(To those who have not read my other stories, Cynthia, real name Sheila Schwarz has built a bondage and discipline studio. Charles, one of Cynthia's existing clients introduces Sean Richards as a possible client. During the introductory session Sean turned the tables, took the whip, and made an impression. Cynthia, or Sheila, sent a still photo of herself, bound and gagged, to Sean to see what would unfold. Unknown to her, a mutual friend, Francine Martel, had met Sean in a restaurant. In addition to renewing their friendship in the physical sense, Francine recommends Sheila to Sean as a good match. This story begins the next day.)
* * * * *
I sent the package out by courier yesterday afternoon. I had been working out all afternoon, just to keep from waiting by the phone. When it rang, it was a relief that it was from someone else. I had seen Francine maybe twice in 10 years, but practically fell over myself to make a date for coffee. Anything but more waiting.
An hour later over skim milk frapaccino I got the answer to the eternal question of "Why?" Francine knew Sean. Biblically it seemed. But they were friends. She wanted to know how I felt about him. Duhhhโฆ
"Sheila Dear, you are the most capable person I know well. Heaven knows you have more talent than I do, and I haven't done badly. If you want him, give him some line and let him play with it."
I couldn't help it. I started laughing. Then I told her exactly what kind of line I had given him and what he had done with it. For some reason, our little session did not shock her. Then I reached the end of the session.
"There I was, standing on both my very grateful feet, and he looks at me and says, "You were a dancer. A good one, but you overdeveloped.' It was like he looked right through me. You swear he's 30?"
"Same as me."
"I thought he was 10 years older. He has this stillness about him. Patience. Quiet."
"Control?"
"Yeah."
"I think I understand. All right Dear. Here is what you do. Meet him where he wants and follow his lead. This is all theatre. Give him a difficult role. Challenge him. Clarence is all about rising to a challenge."
"Clarence?"
"Yep. He hates it. Goes by his middle name. I'll tell you this much Dear. He really, really likes you. Truly."
That was two shocking revelations in 24 hours. Well maybe not as shocking as yesterday. I had gotten some clue that he liked me. I felt warm all over. I almost forgot to check the messages. Almost. He wanted to meet. Same time, same place. What in heaven's name was I going to do for a whole weekend?
By the time Monday arrived, my videos were completely catalogues, my window box had no weeds, my underwear drawer was rearranged, and I had a freezer full of half cooked lasagna. I may not be much good at working off nervous energy, but I tried. The big moment was a bit of a relief. What did Churchill say, "โฆnothing to fear but fear itself."? I had never understood that one before. I did now.
I strolled into the diner at exactly the same time. Sean was there with Charles, again. They were having soup and salad, again. It had to have been choreographed. Having Charles there was too perfect. He took one look at my face and froze. Sean must have brought him to get his ounce of flesh. I wanted one too.
"Charles. It's so nice to see you. I needed to properly thank you for introducing me to Sean. You have free session coming you know."
Charles was stricken. I think he wanted to gloat over something. No chance. Sean bailed him out.
"Do you like Prokofiev?" Do wolves like meat?
"Yes. Of course."
"Fine. I'll get tickets for tomorrow night. I have some business I want to discuss."
Charles' eyes were bulging. Maybe Sean had not bailed him out after all. Then I saw it. "Mother" was going out on a date. Charles is older than I am and he thought of me as his senior. Maybe I understood that a little. I looked at Sean and realized that Francine was telling the truth. I only expected someone older.
"You get the tickets and I'll get dinner."
Poor Charles. A boy among grownups. But that was why he paid me. I left him there; sitting with a wolf he had thought was a friend.
Tuesday was a blah day. To much tension. My clients were insufferable. I had to reign in my temper all day long. At 5:00 I changed into a black cocktail dress, a real Julia Roberts piece, and went to Ramone's. I was early so I went to the bar. I amused myself by shooting the fish. Metaphorically speaking. I shot down three in quick succession before the rest got the idea. It was therapeutic in a way. I would have to try iced drinks on the genitals at work. It certainly works in a bar using bourbon. When Sean came in, exactly on time, I was starting to loosen up. He went to the other end of the bar. Huh?
He came toward me with a drink.
"Why Sheila Schwartz, it's beenโฆhours since I saw you." Cheeky sort.
"Well Clarance Richards, it HAS been a while." That scored. This was fun. "I thought I would come over and get you drunk so I could have my way with you." Was that a Groucho leer?
"Why Mr Richards." I can act too. "All that trouble for little old me?"
"Why, tis no trouble at all my dear." Bad sheriff. Foghorn Leghorn maybe.
" I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." I love Bette Davis. That was Bette wasn't it?
"Watson, to the hunt." Oh yes.
The ham stopped at the door and bowed to the room. I broke up. I had not laughed that hard in years. It hurt. He kissed my hand.
"Its good to see you laugh. You were so serious last week." Well duh. I have to be serious. It comes with the job. Maybe why this was so fun. I broke up again.
"Oh Sean, you are the first person to MAKE me laugh in, good heavens, years."
"Mother thought I would turn out to be good for something. She had hoped it was Law or Medicine. Still this has its rewards." What a card. People probably think of him as serious too. Hell I did.
The dinner was a bit of a let down after that. Tedious. By the time we reached the concert, I had dropped into a funk. The giddiness of the bar had worn off, and I did not have a follow up. The music was helpful. By the time the intermission came around, I was feeling better. Suddenly I came to a decision. I had a problem with Mario, and Sean might help me with it. Our eyes met over wine. He looked intrigued. Cool.
The headline was Axe doing Prokofiev. I love Prokofiev, and this was my favorite piece. I always see Amy Irving playing it to beat Richard Dreyfus in the "Competition." Just one more audition. I could relate. I looked down and my hand was on his knee. That was all right too. He had not said anything. I liked that.
When the piece was over, I detached my hand. My fingers were aching. How hard had I gripped? He led us out.