by Emma York
“I say I want to go back to sleep.”
“Simon wants me to ring him back. What should I say?”
“What will it take for you to let me sleep?”
“You say yes.”
“Then yes!” I threw the pillow at her and she retreated, leaving me to collect the pillow as she closed the door behind her.
“Thanks Rosa,” she said from the hallway before I heard her footsteps creaking up the stairs.
I lay back and closed my eyes. I had said yes to get the job, to get the career I’d always wanted.
I thought I’d be laid for a long time, trying to decide if I could go undercover. But I was so tired I was asleep within minutes.
In my dreams, I was in some kind of film noir, cigarette in hand, walking into a smoky office, slats of the blinds casting horizontal shadows over the man sitting at the desk. He had a cigar resting in an ashtray and a glass of whisky in his hand. “So, Rosa,” he said in a gruff voice. “Ready to spill the beans on the billionaire?” The whisky turned into a can of beans and he handed it to me. “Don’t come back without a story kid. Do whatever it takes.”
“Sure thing, chief,” I replied, picking up a hat the shape of a typewriter and resting it on my head. Then I walked out of the office into a boathouse, Jamie rowing on the lake, me watching as sharks circled him in the water.
I don’t remember the rest but when I woke up, the first thing I did was check the room for sharks. A few seconds later and I realised even the most advanced shark probably hadn’t made it from the ocean to my carpet. Then I sat up.
The card was still there. The conversation I’d had with Emma came back to me. I dug out my phone. What choice did I have? I had to do this to get the job I wanted. That was the only reason to do it. I was not doing it just to see him again. I would stand up in court and say the same thing. Your Honour, I have no interest in his bulging pectoral muscles, I am doing this in the public interest, a noble thing indeed. I agree, your Honour, I should get a medal.
I rang the number, my heart suddenly racing, my breath catching in my throat. I coughed once, twice, and then was coughing a third time as it connected, the cough turning into a choked squawk. Good start.
“Mr Spencer’s line.”
Why had I thought it would be him answering. Of course not. His people probably didn’t even answer it. They probably had people to answer it for them to answer it for him. Or something.
“This is Rosa Harper, I-”
“Miss Harper, Mr Spencer has been expecting your call. Shall I tell him you’ve accepted his offer?”
The arrogant son of a bitch. He’d already made his mind up that I’d take him up on this. Well, I’d show him. I was accepting his offer but not for the reason he thought. “Yes,” I said out loud. “You may.”
He rang me himself five minutes later. I was just climbing out of bed, feeling I’d made a monumentally stupid mistake when the phone rang. I almost dived on it in my rush to answer. “Hello?”
“Miss Harper.”
His voice. His warm, rich, chill down my spine voice.
“Mr Spencer.” I tried to sound cool. I doubted it was working. I felt too excited.
“Tomorrow you will come to my office for nine in the morning. I suggest you research better than you did for the last interview.”
“Research what? I don’t-”
He cut me off. “Research the nature of dominance and submission. That is where confidence comes from. That is where we will begin our initial session. Do not be late.”
He hung up before I could say anything else. Five minutes later I was in Emma’s bedroom, recounting the phone call to her. “Research dominance and submission,” she said, parroting the words back at me. “What do you think that means? Reckon he’s going to get all kinky?”
“I doubt it. It’s confidence training, that’s all.”
“Bullshit. He’s going to spank you six ways to Sunday, I bet you.”
“I thought he was a slimy sod who needed taking down a peg or two?”
“That was before. He’s going to make you ride him into next week. Yeehaw, cowgirl!”
“Emma!”
“What? Ooh, I know what you need.”
“To wash your mouth out with soap?”
“You need to watch Secretary with me.”
“Really?”
“You’ve never seen it. You keep promising me you’ll watch it. It’s amazing and James Spader might be the only person hotter than Jamie Spencer.”
“In what way is watching that research?”
“You’ll see.”
So that was how I ended up in the living room with the rest of the household, all of us gathered around the TV to watch this supposedly amazing film.
I watched it in silent shock. The others spent the entire duration chipping in with helpful comments like, “That could be you,” as Maggie Gyllenhaal bent over the desk in James Spader’s office.
I blushed. That was something I couldn’t think about. I couldn’t start obsessing, not when I was only going in there to get a story.
“What did you think?” Emma asked at the end.
“I hope I don’t have to wet myself in a wedding dress while the guy who got killed in Lost gets confused, that’s all.”
“But do you see?”
“See what?”
“See what it’s about. Dominance, submission, confidence, it’s all there.”
I nodded but I got the feeling I was missing something, that she’d seen it from a different perspective to my own. “I should be reading psychology books,” I said, “not watching things like that.”
“You got more from that in an hour and a half than you would from any book. Trust me. When you’re in his office with him, you’ll be thanking me.”
“Will I?”
She nodded. “What do you think?” She looked at the others and they all nodded back.
“I’m going to bed,” I said, leaving them to talk about how repressed I was.
I couldn’t tell them the truth. I hadn’t told anyone the truth. It wasn’t the spanking. The thought of being spanked by Jamie was enough to send a little tingle through me as I climbed into bed. It was something much deeper that concerned me. I’d submitted before. Unwillingly.
I tried to reassure myself as I laid in the dark. I would be able to leave when I wanted. I was an adult now. This was someone I liked, not someone I feared. I was only doing this for an article and besides, it wasn’t like the movies. This was real life. He wasn’t going to tear my clothes off and spank the hell out of me. It would be a lot of business buzz words and telling me to think outside of the box in the blue sky with self-actualised perspectives and all manner of bullshit like that until I was talking like I was Mrs Pellham.
I wanted to back out. Could I back out?
I could but I’d make myself homeless, I’d lose the chance to do the only thing I’d ever dreamed of doing.
I did my best not to cry, my hand on my thigh as I laid there, feeling the little ridged scar where smoothness should have been. I’d never told anyone about it. I never would. Some secrets were not to be shared, Sub Rosa or not. Some things were supposed to be remain locked away.
SIX - JAMIE
Two mergers before breakfast. Reasonable start to a Tuesday. The first was finalised while I was running on the treadmill, it was only for a couple of million but still needed my final approval before it went through. The second was on the way to the office, this one refusing to go as quietly. Trying to fight me. As if that would work.
“It doesn’t bother me,” I said down the phone, trying not to sound irritated. “You can say no and then go bust in three months and I’ll just take over then. In fact, do that, it’ll save me a fortune over the merger.”
“But this isn’t a merger, this is another Spencer takeover in all but name. Thirty years I’ve built this business up from nothing.”
“And you’re running it into the ground, Burghini. Time for some fresh ideas, don’t
you think?”
“You don’t know what it’s like, born with a silver bloody spoon in your mouth, never having to fight for anything.”
“Listen, you have-” I looked at my watch, “-thirty seconds to give me an answer.”
He said yes. They always said yes. I knew his stock price better than he did. One more string to the Spencer Enterprises bow. “Pleasure doing business with you,” I said as I hung up.
Half past eight and I was sixteen million richer than when I’d woken up. Not a bad start to the day.
I rang Sally and told her to get the accounts people started on the paperwork. “Will you be joining us?” she asked.
“Not this morning. I have an interview to conduct. Is the room ready?”
“Everything’s set up just as you requested.”
“Excellent. Let me know when Miss Harper arrives.”
“Of course, Sir.”
Rosa Harper. Due in at nine. It was the highlight of my day. A very important interview.
I needed her to sign the contract. Once that was done, we were Sub Rosa and I could begin.
It was perfect. I needed her and she came along at just the right moment.
The club had been very clear, spelling it out for me as I sat in the tiny little office, not shown the rest of the club, hidden away until I was granted membership.
“Why do you want to become a member?” the white haired interviewer had asked me. I had yet to learn his name.
I had my answer ready. “Because I belong here.”
“Are you aware of the club rules?”
I had to shake my head, not wanting to admit I knew almost nothing of the place.
“They will be provided to you if your application is successful. Break a club rule and membership is revoked permanently. We do not give second chances to those who cross the line here, understood?”
“I’m sure I can behave.”
“It’s not just a matter of behaving, Mr Spencer. We run a very tight ship here and with good reason. More than a dozen Members of Parliament have passed through this office on their way out after breaking the rules. Each one of them threatened me with the full weight of the law unless I let them stay. Each time it amounted to nothing and do you know why?”
I shook my head again, examining the figure on the other side more closely. He was in his sixties, the white hair starting to thin, twisting a pen around his fingers as he talked. He didn’t seem in the least bit impressed by me. That was a first. I’d never met such indifference.
He continued. “It’s because we have our own way of dealing with rule breakers and we have built up a system over the years that works very well.”
“It is just a club though, it’s not some secret cult, right?”
“I do not appreciate levity, Mr Spencer. I was led to believe you were serious about membership.”
“I am, don’t think I’m not.” I hated saying those words, it made it sound like I was begging, not something I ever did.
“I have your form here and I am willing to make you an offer if you are willing to accept our terms.”
“Which are?”
“You will attend for the first time with a new submissive. You will bring her here and hand her over to me.”
“A new submissive? You want me to-”
“Bring a token of good faith with you, physical evidence of your skills as a Dominant if you will.”
“Done,” I said, taking his offered hand, shaking it firmly. “When-”
“You will receive notification of your required attendance. Good day, Mr Spencer.”
And that was that. The interview was over. It had begun with me filling in a very detailed form, listing assets, interests, desires. Then I had waited until this anonymous man had called for me. I only guessed he was in charge by the way he talked but I couldn’t be sure. For all I knew, he was an actor, hired to make the place appear more mysterious than it really was.
On the drive back, I thought about who to take with me. I couldn’t use any of the women from my past. They were submissive but either too angry with me to speak to me anymore or would spend their entire time at the club begging me to take them back. No, I needed someone else.
Then I thought of Rosa. Was it possible? It would require a number of steps. One, that she would take me up on my offer. Two, that she would sign the contract and begin the training. Three, that she would succeed in the training and then go to Harrogate with me, knowing she was for the club to use, not me.
I thought hard. I had never had a submissive who I’d seen after I was done with them. Was it a good idea to take her along to the club? But who else could I offer them? I could hire someone but that was against the tediously detailed terms and conditions document I had been given to take away with me.
I decided in the end that I could make this work. If I made her submissive enough, she would do it because I told her to, do it to please me. That would be enough. How long she lasted at the club, well that was the loophole. There was nothing in the terms about her leaving an hour after arriving, just that she was to be taken to the club and handed over. Then I was in. What happened to her after that was none of my concern.
I sat in my office Tuesday morning as nine o’clock came around. She hadn’t arrived yet. In irritation, I rang Sally but she’d heard nothing. To counter my frustration, I tried to read through the contract, making sure it was ready for her. But as the minutes ticked by it became harder to read. I wanted her here. I wanted to know why she was late. I had a sneaking feeling she might have backed out, changed her mind without telling me. What would I do then?
At twenty past nine, Sally buzzed me. “Miss Harper is on her way up.”
“Excellent,” I replied. “Send her through once she’s here.” I got up and turned to the tripod, making sure it was positioned where she could see it.
I wanted it to be the first thing she saw when she came in.
When the door opened, I was back behind the desk, watching her reaction as she entered. “Good morning,” she said, nervous smile on her face.
“You’re late,” I replied.
“I’m sorry about that, my housemate-”
I held up a hand, silencing her with a single gesture. She really was a natural submissive. “No excuses. If you sign the contract, lateness will have consequences. Let that serve as a warning. Sit.”
She took the chair and sank into it, her feet crossed under her. She glanced up at the camera, the tripod, taking it all in. “What’s that for?” she asked eventually.
“Photos of you.”
“Photos? What for?”
“So you can see the difference between now and when we’re done.”
“What kind of difference?”
“Later. First, the contract. Have a read of this.”
I slid the paper over the desk, watching as she picked it up in trembling fingers. Her eyes scanned over the lines. “Ten days,” she said. “Ten days shut off from the world?”
I nodded. “Ten days here with me. You do everything I tell you without question.”
“What if it’s something dangerous?”
“As you can see in paragraph three, there will be nothing done here that will inflict any permanent harm on you. Nonetheless, there will also be a safe word to be used only in an emergency. Be warned, if you use it, that’s it, there’s no coming back, you’re gone forever, and you’ll be billed for my wasted time.”
“I don’t know. It seems pretty intense.” She flicked back through the pages. “And vague as hell, nowhere in here does it say what you’ll actually do.”
“That’s because we are not Sub Rosa yet. Now stand up, I need to take some photos of you.”
“Do you have to?”
“It wasn’t a request.”
She got up. That was good. She was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of me taking photos but wasn’t protesting. That was a good start.
“Over by the bookcase.” I pulled down the prepared screen from the top of its
stand, creating a white backdrop. Flicking on the lights either side of her, I pointed and she moved to the centre, standing awkwardly, shifting on her feet.
I moved behind the camera. “Hold still, arms by your side.” Click. “Now turn to your left.” Click. “And your right. Now face the other way.”
She did as she was told and I took several photos, zooming in to her face towards the end. Then I took the step I always took, the one that told me whether they would enter through the locked door or not. “Change into that.”
“Excuse me?” she asked, looking where I was pointing.
“Change into that. I will give you two minutes.”
I walked out of the office before she could say anything else, leaving her alone in there. She had to make the decision and I couldn’t do it for her. She would do what they all did, pick up the bikini and look at it, wondering if this was some sleazy set up. Then she would either put it down, storm out and tell me to go to hell, or…
I collected a coffee and then returned to the office, pushing open the door to find her standing there, still holding it. “You aren’t changed,” I said as I put my coffee down on the desk.
“I’m not sure why I have-”
“You have to because I said so. This is about confidence. I have my methods and they work. It is not for you to question me, it is for me to question you. I will make this simple. Either change into that or leave.”
She looked down at the bikini and then up at me, seeing my face impassive. She looked confused, as if she was fighting with herself. I had seen that look before but never had I seen it on one so beautiful.
“All right,” she said at last, sighing heavily. “I’ll do it.”
“You have one minute.”
I stepped out of the office once more, counting down the seconds, wanting her to feel under pressure, wanting to keep her on her toes. As I reached zero, I was already pushing open the door, seeing her still tugging the top into place.
I stopped dead. She looked stunning. She had one arm across her stomach, her other hand grasping her wrist, protecting her body, her feet turned inwards. She was biting her bottom lip and she looked anxious as if she was seeking my approval. I had to work hard to keep my face neutral. “Over there,” I said, pointing to the white backdrop.