CHAPTER 84: The Virgin’s Summer, Part 24
The following day, tidily dressed in a crisply pressed white blouse, knee-length black shirt and inch heeled court shoes, I alternate between excitement and nerves. My Master drives me to the office. “Good luck,” he says, giving me a peck on the cheek, and squeezing my hand.
Checking in the bathroom that my long hair, rebellious at the best of times, has not escaped the multitude of pins keeping it firmly under control, I present myself at reception.
“I have an appointment with Mr Haswell. I’m...”
I stall...
What am I called?
“Ah yes, Charlotte Conners isn’t it? Mr Haswell said to send you right in.” The receptionist waves me towards the door.
I tap.
“Come in.”
Richard Haswell is sitting on a low seat overlooking a vast cityscape. Wall to wall windows give a bird’s eye view of most of the City, drawing the eye over the river and beyond, to where I know his city renovation project is ongoing.
He stands, smiling, holding out his hand to shake. “Good afternoon, Charlotte. Nice to meet you properly at last. Do take a seat.”
I arrange myself demurely on the seat, crossing my legs at the ankles, hands clasped on my lap.
“Coffee?”
“Thank you. Yes, white.”
As he pours, he continues, “James is enthusiastic in his praise of you. He tells me you have not had a good start in life, but nonetheless, are highly motivated and achieving very good academic grades.”
“I’m pleased with them, yes.”
He flips open a folder. “Straight As, except for a B in fluid dynamics? Pretty good.”
I nod.
“So, tell me about yourself. You are seeking training in our Student Engineer Program? Forgive me, but you don’t look like classic ‘engineer’ material.”
“I was doing physics, but I was already having second thoughts about it...”
“What second thoughts?”
“Not the course itself. I loved that. More about where it was taking me, what I want to do later. Then, when I was out in your reception a few weeks ago...” For a moment, my throat tightens at the memory of that day. I fight it down and continue. “... I saw your cityscape model, your plans for that area, and suddenly, I knew what I wanted to do. I want to be part of that, rebuilding that part of town, turning it into something beautiful...”
I dry up. “Um, sorry if that sounds a bit silly…”
Haswell doesn’t exactly smile, but I think he is pleased. “No. No, it doesn’t sound silly at all. I understand exactly what you are talking about. That is, at least in part, the reason I am doing the work. The other part is, of course, that it is making me a great deal of money... What do you know about my company, Charlotte?”
We talk for some time. I can’t decide if I am making the right impression or not.
Finally, he says, “Charlotte, here are my cards on the table. Frankly, I’m not sure what to make of you, but the fact that you come with such glowing support from James, whom I regard highly, does carry weight. If it suits you, I’m going to give you a trial week, perhaps two weeks, with us. Think of it as a very long interview. During that week, you can sit in on meetings, visit our sites, see how we work... Meanwhile, we can get to know you, and decide if we would be a good fit for each other. How does that sound?”
“It sounds great. Um, when would you like me to start?”
“No time like the present. How about tomorrow?”
“I’ll be here, Sir.”
We are celebrating, the three of us.
We enter the Club. I am on Michael’s left arm, my Master’s right. We circulate; chatting, sipping drinks, enjoying the atmosphere.
Wearing my beautiful black, halter-neck dress, I know that I look good and, safely between my two Lovers, enjoy drawing the eyes of the men around us, and sometimes the women. With my tall, dark, saturnine Master, and my golden-haired, blue-eyed Lover, we make a handsome trio, and I am becoming blasé about other guests angling for invites into our group.
No invites are forthcoming.
“Tonight,” says my Master, “we are doing things a little differently.”
“In what way, Master?”
“This time, Michael is taking the lead. He will be your Master for the evening.”
I turn to Michael. “I thought you didn’t like… you know… doing things to me?”
Michael says nothing, simply looking down at me, smiling. I wonder what is in the bag he carries.
My Master leans in close to me. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat, Charlotte.” He nods to Michael. “Be with you in a minute.” And he walks off across the room.
I’m a bit startled by this, but Michael gives me a gentle tug on the arm. “Come on, he’ll be back soon.”
In the dungeon room, Michael places me centrally, under an overhanging brass ring. He cuffs my wrists: wide leather restraints that fit snugly, containing my arms almost to the elbow.
As he clicks the cuffs closed, he leans in, kissing me softly. “I’ve been looking forward to this. It gave me a few ideas, playing with you by the pool the other day...”
“What are we doing tonight?”
He smiles again. “Spoilers,” he whispers.
Simply having Michael speak to me like this, already, is loosening me inside, warming me, and in the close air of the Club, I am beginning to perspire.
My Master arrives, carrying a tray: a bottle of wine, chilling in a bucket, with glasses, and a cup, steaming slightly. He sips from it, then offers me some.
“Coffee?”
“Mmm, no thanks.”
“Wine?”
“No, thanks. I’ve had enough to drink.”
He pours a glass of wine, passing it to Michael. Michael seems to enjoy it, taking a large mouthful, swishing it around his mouth, then taking another mouthful.
The two seem in no hurry. My Master fishes candles from Michael’s bag, placing them around the room, lighting them, to cast a golden glow over the room. Then, turning off the main lights, he leans back against the padded horse, sipping his coffee. Michael loops a rope through the brass ring, and then around my cuffs.
“Time to play Charlotte.”