Contract Modifications

by Tigger
© 2002 

 

Part VII

 

Chapter 24: Promises and Premises

"At this point, Ms. O'Hurley, we've established - or at least accepted as a working hypothesis - that motive will be limited to Edward Davis' business associates. That's a short list, but so far we have been unable to discover anything that makes someone stand out."

"What about the promotion to Ms. Johnson's directorship? Doesn't that constitute motive?"

The investigator shrugged at that. "It's clear that Derrick Tolivar and Helen Martin are the most probable suspects for whom that would be a significant motive. At least, among those within his firm. However, it's also possible that there are those in other companies who might wish him ill."

"Frankly, knowing Ed, I doubt many of his customers are unhappy, but I suppose competing companies- as possible adversaries - might want to make him . . . less effective."

"Yes, ma'am. In any event, we have also looked into means and opportunity as the other classic elements of what amounts to a crime. Unfortunately, in this particular case, opportunity will not be helpful as a line of investigation."

"Why not? There aren't many who know how to contact me."

"Yes, ma'am. However, that is really more an issue of means. Opportunity deals with time and space, and effectively any suspect would have had time to initiate the . . . transaction during the period leading up to your . . . contract. However, as you say, not many people have the means to engage your services."

"I thought you said Derrick had enough money to pay my fees."

"Yes, ma'am. That is one measure of necessary means in this specific, and as we've already determined, both Tolivar and the Martin woman have access to the required funds. However, so do many of Davis' competitors. We are pursuing that line of investigation - looking to see if anyone has made any appropriately sized financial transactions in the relevant time frame. However, 'means' also covers access to critical information; specifically, to information about you and your. . . services."

Mary frowned at that, and then nodded. "Oh, yes, I see. So what have you found out?"

"Ms. O'Hurley, you have very effective security. My first approach was to see if I could arrange an equivalent . . . transaction . . . covertly. That would allow me to identify possible methods of contacting you."

"You did?" The utter . . . calm of his statement had her all but goggling at him.

"Yes, ma'am. However, I was unable to gain any line on your operation at all. I did make contact with other, similar operations - mostly located in Europe - but nothing that pointed in any way to you - and I began the exercise knowing I was looking for you - knowing what you do and where you do it."

"And found nothing?" Mary couldn't suppress a small niggle of pleased relief and pride at that admission.

Jack nodded. "Based on that, I believe that no other private investigator would be able to do so either, assuming they started without some special access into what you call, 'the scene'."

"I'm glad to hear it," she admitted.

"Indeed. However, that also means whoever instigated this must have, ah, 'special' access, or at least, special information. Ordinarily, having determined that such access is a requirement would help our investigation."

"Because it would narrow down the list of suspects?"

"Yes, ma'am. However, in this case, we were unable to find anyone who knew of you, so we were unable to check for common acquaintances with Davis' business associates."

"But none of them KNOW me!" Mary's felt her frustration growing, but knew her fury would be lost on Sergeant Friday.

"Someone knows" he said stolidly, "and whoever that person is, that's our man. . . or woman. Knowing about your business is the connection - the linkage we have to find."

"All right, then," Mary sighed, "let's go through your deep background checks on the various members of our little drama with an eye towards finding out who might know about me."

Nodding, the investigator reached into his attache and removed a stack of dossiers. "First subject, Derrick Tolivar. This is currently the most complete, as we fast-tracked him based on the suspicion that he directly participated in the kidnaping coverup scheme."

~-~

"C'mon, Ed, wake-up! It's time to go to the gym!" Veronica sang as she dealt the camel-shaped thing beneath the covers of her bed a resounding slap. The thing made a growling noise, and made to burrow under the pillow at the head of the bed. Laughing, the redhead grabbed the blankets and pulled them away, leaving Ed's head beneath the pillow and butt in the air. Being a domme, she couldn't resist the offering and laid another whack - this one not blunted by the thick comforter.

"Yeooowww!" he bellowed, rolling onto his back.

"Time to hit the gym, Davis!" she reiterated. "Low impact step aerobics today. You'll love it. Won't you?"

Looking at the glowing alarm clock, Ed was aghast to see that it was, "Five bloody o'clock in the MORNING?!?!? And you think I'm going to the gym where some 92 lb fiend in a lycra tutu tries to kill me?"

"Darling?" she said, mildly. "You get a choice. Ed goes, or Edie goes."

"You're kidding!"

"I never kid, and your choice is?"

Ed got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. "Never knew you were a sadist," he muttered under his breath.

"Keep it up, and we won't stop by your apartment for exercise clothing suited to your masculine dignity," she called to him from the bedroom.

"If I die doing this, I'd rather not have to explain why I'm wearing women's workout clothes," he grumbled good naturedly. "It would upset my doctor. Edie will have to wait until Ed is in better shape, and more coordinated, I think."

"Fair enough, sweetcheeks. Now more movin' and less jawin'. You REALLY don't want to make me late for the warmup!"

"Yes, Mistress."

~-~

"You did well, sweetie," Veronica assured him as they continued cooling down following the exercise class.

"Yeah. .." Ed gruffed, "Sure. . . I . . .did. God, . . .I wanted. . .to die. . . in there."

The petite redhead put an arm around his waist and laid her head against him. "You tried, Ed, and did your best. That means a lot to me."

"There's not . . .much . . .I wouldn't try for you, Veronica."

"Don't over load yourself like that when you're talking to a domina, guy," she cautioned sweetly. "You never know when I might just take you at your word."

Ed stopped short and turned to look her directly in the eye. "I meant it."

"Ed, that. . .that sounds suspiciously like you're making a commitment there, fella. You need to consider what that could entail - committing to me - to Verita."

"I have considered that, and it's what I want. . need. . to do - because it's you, and because it's me. If you were a sub, I'd try to be dom for you - because I want you - because I want to be WITH you."

"Well, I'm not sub, cutie," she grinned up at him.

"Lucky us."

They looked at each other for several long moments before Veronica smiled. "C'mon - I'll make you some breakfast and then we can go move your clothes to my place. And after that? We can go shopping for . . . what did you call them? Oh, yeah. . . for tutus."

Ed laughed at that, and then realized she was serious. "Umm, sure, . . .Mistress."

"Good boy."

~-~

Veronica looked into her condo's small den and saw Ed sitting inside, quietly staring out the window, his hands steepled thoughtfully beneath his chin. He'd been very quiet since they'd gotten back from their second trip to his apartment. Being in love with a man could really be a bitch, she thought. It was enough to make a normally confident woman doubt and question herself to death.

And yet, it was all so. . so new. . and so big . . and, yes, so damned scary. Scary, because the man she loved was still fragile from his experiences with Mary.

Well, she wasn't sure what planet her man was from, but she was damned well from Venus, and there was only one thing for a real woman to do in a situation like this. Taking a deep breath, she strode into the room, right up to Ed and settled herself into his lap. "We need to talk," she said, her eyes steady on his suddenly wide-open ones.

"ummm. . .sure, okay. . .uh, what about?"

Veronica cuddled into him, resting her head on his shoulder, and told him, "I think that's up to you, Ed. We might start with what's been bothering you since breakfast.

He was silent for several moments, and she was content to allow that. She'd made the opening - now it was up to him to trust her sufficiently to take it. She felt him sigh, deep in his chest. "I've been thinking about . . .about last night. Last night at the party," he hurried to add. "After the party, well - here with you . .that was . . .so wonderful that words fail me."

"I'm glad," she told him, "it was that way for me, too. As to the party? That was hard for you."

She felt him nod. "It was. . . and it wasn't." Then Ed chuckled. "That's really clear, isn't it?"

"It's a start," she assured him.

"I expected it to be a lot worse, and I was ready for it to be worse. I might have safe-worded if they'd started . . . lubing me," the words came out on a ragged breath, then he recovered himself, and continued. "That has some pretty awful memories associated with it for me - from, uhm, Marquesa's place, but I would have tried to handle it. Only now? Thinking back on how things actually went down?" Veronica nodded, but said nothing. "Like I said last night, I'm pretty sure that was your friend Calliope who redirected . . . things away from that."

"Probably," Veronica said. "She understood you were important to me, and that you were. . . inexperienced."

"She also provided the paddle they used on me. Again, from . . .prior experience, I know they used a pretty gentle implement."

"You were putting on quite a show - kicking and squealing like a little gir. . ." Veronica stopped herself in mid-tease.

"You can say it - kicking and squealing like a little girl. Glad you noticed," he said with a smug little grin that both surprised and pleased the petite domme. "The first whack caught me completely by surprise, even though I knew what was coming. I did, in fact, squeal - and rather loudly, too, I might add. The crowd, as they say in sporting events, went wild - laughing, cheering, ragging on the 'silly-sissy-sub'. It occurred to me that, if I continued to, ah, hold their interest, shall we say? - that would give you a better chance at finishing your search."

"Spoken like a true advertising genius," she said. "I was and am very proud of you - for the way you handled . . . all that stuff last night."

He laughed, and hugged her tightly. "I'm rather proud of myself, ma'am. And talking about it, just now? That helped, too - a lot. Thanks."

"You're very much like a woman in that way, you know," she told him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You tend to talk things out - to verbalize things - rather than go immediately on the attack when there are problems. It's one of the reasons you're so good at your job. That is a trait often associated more with women than with men."

"Are you saying that means I'm predisposed to being dressed like a woman?" he demanded.

"No, silly," she said quickly, only to feel the telltale rumble of laughter in his chest. "Oh, you," she grumbled.

They sat there, in comfortable silence, Veronica resting on Ed, each holding onto the other.

~-~

"Did you call Mary?" Ed asked later.

"Yes, I did. She had already passed the information on to her investigator, but obviously, he hasn't had time to do much with it."

"Okay. Guess I'm too impatient, but I will definitely be glad to have this behind me."

"Have you decided what you're going to do when we finally do know who is behind what happened to you?"

"I already told you that - ask them why."

"That's it?"

Ed shrugged. "What else can I do? It's really too late for the cops to be involved - the physical evidence is gone, or, at best, compromised. Besides, even if there were more than circumstantial evidence, taking legal action against whoever did this to me might endanger Mary. I won't do that."

"You're going to let them get away with it?" Veronica's violet eyes were flashing in her indignation.

"Well," Ed mused, "Suppose you and Mary are correct? If this does have something to do with the job promotion to YOUR job? I think I can trust you to find a way to extract retribution from the evil-doer or doers."

"You're awfully cavalier about this," she grumbled. "I'd want the bastards to pay - long and hard."

"I'm not cavalier," he told her, "I'm satisfied. _I'm_ the real winner." At her snort, Ed laughed. "Look, I didn't want the job to begin with, and wouldn't have taken it if I'd been offered it. Not only that, but I came out of this whole thing far better off than I ever dreamed possible."

"Oh?"

"You caught me."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

"Don't get too cocky, guy," she warned with a mock swat to his cheek. "So, what am I supposed to do now that my top candidate for my old job just took himself out of the running?"

"Lady, have I got a deal for you."

~-~

The phone rang that evening while Veronica was showering, so Ed went to answer the phone. "Veronica Johnson's," he said into the phone.

"Edward? Is that you?"

"Mary? Yes, it's me. What's up?"

"I need to speak with Verita, dear. I need to reconfirm the numbers on those bank transfers."

"She's showering - can she call you back?"

"Yes, but I am not at the hotel. Let me give you the number."

"Okay. . let me find something to write on," he murmured, riffling through the contents of Veronica's antique writing desk. He found a pen and a blank piece of stationary. "Okay, go."

Ed set the note down by the phone, and was about to go tell Veronica when the paper that had been below what he'd used caught his attention. It was, he realized, an engraved invitation with a gold-inlayed seal imprinted at the top. He read the top line.

The Sisters of the Delta of Venus

Wish to Invite

Mistress Verita and slave

To:

Ed sat down at the desk, and stared at the thick piece of parchment. He was still there when a be-turbaned Veronica, all flushed and warm from her shower, entered the room.

~-~

"There's insufficient hard evidence for this to stand up in a felony case, Ms. O'Hurley, but every scrap of circumstantial evidence points to Tolivar being the one who went camping in place of Mr. Davis."

"Insufficient?" Mary demanded. "You've got witnesses, Derrick driving Ed's car - what more do you need?"

"The witnesses only think they remember - a good attorney will slice that apart on cross examination. We don't have the tag number of the yellow Volvo so we cannot prove that it was, in fact, Mr. Davis' car Tolivar was seen driving."

"We know he did it, but we cannot prove it."

"That is the size of it, Ma'am. It might be enough for a civil case - conspiracy to deprive Mr. Davis of his civil rights or some such thing. The evidentiary criteria and the level of surety required for proof in a civil suit are a good deal lower than in criminal cases. He might win a significant monetary award. Unfortunately, he'd need your testimony to substantiate his claims, which would put you in danger of admitting, while under oath, to kidnaping him."

"Ed's already told me that he does not intend to pursue legal action."

"Then, Ms. O'Hurley, what is the point of continuing the investigation?"

"Several reasons, Jack. The most significant is that I need to know how this was done so that I can prevent its recurrence in the future. I also want to know WHO did it so that I can, ummm. . . counsel this individual NOT to try it again." At the investigator's warning look, Mary laughed, humorlessly. "Oh, nothing harmful, Jack. Just, ah, shall we say, firmly stated."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Now, anything on those account numbers?"

"Nothing yet. Those will be difficult - the Cayman banks are nearly as tight as the Swiss, and so far, we have found nothing to tie those numbers to a person or a business. We'll keep looking, but who ever did this was careful there. The money trail will not be easy to follow back from that bank."

"Keep trying," Mary ordered. "Anything new from the deep background investigations?"

"Nothing that immediately stands out. One of my investigators is still out in the field working Ms. Martin. She should be finishing that up in the next day or so. However, nothing has turned up yet that seems unduly suspicious.

"DAMN!"

 

Chapter 25: Points of Discussion

They were lounging together on a large, leather sofa in Veronica's living room. Ed was seated at one end of the plush couch, while Veronica was laid out upon it, her towel-turbaned head resting on Ed's lap. She was studying a report with rapt attention.

"They make it sound like a big deal," Ed speculated.

"Mm hmmm," Veronica replied, her eyes never leaving the document in her hands.

"I mean, custom engraving, gold inlay, and on real parchment? That stuff's costly, and you don't use it to invite the neighbors for a wienie-roast in the backyard, right?"

"Sure. . .yeah. . right," she muttered, and then yelped when Ed plucked the paper out of her hands. "Hey!"

"You're ignoring me on this, and that only makes me think it is even more important than I originally thought," he warned her.

"Why won't you let it DROP!?!?"

"If you tell me it's not important and mean it, I will," he offered magnanimously.

"It's not important," she parroted, "Now give me back my report."

"You're fibbing," he said, more solemnly. "I don't know quite how I can tell, but I can. Is it because of me?"

"Yes . . I mean, no. . I mean. . hell." She stood up and began to pace.

"Would you have gone? If not for me?"

That stopped her in mid-step. He watched her mouth open and shut, as she tried to formulate a response - then she sighed and sat down again, but not on the sofa with him. "Yes, I would have attended. It is special - kind of a fun party for Sisters and . . . and their friends."

"Their friends," Ed's tone was non-committal - his eyes were anything but.

"Yes, friends," she flared back, only to instantly cool. "Submissive friends - one to each Sister. It's a formal dining-in type of thing - a dinner party - with each member bringing a submissive to act as part of the serving staff."

"You usually attend?" He asked, again.

"Yes - this one will be the first I haven't attended since I earned my place among the Sisters."

"I don't understand why you can't still go."

"Ed, I would have to bring a submissive with me, and I don't WANT any submissive other than you."

"Good," he replied, suddenly feeling rather smug. "How do we RSVP?"

"Ed, I know these parties and what happens at them. You don't, and I. . ., well, I don't think you were ready for . . . for what goes down at those parties."

"That bad?"

"No, not 'that bad' - not for the people who normally attend. Intense is a better term - far more intense than anything you've yet experienced with me. That would pose a problem - for us - because I have a reputation for that type of play. Heavens, but every domme there would expect to be entertained by testing the subbie who has met Verita's high standards."

"Testing?"

"It's a common D/s euphemism for discipline, Ed - punishment. The party is, by design, one at which every sub serves, and moreover EXPECTS to serve every domme there, okay? Several Sisters don't attend this function for that very reason - either because they don't want to share their sub, or because they know their sub might not be able to handle the public nature and intensity of these . . .tests.

"You mean, some one else could. . someone besides you might actually. . ." There was something close to fear in Ed's eyes at that realization.

For one, shameful minute, Veronica considered using that fear, for it would suit her purposes very well, but she didn't - couldn't do it. The first rule of good dominance and submission was whole-hearted trust and honesty between dominant and submissive. She shook her head emphatically. "No, Ed, no one else will touch you without my expressed permission, which I would NEVER grant. However, if any Sister should decide that you need to be disciplined for some shortcoming, real or invented - and I can assure you at least one will find one, if only to see how you handle it - then I will be expected to administer the discipline. Publicly. And I can't be seen to let you off lightly. "

Relief washed across Ed's features, even as he returned to his previous question. "But you DO want to go, don't you?"

"That's immaterial, Ed. I know I like the games that will be played at that party. We haven't yet had the time together for us to find out if you do."

"I handled the stuff that went down at Lady Calliope's party."

"Do you really think that relatively gentle experience has prepared you for come what may, Ed?" she asked, quietly, only to continue before he could form an answer. "You're smarter than that, love. Look, as you yourself pointed out, you handled what you got there, in large part because Cal protected you, so that really doesn't count, okay? What little else we know about you in such situations comes from one demonstration, again under highly controlled rules and conditions, and from your time on Mary's island - which went very poorly through no fault of yours or hers. Ed, I love you for wanting to give me this, but we don't need to go - there'll be other times for us, and we need to explore your limits more fully ourselves before we do attend such an event."

"If it gets too tough, I could safeword, couldn't I? Or is this party one of those 'no-safeword-allowed' things I've read about on the Internet?"

Veronica shook her head, but then continued, "No function sponsored by the Delta of Venus is EVER no-safeword. However, so long as the sentence imposed on you is within the guidelines of the party, I'll have to execute it as directed. You can, as I said, safeword, but the Sisters all know the rules, written and unwritten, before accepting the invitations. Each Sister attending agrees that she and her escorting submissive will abide by those rules, and that includes the list of infractions and penalties. Ed, understand me, please, these women and their partners are serious players and they come to the dining-in expecting to play hard."

"What are you saying, Veronica?"

"At this party, so long as the disciplines are within the guidelines? Safe-wording will result in you being removed from the party - immediately - so that your. . . reticence won't inhibit the other players."

"Why don't I think that is all there is to it?"

"Because you're too damned smart sometimes," Veronica muttered, before looking up to meet Ed's eyes. "I'd be asked to leave, too, Ed, and I wouldn't be invited back for two years. Since they don't consider any of the punishments sufficiently extreme to warrant a safeword, the presumption is that, if a safeword is given, the submissive was not ready for such a venue, and that reflects badly on the judgement of the submissive's owner. And in your case, that just might be true, were I to let you get in over your head at such a gathering."

"I see."

Warning alarms sounded loudly in Veronica's head at the stubborn light she saw flickering in Ed's eyes. She'd seen it too often in the past when the man would not give up on a project. That he was usually right when he decided not to give up was, at this moment, immaterial. She brought out what she hoped, in light of his past experiences on Mary's island, was her big gun. "That's not all, Ed. I'm very well known for bringing sweet, simpering sissies in full French Maid regalia. The subs I typically invited to escort me in the past were ones who loved being the center of attention, even if it did get pretty, well, heated sometimes."

"Then I guess I need to learn to be a French Maid. The dinner is this weekend, and you will have a lot to teach me by then."

"Ed! I said NO!"

~-~

"Mary, I don't know what to do!" Veronica complained into the phone, "Ed's determined to escort me to the dining-in. He's even prancing around in those four-inch heels you gave me whenever we're home - just so he'll be more proficient in them by the party."

"So? Sounds like an excellent notion on his part."

"Mary, he's still not over what you. . what. . .I mean. . ."

"What I did to him on my island," Mary finished for her. "You can say it, Verita. I won't break."

"I'm sorry, Mary. It's just. . "

"I know, Verita - don't worry about it. For what it is worth, I'm rather convinced that Edward won't break, either."

"It's just so soon, so new to him - suppose he. . can't handle it?"

"You're talking about a gathering of Sisters, Verita. They won't let things escalate beyond what he can handle - especially when they see that he is the Chosen One in your life. They'll tease the hell out of him, but it will be in good fun. You know how bonded submissives are treated at their first function."

"We're not formally bonded."

"In all but law you are, and that will be immediately obvious to any Sister worthy of her broach. I think that if Ed wants to do this for you, you should let him. It will help both of you."

"Both of us?"

"Verita, you're handling him like spun glass wrapped in cotton-wool. You need to see him as the strong man he truly is - one who is in love with you, but who is, at the same time strong enough to let you lead, which he recognizes is your nature and your way. He needs to see that he can be Edie for you AND your friends, and come out of the experience none the worse for the experience. He does, indeed, NEED to get past what *I* did to him, and this should be a good, positive step."

~-~

Veronica sat in the dusk-dark room, pondering her problems and her options. It was all well and good for Mary to recommend attending. If Ed passed this test, she could go home to her bloody island feeling that he'd recovered completely from whatever trauma he'd suffered in her keeping.

But what if he couldn't handle it? What would THAT do to their chance at happiness together?

"Dammit, why is he even considering this?" she muttered. In a last ditch attempt to dissuade him, she'd even shown him the list of infractions and minimum/maximum punishments for the party - which was an infraction in and of itself, she recalled - only to have his chin go up in that obstinately determined way of his.

She could, of course, simply refuse to attend. It was an option - he wouldn't go without her - COULDN'T go without her - and as she'd told him, she didn't want to attend with anyone other than him.

Snatching up the phone, she punched in a number from memory, and counted the rings. She sighed in relief when it was answered midway through the fifth ring. "Hi," she said into the receiver, "It's me. I really need to talk to someone. . .to you. Can you make time for me?" she listened and managed a weak smile at the answer. "How about now? Really? God, thanks. I'll be there in ten minutes."

~-~

The woman who greeted Veronica at the door could have been anybody's grandmother. Dressed in a floor-length cotton shirt-dress over bare feet, wearing no makeup and with her silver-shot hair up in an 'I-love-Lucy' red-kerchief turban, she projected a palpable aura of home and comfort that Veronica had not experienced since the untimely death of her own Mother.

She could have been anybody's grandmother, but she was the Grand-Domme of the Delta of Venus, Lady Calliope. A faint scent of roses suffused the hug that the two of them shared after Calliope had ushered the younger woman inside the Painted-Lady Victorian mansion.

"Now, child, why don't you tell me what's bothering you."

"Oh, god, Cal," Veronica heard herself say before she could stop herself, "It's such a fucking mess."

~-~

The telling took the better part of an hour - during which Calliope said little while listening intently. Had Veronica been less upset - less single-minded - she'd have seen the wince of pain cross the older woman's face when Veronica had detailed the reasons behind her clandestine search of Calliope's records, or the stunned disbelief followed by silent fury at learning how Mary had been duped into abusing Ed. However, Calliope had long ago learned the value of letting someone else do the talking, and Veronica obviously needed to talk.

Finally, Veronica ran down. "So, that's all of it. He's determined to attend the dining-in, and I just don't know, Cal. Heavens, with his history, it could turn into an utter disaster."

"There's always that potential, dear."

"There's a great DEAL of potential, Cal! We haven't had time to explore his limits, yet," she complained to her mentor. "I mean, we've been in scenes together only four times. That's hardly enough time for us to learn what we need to know about each other."

"There's more to it than that, Veronica," Calliope said firmly. "While that . . . relative dearth of shared experience does concern me, at least with a submissive who is considering attending the dining-in, I don't think that's THE problem." At Veronica's confused look, Calliope smiled indulgently and took the smaller woman's hand in her own. "What's really bothering you, child?"

Veronica burst from her seat, unable to sit still a moment longer, and began pacing about the charmingly Old World sitting parlor. Calliope watched the tiny redhead storm about like a fire seeking something to burn. So much power in so small a package, she mused, so much intensity.

Veronica finally ran down, but couldn't bring herself to face the older woman, instead choosing to stand before the velvet-draped windows, staring out into the darkness. "I'm afraid," she said softly.

"Finish it, dear," Calliope finally spoke. "Afraid of. . .what?"

The petite redhead took a deep breath and sighed. "I could lose him."

A smile lit the face of the older domme, and she moved over to stand behind her protege. Running a maternal hand through the bright-red curls, she spoke in equally soothing tones. "Excellent, and therein lies your conflict, dear. Before your Edward came along, dominating men was something you did for profit, for fun - and sometimes, when you were particularly fortunate, for both reasons. While you cared for and about your clients and playmates, that's all they were to you. For monetary reasons, you were very careful not to push your clients harder than they thought they wanted, while you always vetted your private playmates very carefully before you even considered one of them as your escort to the annual dining-in. You knew what they could handle because you had already done all that and likely more with them before hand. More importantly, you were certain that your chosen escorts would enjoy the pageantry and intensity of the play they were sure to experience at that party. But your Edward is different."

"His time under Mary. . ." Veronica began.

"Is an issue, but not, I think, the one that has you in such a dither, love." The older domme turned Veronica to face her. "Verita, you love him - love with, as we used to say in my younger days, the capital "L". You want him in all the ways a woman wants her man - and in all the ways a woman of OUR particular bent wants her man - but at the same time, you're afraid to press him very far or very quickly. You're working too hard at protecting him, and from what? From whom?"

Calliope stopped, and fixed her gaze on Veronica. When the redhead didn't answer, the older woman sighed. "From yourself," she said softly, "That's who you're afraid will hurt and frighten him. You're trying to protect him from yourself."

Finally, Veronica nodded, her shoulders slumping. "It would really mess me up to scare him off, or have him feel about me the way he felt about Mary," she admitted.

"I know, but truly, my dear, is that REALLY something you need to worry about? You'll know why he's there at the dining-in, and Mary didn't when know those critical facts he was in her keeping. Besides, he held up pretty well the other night - even enjoyed himself or I'm no judge of a sub's screams."

"He, ah, figured that was one way to keep people's attention on him so they wouldn't notice . .I wasn't there . . while I was,. . .ummm, . . . well, you know," Veronica mumbled, feeling her cheeks heat up.

"Indeed," was Calliope's dry reply. "Well, I won't say I'm not. . . hurt that you could think I'd had anything to do with a . . . travesty. . .such as you described.. . "

"I don't," Veronica hurriedly put in, "Didn't. . . It's just that, well, I couldn't take the chance. Not . . . not with. ."

"Not with your Chosen One's safety. THAT I do understand, which is why I'm only a little hurt. And I'll admit, if it were my man in Ed's position, I'd have done things much the same as you did, so consider yourself forgiven. Now, back to the issue of the dining-in."

"I've thought about simply refusing to go," Veronica admitted.

"That is an option, but not, in my view, a very good one. Each of you have things you need to prove, dear, and this party might be just the opportunity for you both to accomplish that.

"Prove?" Veronica paused, remembering her recent conversation with Mary. "Well, obviously Ed's trying to prove that he has what it takes to. . . well, to take what I want to dish out."

"More than that, Verita - he's trying to prove that he is worthy of being your mate - worthy of having YOU as his Lady. Remember, he is a knight on a spirit-quest."

"Okay, I can see that, but what do I have to prove?"

"That you don't have to be afraid, of course."

"But . . . but what if he. . hell, he's my sub, it'll be WHEN not IF - when he gets a heavy sentence for some infraction? What then?"

"I think everything will turn out just fine," the Grand-Domme of the Sisters of the Delta of Venus said with quiet certainty. "And the sentence won't necessarily be THAT heavy - especially since you both have a friend in high places."

"I don't understand."

"Of course you do. Who, at the dining-in, has final approval on all public sentences, Verita? Ah, yes, I see you do remember, now. Your very own Fairy God Dommy. I promise that I won't let anything too harsh happen to your mate, child. Remember, if you please, that we are Sisters, and while we truly are evil-minded, sadistic and dominant bitches, we are first and foremost LOVING evil-minded, sadistic and dominant bitches."

 

Chapter 26: Face-Offs/Face-Ons

The phone rang, summoning a bathrobe-swathed Mary from her room service breakfast. "Hello," she said into the receiver.

"Mary? Ed Davis here."

"Good morning, Edward. It's a bit early for a purely social call, so you must have something on your mind. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you could help me with a little project, Mary. Here's what I would like to do. . ."

~-~

At 10:45 AM, Derrick looked up at the wall clock for what must have been the tenth time since the FedEX courier had arrived less than ten minutes earlier. Then he looked down at his desk, and regarded the detritus of what had been a sealed envelope . . . and the single sheet business letter it had contained.

Why hadn't they called? He could have. . . prepared for this. Hell, he thought, he could have called in sick. "Surprise, surprise, Derrick-my-boy. You have just won first AND second prizes in the agency 'aw-shit' contest."

He checked the clock again - 10:46 AM this time - and decided that lunch-time wasn't coming nearly fast enough. He had more than enough time to handle this before he could disappear from the office. Sighing, he gathered up the letter.

So what if he got killed doing it?

~-~

Helen Martin was trying to decide who among Andrushka's entourage she could call. She had to find out what was going on there - so she could set the right spin on things. Even if that foolish child DID force them to accept Davis' concept, there might still be some way to turn that to her advantage - so long as she knew it was coming in time to take appropriate action.

The problem was that she'd never thought that the customer might even consider the agency's proposal - not when she'd ensured the creative team would have insufficient time to cook up something glitzy - so she hadn't exerted herself to make . . . friends in Andrushka's camp.

She'd almost decided to call the girl herself when a soft knock on her door startled her from her ruminations. "Yes, what is it?" she snapped, her already frayed senses railing at this interruption.

Derrick Tolivar stuck his head inside the barely-opened door, looking as if someone had just kicked him in the groin. "Helen? I just got a FedEx you need to see. Now," he told her, his voice heavy.

~-~

"IT's HERE?" a secretary walking by Ms. Martin's office heard her shriek. "But. . .but HOW? WHY? For God's sake, Tolivar, WHY?!?"

For just the merest of moments, the secretary thought about seeing what was wrong, but immediately discarded the notion. After all, like most of the agency's secretaries, she couldn't stand the oh-so-perfect Ms. Martin who had well-earned her reputation as an utter bitch. As to that little creep, *MISTER* Tolivar - well, Ms Martin could chew on that skinny lying bastard's ass all she wanted.

And wouldn't this make for LOVELY lunchtime gossip to share with the other girls? Better not to know what was really going on, she concluded. Not knowing made it so much more fun, if not nearly so accurate, to speculate.

~-~

It was, Veronica decided, as she entered her office that morning, a task she had put off too long. Probably because she knew going in what the right answer would be, and didn't much like that option. Sighing, she unlocked the secure drawer of her filing cabinet and pulled out the stack of personnel folders she'd stored there several weeks earlier. She riffled through them, set two aside, and then began to read the first of the remaining ones.

That was how Helen found her when she walked up to the open door - face down, pouring over a document, and mumbling to herself as she made a pencil notation on a sheet of legal-sized yellow line paper.

"Got a minute?" Helen called from the entry.

Veronica looked up, stared at the woman for several moments, and then set the document back into the folder, using the pencil to mark her place. "What's up, Helen?" she asked.

"We've gotten a commitment letter from Andrushka's people. They want the concept our team put together, and, they want that team," Helen reported, strolling across to Veronica's desk and handing her the letter. She sat down in one of the chairs and crossed her long legs. "Which might be a problem, since we both know a shakeup is in the works."

There was just a hint of slyness in her statement, and Veronica wondered if anyone but another woman would have caught it. "Oh?" she replied, wondering where Helen wanted to take this conversation.

"Come now, Veronica, everyone knows you're getting the VP slot up at corporate," the blonde said in her best 'just us girls' tone of voice. "So, at least the titular head of the team Andrushka's people met with will be out of the direct picture, won't you?"

"Assuming that I AM up for that slot, we both know, and I must assume that Andrushka's people know also, that it isn't the director who makes the advertising campaign. They'll be working with the design team and with your office. The involvement of the director's office will be minimal."

"Well, that's true, so far as it goes, Veronica, but suppose the leader of the design team isn't there - the guy they saw give the pitch? The guy who sold them on the concept? Suppose he's not directly involved anymore. We could lose the whole project, don't you think?"

"You're talking about Ed, right?" the redhead asked, reaching over to pickup the smallest of the three stacks of folders on her desk.

"Well, of course I am. Look, it's also not a secret that he and I are the leading candidates for the directorship when you leave. As you just pointed out, the director's involvement in the, shall we say, the artistic end of the campaign is minimal, and also as you said, the client knows that, too."

"I see. So you think it would be in the company's best interests to simply . . . leave Ed where he is?"

"Makes the best business sense, Veronica," Helen said, as earnestly as she could manage. This little conclave was going just perfectly. Now, it was time to set the deal. "Wouldn't look very good on your record if the first big contract that came in house after you became VP left in a huff because they were unhappy with the new creative management team. Would it?"

Veronica rose from her seat, still carrying the folders, and went over to close her office door. "And of course, if, in the best interests of the company, Ed is no longer under consideration for the directorship, then, why that leaves only you as leading candidate for the promotion, right?"

"That would seem to be most logical, wouldn't you say? I mean, I know that still changes the team directly dealing with the client because I would no longer be in charge of marketing, but Derrick would have handled most of the grunt work on the marketing end of the campaign anyway."

"Of course, he would have done," Veronica agreed.

"And I would," Helen continued quickly, "naturally keep my fingers in there until I'm sure he's fully up to speed. It wouldn't do my reputation any good to have the campaign flop after taking charge, either."

"You've got it all worked out, haven't you?" Veronica asked, moving over to stand with her back to her desk, her eyes locked on Helen.

"Ed is very good at what he does, Veronica, but I think we both know he's hardly top management material."

Veronica held up one folder for Helen's inspection. 'Edward (No Middle Name)Davis' was neatly printed on the tab. "I guess I have to agree with that assessment, Helen," the petite redhead said, surprising the much taller blonde. "Would it surprise you to know that he agrees with us? Yes, indeed. In fact, he has taken his name out of the hat which is why his folder is in this particular pile." Veronica's eyes narrowed, and only with effort, did she manage to restrain the urge to lash out harder. "And would you like to know," she asked softly, "the name on the OTHER folder in the 'out of the running' pile, Helen?"

"I. . .I'm sure that's . . . really none of my business, Veronica."

"Oh, but it is your business because that file is YOURS!"

"Mine? But, I'm your best supervisor! My record. ."

"Oh, yes, your record," Veronica replied, reflectively. "Helen, do you really think I've MISSED the games you've been playing for the past six months?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Violet fire flashed in Veronica's eyes. "You SHOULD beg the pardon of the people who work for and with you, Helen. Do you think it is a coincidence that you've needed to replace your secretary five times in the last eighteen months? It's because you use people instead of leading them. The job of a manager isn't to make herself look good at the expense of others - the job of a manager is to remove obstacles to her people's success, so that THEIR success makes her look good. You haven't learned that lesson, and it shows in the way people do and do not interact with you. They distrust you because you've earned their distrust."

"That's not true!" the blonde flared back, anger coloring her face.

"Really? I don't think so. Your last little trick - the one obviously intended to make Ed look bad? Holding the Andrushka account until the last possible minute. Helen, that wasn't even subtle, and the only reason I didn't call you on it was that I didn't believe we could compete for that contract - wrong demographics and not really our metier. But Ed surprised the hell out of BOTH of us, didn't he? It was probably the short time frame that forced him to focus on the first good idea they came up with, but I don't think that excuses your little games."

Helen shot from her chair, "I must object to this. . .this scurrilous and offensive. ."

"Scurrilous and offensive? When you put YOUR ambitions above the company's interests?"

"You cannot prove anything because there's nothing to prove!" Helen retorted hotly.

"Oh, but I've carefully documented your performance, Helen."

"All you've documented so far is that I've had higher than expected turnover in secretaries!"

"For the better part of the last nine months, there have been. . .shall we say, little incidents - nothing major, of course. Nothing that might have cost us an existing client or account, but enough to put your competition in just a bit of a bad light. Lost invoices, late reports, a mixed up or missed appointment. Never to you, though."

"Because I'm good and I'm thorough, and the other supervisors are neither as good nor as thorough," the blonde replied, reasonably.

"Bull - it's because your colleagues are honest, fair, and for the most part, male. In the first place, you've got female guile over them, and, in the second, you have been using every sneaky, devious trick in the book to screw them over without them knowing quite what happened."

Helen started to reply to that, saw the surety in Veronica's eyes, and nodded. "Well, if it's going to be dog-eat-dog, Veronica, it's always best to bet on the bitch, isn't it? You and I can help each other. As director, I guarantee our performance will reflect well on you as VP."

"I already told you, Helen, your name is in the discard pile, and not because I object to your little games, although I do. No, you're out of the running because there is NO way this agency would EVER prosper under your leadership, and do you know why? For the simple reason that no one here will want to work for you. The good ones will leave, and the ones left behind won't be up to the drill. So, you are no longer under consideration."

"That wouldn't be smart," Helen said, her posture becoming subtly threatening, "I know that Ed is living with you, and I know about his little. . . fetishes. You don't want me as an enemy, Veronica."

"God, and I thought you were just ambitious and mean. I didn't realize you were stupid, too."

"How dare you. . "

Veronica locked her hands together on the top of her desk, and for just a moment, visualized grabbing the thick gold chain that hung about Helen's neck and using it like a bellrope to ring her chimes. "Now, you listen to me. I have enough on you to send you packing - it's all documented. All I have to do is make it all a matter of your personal record, say, on your next personal performance evaluation? You don't think there's anything there? Fine, try me, and when I'm done, you won't be able to get a job marketing anything, anywhere."

"It would. . .would ruin him. You wouldn't dare risk it."

The furious redhead took a tighter grip on her temper, and was pleased to see the taller blonde try to sit further back. "Helen? Ed has no worries in that arena - ever again. He's going to be a kept man from now on," she purred, "MY kept man, and if you hurt him? Even THINK about hurting him? You'll pay."

Carefully, Veronica stood and straightened her suit, and went to stand in front of her desk, still careful to keep her distance from the bigger woman. "Now, here's the deal, Helen. You can stay where you are - in your current position - if you choose. However, let me warn you that so long as I have any say in this company, you'll never get a promotion until you EARN it by being a team player. And before you decide? Let me tell you that I am ninety percent certain that Dolores Connors will be sitting in my chair next month."

"Didi?" Veronica watched as all color drained from Helen's face. "That.. that little refugee from Good Will who thinks torn jeans and a shapeless sweater are a fashion statements?"

"Yes. She reminds me more than a little of myself at that age - although I looked better in the jeans - and Ken will likely be selected to fill Ed's slot. I think we'll be able to convince Andrushka that the new team can pull off the campaign, particularly if Ed offers to consult on a freelance basis should they need him."

"Work for that. . . that nobody? I won't do it!"

"Naturally, that's your choice, Helen," Veronica replied, "but if you stay here, you will, indeed, work for her. Oh, and one more thing? Even if I choose not to document your recent misbehavior in my final evaluation of you? Didi will know about those games you've been playing, because she's been here to see you in action, and because I will tell her. Not only that, but I also will keep my documentation. Just in case"

"Consider this my notice, then," Helen snapped, surging to her feet. "Lets just SEE if you can run this place without me!"

"Would you accept two months severance pay with full benefits in lieu of notice?"

"Two months?"

"It's worth it to the company and to this agency to be rid of you if you cannot find it within yourself to work as part of the team."

Stunned at how badly this entire episode had gone, Helen could only stare at the stony-faced executive. Then she realized that she'd lost - completely. "I'll. . . . I'll take it."

"I'll call personnel and tell them," Veronica told her. "Clear your desk. Stop by personnel when you're done. The paperwork will be waiting for you - along with your check. Now get out of my office. I have work to do."

Shaken, Helen left the office - her movements stiff, her complexion colorless. She'd lost . . . everything.

~-~

Hours later, still operating in a daze, Helen finished packing her things. She looked up at the clock, surprised that it was after five o'clock. That meant there would be no one to help her move these boxes. Not even Derrick - the little snot had disappeared right after she'd filled him in on her disastrous meeting with that bitch, Johnson.

Well, she didn't want to make more than one trip to her car, so she'd go 'borrow' one of the rolling carts the secretaries used to move packages and mail about the office.

And she wouldn't bother to return it from the garage when she was done, either. As vengeance went, it wasn't much, but it was all she could come up with.

Or rather - it was all she could come up with at this particular moment in time. Time, however, was something she now had in abundance, thanks to Veronica Johnson. She'd find a way to settle with her.

~-~

Veronica was just finishing up the letter containing her recommendations on the subject of promotions, when her direct line phone rang. Annoyed, she considered leaving it unanswered, but then realized it might be Ed.

"Veronica Johnson," she said.

"Verita? It's Mary. I'm glad I caught you before you left for the day."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"My investigator just called. He's finished the background investigations, and is on his way back. We're meeting tomorrow night and I wondered if you'd like to be there - with or without Edward, which is why I wanted to catch you at work. So you could decide whether or not to include him."

Veronica sighed. "Wouldn't matter anyway, Mary. I have a prior engagement for tomorrow night."

"Oh? You've decided to attend, after all?"

~-~

Helen found a cart and was about to roll it back to her cubicle when she heard a phone ring, followed by Veronica's voice answering the call. Curiosity had her slipping quietly up to the open door and listening in on the half of the conversation she could hear.

"Yes, I've surrendered. We will attend the Annual Dining-In tomorrow night at the Hyatt. What's that? Oh, that won't be a problem - turns out one of the Sisters owns her own catering company so we'll have complete privacy. . . . yes, I am, and I am still not sure how I got maneuvered this way. I thought I was the Domme, dammit!"

~-~

Mary chuckled at that. "Remind me to tell you a few stories about how my lovely Sally runs my life for me. It's still a relationship, my friend, and just because they are submissive doesn't mean our little pets will allow us to have things all our own way. Especially if they think we're denying ourselves something or not taking proper care of ourselves."

"I see. Well, I'm going. You could come, too, you know."

"Sally's tied up - figuratively, at least, at home getting ready for my next client. Consuella and Tammi had to go back home to help Sally with the final preparations. Which is another reason I can't go, I'm afraid. I need to meet with Jack as soon as he gets back so that I can return home - at least for a while. I have commitments down there, too."

"I might have wished for the support, Mary."

"Still worried about Edward? I don't think you need to be. He really is quite presentable now as Edie - and Tammi observed that she thought he was having a good time at the opera, for all he was in a muck-sweat of terror when you cut him loose on his own. Anyway, when can I call you to fill you in? I'd like to do it as early as possible. There is a morning flight to Miami I would like to catch day after tomorrow."

~-~

Helen's mind was working feverishly, trying to find an angle wherein this new snippet of information might work to her advantage.

Suppose something happened to Veronica, or better yet, suppose something happened that called her judgement and her professionalism into question? Might that not change everything?

Of course it would - the Board of Directors were a bunch of conservative prigs! Why, she could get her job back. . . might even be able to convince those same higher-ups that she had been treated unfairly - prejudicially. If she threatened them with a lawsuit, they might be willing give her Veronica's job as part of the out-of-court settlement.

"Well," Veronica's voice continued, "The grand ballroom doors open at seven for the cocktail hour, with dinner starting at eight. I'm not planning to stay very late, so we should be home by one am. . .two at the latest. Sure, call then - I'm sure we'll be up. Okay. . bye."

As Veronica set the phone down, Helen slipped away to hide in her own cubicle. She'd leave after Veronica did, and would use the waiting time well. There were plans to be made.

 

 

 

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