“No, that’s not what I want,” Tara insisted. Mistress Krystal waved a dismissive hand.
“You could use this place, too. We can work out a deal, split the rent.”
“No, no, no, that hadn’t crossed my mind at all. You’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I just want to….”
“Spice it up in the bedroom with your husband? Hun, you don’t need to pay me three hundred big ones cash to learn how to do that. Anyway, think it over. It’s a good offer.”
Tara was blindsided by the suggestion. It had never entered her mind. She had absolutely no intention of becoming a professional dominatrix though she felt strangely flattered that Mistress K thought that she could hack it if she wanted to. Tara simply wasn’t made of the same mental toughness that her tutor possessed. Inflicting pain on strangers, day in, day out was not her bag.
She was growing impatient and now her adrenalin levels were starting to soar as the clock ticked closer to six.
Back in Frank Bergenson’s office, the mood was very different. Fitz was all smiles as he sat in the serenity of Frank’s corner office. Frank walked over to his drinks cabinet and poured himself a large dram of Glendronach but didn’t offer any to Kurt Fitzgerald.
Fitz’s phone rang. Molinaire’s name came up on the caller ID.
“Hang on, Frank. I’d better take this.”
“Go ahead.”
He picked up the call. “James, what can I do for you, sir?” Fitz sounded like a willing servant eager to please his master. He listened to his instructions. “Absolutely. I’ll Fed Ex those out to you today.”
Frank Bergenson reclined silently in his plush leather chair, drink in hand, while Fitz continued his call. “No problem. Anytime.” Fitz hung up and smiled at Frank. “He’s happy.”
“Good,” said Frank Bergenson as he sipped the amber nectar in his whisky glass. “Seems you and our favorite client have hit things off rather nicely.”
“Clem just can’t admit that anyone else can do anything better than him. He’d never have approved a campaign he wasn’t involved in,” said Fitz, feeling victorious.
“Trouble is, Kurt, you two assholes are going to kill each other if I don’t resolve this thing soon and announce my successor,” Frank frowned. “I thought Clem was the man to fill my shoes but if he’d stolen that account to start his own agency we’d be in huge financial trouble and we’d be stuck with you in control of this place.”
Fitz’s comfort level suddenly went down a notch.
“Stuck?”
“You know what I mean, Fitz. I’m sure Chuck Svensen would feel that way.”
“He’ll get over it.”
“We both know Rebakor is a trigger-happy client who’s fired every agency they’ve ever had. They’re big bullies who are used to getting their own way. Why should they treat us any differently?”
Where was this soliloquy leading? Fitz wondered.
Frank continued. “Now, I don’t know whether you’re a better man than Clem Drew for the job but I’ve averted a potential crisis and created a situation.”
“Situation? Stuck? What are these words you’re using, Frank?” Fitz was puzzled. He didn’t like being slighted like this.
“I don’t know precisely what went down in Louisville between you and Molinaire but I’m getting the distinct impression you threw Clem under the bus.”
“It was all your idea, Frank!” Fitz raised his voice in disbelief.
“I wanted you to get tighter with the client so he would get used to working with you and not just Clem. And you went and told him Clem was out playing golf?”
Now Fitz was on the defense. “So what? Molinaire loved the campaign!”
“I can’t believe you said that.”
“I didn’t. Charlie blurted it out.”
“Well, you need to go and fire Charlie Knutson!” Frank shouted. Fitz took a deep breath. He sat quietly for a moment thinking hard.
“Can’t we just reassign him?” Fitz suggested. His unauthorized attempted coup de gras at Rebakor was now coming back to bite him in the butt.
“Sure, we can reassign him -- to another ad agency, preferably in another town.” Frank finished his drink. He banged his empty glass down on his desk and appeared frustrated with the situation that he’d created. He’d wanted Fitz to create a wedge between Molinaire and Clem, not a canyon. But he was running out of time now. He stood up and wandered over to the window view. As he stared out at the downtown skyline, Fitz’s eyes followed him across the room.
“Do you know Mike Beresford over at Fallon?” Frank asked, as he watched a passenger jet fly off into the distance.
“Yeah. Creative Director over there, isn’t he?”
“What do you know about him?”
“Smart guy. Won a ton of awards.” Fitz had no idea where this conversation was going.
“Is he happy over there?”
“Damned if I know. He’s a creative man. Those guys are never happy. Look at Svensen. You gonna bring Beresford over here?”
“No. Chuck’s a good CD for us.”
“Why d’you ask then?”
“Beresford’s been getting tight with Clem. He called Clem out the blue the other day. Wants a meeting with him.”
Fitz raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? How’d you know that?”
Frank turned around and walked back to his desk. “Because I know everything, Fitz. Even before it’s happened.”
“I need to get that package out to Molinaire.” Fitz stood up to leave but Frank wasn’t finished with him yet.
“That’s why I know you’re an arrogant asshole, Fitz. That’s also why I hired you.”
“Geez, am I meant to take that as a compliment?”
“Yes. Because I’m an arrogant asshole. That’s how I got to be where I am today. This business has no room for nice guys.”
“What are you getting at?” Fitz looked puzzled by his boss’s statement. “Jesus, is this trash Fitz day?”
“On the contrary, I want you to come to our board meeting next week. I want the directors to meet their new CEO.”
“Seriously?”
Frank was handing him the job of CEO on a plate right there and then. If there had been any doubt in Frank’s mind it had now, suddenly, been resolved. The simple fact was that Rebakor was the cash cow and Molinaire seemed to like the scheming Fitz. To Frank, it was a no-brainer. To Fitz, it was everything he thought he’d lost and the nail in Clem’s coffin.
“Fantastic. I’d love to.” Kurt Fitzgerald felt a powerful surge of fabulousness spread throughout his entire body that made him want to punch his fists in the air and scream from the top of the Kemp building. He’d done the impossible. He’d trumped Golden Balls. The old man had finally laid his cards on the table and they had come up trumps for Kurt Fitzgerald.
“Not a word, hear me,” Bergenson warned him, knowing how Fitz must be feeling. “Keep this under wraps.”
“Absolutely, Frank. You can trust me on that.”
Bergenson leaned across and shook Fitz’s hand. The deal was as good as done.
CHAPTER 14
It was close to showtime. Tara sat back on the barstool and pulled her latex boots high up her thighs. She’d drank enough tea to last her a lifetime. Now she was ready for something decidedly stronger.
“This next one’s an interesting character,” announced Mistress Krystal. Tara’s eyes widened.
“In what way?”
“He’s some big shot in advertising. He’s a licker.”
Tara leapt to her feet as a bolt of adrenalin shot through her like a gallon of Red Bull suddenly hitting her central nervous system. This was it, the moment she’d planned for but it was now the moment she was dreading. Clem was a licker? Please Lord, no.
“What’s his name?” Tara asked fearfully.
“Sissy Boy.”
“Sissy Boy?” Tara’s heart was beating way too fast and with a name like that it didn’t bode well.
“What’s his real name?”
/> “Hell if I know.”
“And what does Sissy Boy like to lick?” Tara asked, really not sure she wanted to hear the answer. Mistress Krystal’s expression changed to a devilish smile.
“You’ll find out soon enough, Mistress Angelina.”
All Tara cared about at that moment was whether Clem would recognize her. She’d deliberately purchased an outfit that hid her identity. Her Catwoman hood and mask concealed her eyes and most of her nose. The dim lighting would help too but her voice would be a dead giveaway. She would have to disguise it as much as possible or maybe she wouldn’t say anything.
“Well, it’s gone six. He’s late.”
“He’ll be here.”
Tara paced anxiously. “Okay, so what’s the script for this guy? I need to know ahead of time before you bring me in on some more weird stuff.”
Mistress Krystal smiled. “Relax. Don’t worry, it’ll be weird.”
“Exactly! That’s why I’m getting nervous. I don’t want to screw it up.”
“Screw what up? Look, hun. You don’t even know this person.”
Bzzzzzz!
Sissy Boy had arrived. Mistress Krystal took up her position in the playroom standing with legs astride waiting for him to enter.
“Stay in the kitchen,” she ordered Tara. “I’ll tell him you’ll be running today’s session.”
“What?”
“Relax and enjoy it,” Mistress Krystal smiled, oblivious to the internal meltdown Tara was now experiencing.
“But what do I do?” asked Tara, in a panicked whisper. “What’s the script?”
“It’s loose.”
“Loose? What does that mean?”
“Stay cool, hun. Whatever you want. He wants to be told what to do and he’ll take any punishment you want to give him. He really just wants to lick.”
That did nothing to reassure her as she paced even faster back and forth in the small kitchen and realizing for the first time just how much tight latex and leather made you sweat.
Bzzzzzz!
Mistress Krystal buzzed him in. Sissy Boy walked down the hallway and placed a bunch of money on the side table. He was smartly dressed in a well-fitted suit. Mistress K had a direct line of view into the hallway from her playroom and mentally counted the bills with him, not that anyone had ever chiseled her before. After all, if they did, it would be their last appointment.
“Good afternoon, Sissy Boy,” Mistress Krystal uttered in her usual patronizing tone. Sissy Boy said nothing. “You may enter the playroom. Take off that very nice suit and hang it up over there. I want you naked. Do it.”
She stood and watched Sissy Boy strip off. Tara could only hear from the secluded kitchen, she couldn’t see what was happening and was too freaked out to look. She hadn’t heard Clem’s voice respond yet and now she was about to be introduced to her naked husband. This was not going as she’d imagined. She didn’t think she’d feel this way but it was too late to back out now. He was sure to recognize her the minute she stepped into that room and he would simply die of embarrassment. So would she, dressed up in this ridiculous costume. What was she thinking?
“Today, we’re going to be doing things a little differently,” Tara heard Mistress Krystal say. Still Sissy Boy remained silent. “You’re going to meet a new mistress. Her name is Mistress Angel.” Mistress Krystal glanced over towards the kitchen and extended a beckoning arm. “Enter, Mistress Angel and meet Sissy Boy.”
Tara was frozen to the spot. She couldn’t do it. No, she wouldn’t obey her demand.
Mistress Krystal repeated her order, louder this time. “I said enter, Mistress Angel and meet Sissy Boy!”
It was useless to think of changing her plan now. Tara had no way to escape now. She took a very deep breath, pushed open the kitchen door and slowly walked into the playroom, her eyes downcast in the dim light.
Sissy Boy turned to see who would be taking over the session. His eyes widened when he saw the black leather and latex clad vision of sexuality walk across the floor towards him. Tara looked up slowly and to her utter astonishment she saw a naked man she’d never seen before.
Clem sat in his car and banged his head against the headrest. He clenched his jaw tight. Where had it all gone so wrong? Fitz had stitched him up good and proper and not only had he gotten away with it, he also had the boss’s blessing. What Clem couldn’t fathom was whether Frank Bergenson had turned on him or had Fitz finessed the old man so sweetly that he was letting Frank do his bidding?
Clem wondered how events could play out if he took the best of Chuck Svensen’s campaigns to Louisville and used it to try and un-sell the campaign Fitz had pitched. But it was double jeopardy. If Clem pitched to Rebakor and Molinaire didn’t buy it, then that’d weaken Clem even further. If Molinaire liked it, he would be the hero and it would oust Fitz. But this would have to be a strictly clandestine operation. No one should know he was going. Not even the creatives who’d worked on it. If Fitz could pull off that stunt then he certainly could too. There was still time. It was Friday and the meeting with Rebakor and Molinaire was still scheduled for Tuesday of next week. Clem did a U-turn and headed back towards downtown. He needed to get those campaigns Chuck Svensen’s guys had concepted before they got trashed.
Hurrying out of the elevator and back towards his office, Justine was still finishing up for the day. Clem went straight into his office.
“I need those layouts.”
“What layouts?” Justine followed him.
“The ones Chuck brought to the meeting two hours ago. I’m gonna fly down to Louisville and sell them to Molinaire. You can’t mention this to anyone, understand?”
“Clem. Can I have quick word?”
“Now where the fuck are they?” Clem rummaged through a pile of old layouts on his desk. Justine closed the door behind her.
“You can’t go to Louisville.”
“Oh, really? Just watch me. I’ve gotta find those damn ads.”
“Clem. You’re wasting your time.”
“What are you talking about?” Clem looked up.
“Rosanne told me Mr. Bergenson invited Fitz to meet the board next week. He’s got the job, Clem.”
It was like the blood had suddenly drained out of Clem’s face as he turned a whiter shade of pale. Justine certainly hadn’t planned on being the bearer of bad news especially as she cared so much about her boss but she had to stop him from making a fool of himself. Like Clem, she also knew the consequences of Fitz getting into power at the agency. There would be a cull and she would be the second casualty for sure after Clem when the axe fell.
Clem sat down and slumped forward holding his head in his hands. Justine’s eyes started to well up. She knew how conscientious he was and how hard he’d worked every day since she’d been his personal assistant.
“Sorry you had to hear it from me, Clem. Please don’t shoot the messenger,” Justine pleaded. He looked up at her with the expression of a beaten man.
“Thanks for telling me, Justine. Go home. Enjoy the weekend. It’s going to be pretty out.” Clem gave her a gentle hug. “And cancel my trip to Louisville next Tuesday. Waste of fucking time that’d be.”
Sissy Boy stared salaciously at Tara’s thigh high shiny black boots. Mistress Krystal slapped his face, not hard, but with enough force to get his attention. Tara said nothing; still surprised and very relieved that she wasn’t standing face to face with her husband.
Mistress Krystal winked at Tara.
“Sissy Boy will do whatever you tell him to do, won’t you Sissy Boy?” Mistress Krystal glared daggers at the naked man who finally broke his silence.
“Yes, Mistress. I will do whatever Mistress Angel desires.”
“Yes, you will.”
“Mistress Angel is very beautiful, Mistress.”
“Yes, she is. And she will be obeyed. Understand?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Mistress Angel, he’s all yours. Do with him what you will.”
Ta
ra nodded as Mistress K gave Tara a reassuring glance then left her alone in the playroom with Sissy Boy. “I will be watching everything,” she told them both.
Sissy Boy and Tara stared at each other for a few seconds but it seemed like an eternity. This man wasn’t like the others. He didn’t act submissive. Tara was terrified of this unknown naked male standing before her waiting to be told what to do. She hoped her hooded mask disguised any look of fear on her face.
“You’re very beautiful, Mistress Angel,” Sissy Boy said quietly.
“Don’t say a word,” Tara ordered. He was much younger than the judge and in far better shape than Mr. Winkle. He was handsome too, and he was talking out of turn. Tara didn’t like being spoken to. It was making her very uneasy. This Sissy Boy character had an air of mischief about him.
“Can I lick you, Mistress Angel? Can I? Please?”
“Shut up,” said Tara, more firmly this time.
“I want to lick you,” Sissy Boy insisted, giving her a smile which creeped her out. “Let me lick you, please.”
“And I told you to zip it, Sissy Boy.” Tara knew that if she so even glanced to wherever Mistress Krystal had gone, she would lose any control she might have in the room. “Shut up means shut up. Unless I ask you a question. Got it?”
“Yes, Mistress Angel.”
Tara didn’t have the first clue how she was going to start the session. She looked at the rack of equipment hanging on the wall but that only confused her more. She needed guidance but it was too late to ask teacher now. To looked back at her naked subject.
“What would you like me to do today, Sissy Boy?”
“Anything you want to, Mistress,” Sissy Boy replied quietly, not helping any. She took hold of a small flogger and turned and stood behind the naked man. She was surprised to see his back was heavily tattooed. It looked like demonic depiction of Hades with skulls and flames and naked torsos.
“What the…..? Stop!”
Sissy Boy grabbed her left ankle and frantically began licking her boots. She jumped backwards and out of his grasp then swung back her right leg and kicked Sissy Boy hard in the back, instinctively trying to protect her expensive footwear.
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