a very short leash." An self satisfied smirk lit up Mary's face. "And finding out, in the end, that it was Edward who did this to her? That will devastate her, and destroy her self confidence. After today? She ceases to be a threat. I promise you that."

"Thanks, Sister."

~-~

Once he'd parked the car in the underground garage of Helen's high-rise condominium complex, Webb turned to face Edie. "How do you want to play this, Ms. Delacourt?"

'Ms. Delacourt' fiddled with the ornate broach at her lapel before responding. In truth, she'd been thinking about that particular question ever since the plan had begun to take shape. As she saw it, there were two ways to play it. One, she could let this quietly imposing man present the case. That had the advantage of keeping attention off her, and Webb certainly looked dangerous. One the other hand, she could take the lead, and present their 'case'. That meant she'd be the one on whom Helen focused, and there was that chance, small though all three dommes thought it was, that Helen might

'read' Edie.

She sighed. "I want to do it myself, Mr. Webb." That sounded like a child trying to write her name for the first time or ride her first bicycle without Daddy holding the two-wheeler upright, but so be it. "I want to be the one who sets her up, so that when she falls, it will be a lot longer fall and a lot harder landing."

"Agreed," was all he said, even as he deactivated the car's electronic doorlocks - but there was a hint - just a hint - of something approaching a smile on his face as he said that.

Reaching a decision, Edie slipped the broach from her lapel and into one of the suit jacket's pockets. "Let's go get it done, then," she said firmly. Then she spun on her bottom to put both high-heeled feet demurely on the paved floor of the garage, and rose to face her personal test.

~-~

What Helen had planned to be yesterday's celebratory breakfast still lay - now cold and stale - on her dining table, while crumpled newsprint littered the surrounding floor space. Frustration was rapidly giving way to rage as she scanned the latest papers for any word, any news about a local business woman receiving emergency treatment for hallucinogenic drugs. She'd decided that the advertising agency, using their financial relationship with the newsies, might have been able to keep things under wraps the first day - the day after that infernal party - but surely everything should have broken by now. Some enterprising young journalist would have to have seen the professional benefit of breaking the story about a prominent figure - a prominent FEMALE figure - tripping on illegal drugs.

But there wasn't a single WORD about Johnson in this morning's papers either, Helen raged, and the word HAD to be made public! Otherwise, her plan to discredit the little bitch wouldn't work, which meant that her slim hopes for staying on at the agency, and perhaps even filling Johnson's position were still less than zero.

She was trying to decide what to do next when her doorbell rang. "Who can that be?" she asked herself, checking the wall clock. "Nine-thirty on a Sunday morning?"

Helen walked over to her door and checked the spyhole. There was a black-haired woman with standing there - someone was behind her but he was too tall to be seen. "God, what a beak on her," the blonde mused. She considered not answering, so she could brood some more on her problem, but her curiosity won out. She unlocked and open the door. "Yes?" she said, her voice as neutral as she could manage.

"Ms. Helen Martin?" the woman asked.

"Yes, I'm Helen Martin," the blonde replied, looking up at the tall, powerfully built man accompanying the brunette.

The woman offered a card. "My name is Davinia Delacourt, Ms. Martin, of the firm Delacourt and Buchanan. My colleague and I represent Mr. Edward Davis. May we please come in?"

Alarm bells went off in Helen's head, and she reassessed the pair as she scanned the elegantly gilt business card. 'Attorneys at Law," it read. "To what purpose?" she responded, cautiously.

"Ms. Martin, we are here to offer you an opportunity to avoid being called to court as the primary defendant in a civil law suit brought by Mr. Davis."

"A lawsuit?" Helen nearly goggled, but managed to maintain her pose of control. "What is this? Some kind of stupid joke?"

"Whatever 'this' is, Ms. Martin," the Delacourt woman said, her voice suddenly cold, "it is most definitely not a joke. Stupid? You may choose to think it so, but it is not a joke. Now, you can let us in, and we will discuss this in a civilized manner, or we will serve papers on you within the next week. Your choice."

For a moment, Helen considered calling the woman's bluff. Then, caution overcame that urge, and she decided that knowledge was power. She needed to know what this was all about, and the only way to learn that was to let the woman and her hulking retainer in. She could handle this, she told herself. Hell, any lawyer stupid enough to ally herself with Davis couldn't be all THAT dangerous.

~-~

"So, if you agree to meet with Mr. Davis at the island resort I just mentioned, he is willing to forego taking you to court."

"Assuming what you said was true, which I deny," Helen said, coolly, "the moment I walked out of that meeting, what's to prevent a half dozen cops from taking me into custody?"

She was tough, Davinia aka Edie aka Edward thought as she finished summarizing their 'evidence' for Helen. The blonde had hardly blinked wrong during Davina's little monologue. "You can research the facts for yourself, Ms. Martin, but the island in question is not a U.S. possession, and moreover, does not have what one might call a. . . friendly or reciprocal relationship with our law enforcement agencies. That is what makes the island so popular with certain elements of the illegal drug trade who need a stopping off point for their smuggling trips into Florida. You'll be quite safe there, and anything you might say or admit while there would be very difficult for us to have placed in evidence against you here in the States. However, having said all that, Mr. Davis will, before the meeting, sign a document absolving you of any culpability in regards to the matter of his. . .holiday."

"I could walk out the moment I had the document in my hands," the blonde scoffed, "leaving dumb Eddie empty-handed to go with his empty head."

A momentary flash of anger she could not quite control flared in the brunette's heart. She took a moment to control it before continuing, her words quietly forceful. "So you could, but my client feels that just your insistence on it answers the questions he needs cleared up in his mind. Besides," the dark gray eyes went cold, "You might want to gloat."

"I'd laugh if I weren't so pissed off," Helen growled. "That's just preposterous. You have nothing - nothing but circumstances and poor attempts to link unrelated happenings. Kidnaping Ed Davis," her snort was derisive. "As if I would waste that much time, effort and money on that. . . that nonentity."

"Really? We don't think our case is weak, Ms. Martin - anything but - and please recall, that we don't have to prove our position beyond a reasonable doubt - not in a civil case. We know our evidence isn't good enough for a felony case. If it were, trust me, you'd be talking to the police and a public prosecutor right now. However, what we do have is MORE than good enough for a civil case. Mr. Webb, the dossier, please?"

The silent man removed a sealed manilla envelope from the attache he'd carried, and handed it to Davinia. She looked at it thoughtfully, and then tossed it negligently onto the coffee table that separated her from Helen Martin. "That's our case, Ms. Martin." The words were spoken with cold malice in each syllable. "We think it is so good, that we're showing it to you, up front, so that you can show it to your own attorney, if you wish, just to get a second opinion." The woman rose to her feet. "If you wish to discuss Mr. Davis' terms for keeping this little escapade of yours out of court, and of course, at the same time out of the public record, you'll follow the directions inside the envelope. If you have any questions, of course, you have my card."

~-~

Helen stared at the thick envelope and then looked up at the lawyer. "Why?"

"Why what, Ms. Martin?"

"Why are you doing this? You're a woman - why are you representing a man against a woman?"

An expression of what could have been either hate or disgust contorted the brunette's already sharp features. Helen saw her start to respond, and then stop herself. She watched as Delacourt slipped a hand into her side pocket and withdrew something that Helen couldn't quite see. The large-nosed brunette stared at the object in her hand for another moment before turning dark, angry eyes at Helen. "Because you misused him horribly, and just as horribly, you misused my Sister, Mary O'Hurley," was the soft, almost frighteningly intense answer. Delacourt brought her hand to her lapel and pinned on the Delta of Venus.

Helen's mind tried to reject the evidence of her eyes when the woman's hand fell away and she could finally make out what 'it' was. "Oh my god," she breathed, her eyes wide with disbelief. ."

"Indeed, Ms. Martin," the lawyer replied, looking down her nose at the stuttering blonde. "Amelia deserved far better in her last years than a conniving witch like you. You used and abused her, just as you did Mr. Davis, and we plan to see that you pay for ALL your crimes against the Sisterhood and their Chosen. Good day, Ms. Martin." Davinia Delacourt spun on one heeled foot and headed from the room, her large, silent associate on her heels.

~-~

"Did you plant it?" Davinia asked as the elevator took them down to the garage level.

"In the foyer. We'll know the instant she next leaves so that my operative can go in and finish the job."

"And if she uses her cell phone?"

"That will be handled, too. I know her phone numbers and we have a bugged unit ready to activate. Just a matter of picking her purse twice to swap them."

"Lord, but I hope this works."

~-~

Helen was rereading the report left by the bitch-lawyer for the third time. Fury bubbled up inside her as she followed the time line of what she had believed to be a perfect scheme written down in black and white.

They had it all, she realized, every part of her perfect plan - Derrick's impersonation of Davis, the account she'd used to pay O'Hurley's exorbitant fee and her connection to the Delta of Venus through Amelia Hereford. They even had a copy of the photo-set from that damned bondage shoot that had brought her to Amelia's attention all those years ago. Every detail was there and every detail was correct.

The package was too complete for them NOT to have the goods on her. They KNEW, but was that really enough? After all, she only had that wolf-ugly lawyer's word for the surety of her losing the lawsuit. And that was the key question here, wasn't it? Only another lawyer - one armed with full disclosure of the real facts - could answer that question for her, and she couldn't risk 'full disclosure', could she? Depending on the lawyer, that might not be in her best interests. He might be as unscrupulous as she was, and decide to take advantage of her, or he could have real ethics, which might be worse.

If there evidence were that good, why not just sue her? The award for damages, not to mention pain and suffering, would be huge!

Her mind chewed on that for a minute, and the answer was obvious - Davis didn't want his time at O'Hurley's little summer camp for slaveboys to become grist for the tabloids. He'd be crucified in the scandal sheets if what had happened came out. So, why did he want her to meet with him on so isolated an island vacation retreat? To entrap her? Get some type of admission of guilt from her and then turn her over to the cops? That wasn't admissible, was it? She didn't think so, but she'd have to check with a lawyer to be certain, and again, that didn't seem like all that good an idea.

What was in it for Davis? More importantly, what was in it for her? She needed more information, she decided, starting with the particulars about this island vacation resort.

The decision made, she grabbed her purse, tossed in her cell phone, and headed out the door of her condo.

She was in too much a hurry to do more than snarl at the idiot who nearly tripped over her as she strode from her building's lobby - in too much of a hurry to see the tiny, self-satisfied smile the curled the man's lips as Helen rushed uptown toward the public library.

 

 

 

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