48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 07: Julie

Now, of course, I'm embarrassed to have embarrassed my teacher. Anne has always been helpful. When she'd used her crop, it was only to point out something to me, never to issue a hurt, a "correction." I whisper a Thank You and Anne responds with a smile and a pat on my head. I'm learning that the relationship between a slave and a Master or teacher is a fragile and complex one. When Anne comes back, I'll be ready and willing to talk and learn from her.

The Meal Service was not really similar to commercial airlines. The rolling carts were the same, but the dishes were real china, the cutlery was sterling, and the food was even better than on the yacht. When Sharon asked me for my choice, I looked at the menu in her hand — the same menu she had shown to others — and went for the broiled steak, medium rare, with baked potato. I don't know how she did it, but that's exactly what was on my tray, along with a true steak knife. There was even tea to finish it off! I thought about this for just a moment, and then remembered Anne's description of living two roles: in this role, I am the high-society asset of a wealthy and powerful man. I have no trouble thinking I can get used to this life!

On Anne's return, I beg forgiveness for my outburst. She waves it off. "Julie, I should have been a bit more understanding. I've been there myself. I suppose the lesson here is that you have to be tuned to moving from one role to the other, often with just a heartbeat."

As usual, Anne is right. And, she's right about everything being a lesson. This one I'd try to keep in mind: I will have to be ready to switch between slave and high-society at any time. I launch into my report, trying to recall every move I made and Master's response. Anne seems surprised by Master's response to my blowing a breath across his cock's head. We figure that, possibly because of a cooling effect on the wet glans, Master was more sensitive. Anne advises me to keep that in mind for next time. Surprise on my face makes her laugh.

"Julie, there is always going to be a next time. Now, you've got to keep a tally of what does what to whom. This is important, because you have to know what you did last time. You can't do the same routine every time, even if someone asks for it. That way lies boredom, the worst thing for a pleasure slave."

This pleasure thing is just as complicated as the slavery thing.

My report finishes with my pushing the green button. Anne's face lights up. "Julie, you don't know what that means, but it's a very good sign. The green button goes to the stewardess station, telling them Master doesn't want to be disturbed for 30 minutes because he's just had a great excitement and needs a nap, but then to come in with champagne for him and ginger ale for his slave. When Master said 'you'll do,' this is high praise. What did you do then?"

I think for a moment and tell Anne, "Master and I went to sleep." Anne's eyes open wide. "You didn't clean him off? Julie! A slave never leaves cum or fluids on a Master or Mistress. You always use your tongue to lap up any spills or fluids. The last thing a Master or Mistress wants is dried crusts of cum on themselves."

I get the point that this is a big deal. I know I've "inked my blotter," as they say, and that a correction will be inevitable. I've absorbed enough slave lore to know that excuses are irrelevant and I resolve to wait for the crop or the whip or whatever with whatever equanimity I can muster. Igor has said that corrections are not determined in the heat of the crime, so I don't even ask what it will be. When I have to know, someone will tell me. That's how slavery is.

Another thing about slavery is that there's always another service to perform. Sharon collects me and gives me the two-minute drill on serving coffee, tea, juice, or soda from the rolling cart. Master is convening a staff meeting in the forward conference area, meaning about fifty folks need to be watered, as Sharon says. She gives me a frilly apron to cover the Calvin Klein and we go to work. Because we do one person at a time, we get all the orders right and we don't spill a drop of anything. I catch Igor's eye and his smile nearly unnerves me. Master watches my every step and I get the feeling my credits and debits numbers are going in a positive way.

When everyone is served and Sharon is ready to roll the cart away, Master says, "Everybody, take just a minute to welcome our new member, Julie, to our family. I'm sure you'll all help her get familiar with any project she needs information on."

There is a smattering of applause, and I blush. Sharon's face is grinning ear-to-ear as she rolls the cart back to her station. Master points to a folded blanket at his side and I realize that's my place. I kneel and feel that surge of pride again. I have a place; I have a family; I have a Master!

The meeting is fast-paced. Master names a project and someone rattles off how it's doing. Mostly, each report is delivered with what seems to me to be pride and satisfaction. There are one or two that I sense, with absolutely no basis, are fictions, made up to get the speaker off the agenda. Nobody says a word, however, so I just file it away. As Anne says, every piece of information is likely to be worth something to someone sometime.

Master sums up the meeting. "OK, folks, we've done it again. A full-list review in less than an hour. If everything keeps going like this, we'll have to get more videos for the entertainment center." I see that smile again, the one I'm coming to like.

The staff disperses and Sharon returns with the cart. Master thanks us for the service and adds, "Julie, after cleanup, come back to my quarters."

I'm wondering if Master is going to want another service. Trying to act calm, I sound out Sharon. "Should you be expecting another green button signal?" She bursts out laughing.

"No, Julie. You'll get to know Master better than that. Once he has notes about his projects, he works on them to set up the next question or the next step for each project. He'll have one-on-one meetings with the staff for the rest of the trip. By the time we land, the staff will have To Do lists a yard long. My advice is to stop for a pee and get to his suite as fast as you can."

I leave the frilly apron, stop at the lavatory, and knock on Master's door within two minutes. Anne opens the door, waves me in, and I see a grin on her face as she leaves. I'm OK with that; I know somebody will tell me when it's time for me to know.

An armchair has been added to the décor and Master is sitting in it. A kneeling pad is one meter in front of him, so I head for it, smile at Master, and kneel. Master smiles.

"What did you think about the Project Meeting we just had?"

Me? I have no idea about the meeting! I didn't have the foggiest notion of what any project was. What can I say?

Master waits, patiently, but I know that he's expecting an answer. Another deep breath? "Please, Master, I don't know any of these projects. How can I answer?"

Master's smile widens! "Exactly so. You fashioned a good answer, short and diplomatic, but asking for more guidance. That's the kind of response you will often need when you're at someone else's Project Meeting. Our projects are planned to benefit society and the natural world. It's execution that matters. Through the collaborative effort, we want to accelerate the process by which an idea can become reality.

"Now, the first thing about any project is its Manager, the guy or gal who reports on it. What did you think of this crew?"

OK, that I can answer. "Please, Master, I thought most of them were honest, sincere, prepared."

He's picked up on my "most." "OK, who did you think was not honest, sincere, prepared?"

Master is asking me to skewer someone whose name I don't know? "Please, Master, I don't even know the names of anybody in the meeting. How can I judge?"

Master doesn't let me off the hook. "Names are not important. Tell me a size, a hair color, a tone of voice. Your initial assessments, your gut feelings, these are the things that you are going to have to assess for me. Don't worry about maligning anyone. I don't shoot people on just gut feelings, at least, not often. OK? Let's have your report."

I mention the fat woman and the sandy-haired man who seemed to be making up their reports. Master shuffles a few papers and studies his notes. His face is not smiling. My stomach clenches in fear. He reaches into a pocket for a cellphone, punches a few numbers and says, "Hi. I wanted to follow up on your report, maybe make some plans. Will you please come back to my suite?" The other party replies, Master says Thank you and ends the call. He turns to me and says, "OK, I've invited one of the other staffers to be first. Let's rearrange the suite."

In a moment, Master is at the desk and I am at the door, waiting for a knock. It comes, I welcome the staffer, direct him to the armchair, and take my place, kneeling alongside the desk.

The conversation is pleasant. Master asks if some offer should be sweetened, the staffer says he doesn't think it will be needed, Master nods and thanks the staffer for his advice. He asks him to send in another staffer. I rise to see the staffer out and he smiles at me.

In a moment, the next staffer knocks. It is the fat woman. I welcome her, direct her to the armchair and resume my place.

Again, the conversation is pleasant. The fat woman has a compliment for me. Something about that sets me off. Are slaves worthy of comment by staffers to Master? Master is gracious in his thanks and asks a question. Fat woman temporizes and then starts speaking rapidly. I'm not a trained observer, but it seems obvious to me that she's making it up as she goes along. Master nods thoughtfully and asks about her staff: is it large enough, are they trained enough, who does she see as insightful and competent, who is just a burden on the team? Fat woman seems as definite about these questions as she was vague about the project questions. Master makes notes and ends the conversation with kind words for her husband, who seems to be seriously ill and not thought likely to survive. I can see the lady's tears as she thanks Master for his concern and the care he has arranged for her husband.

The next staffer is the sandy-haired man. He breezes in, nods to me, and ensconces himself in the armchair. Has he been here before?

Again, the conversation is pleasant. Master asks for his opinion on some facet of the project and the man gives it a good rating. There are the questions about his staff and resources assigned to the project. Master thanks him and asks for the next staffer.

This process goes on for another three or four staffers, with Master being pleasant, asking just a question or two for an opinion or two, and a word about staffing and resources. When the last staffer leaves, Master turns to me and asks for a report.

OK, I'd have to be a moron not to know this was coming, right? Well, I'm not a moron. I'm loaded with observations about each of the staffers.

I go down the list as they appeared. I have a good opinion of the first staffer and think he's probably got good reason to think the offer doesn't need sweetening. For the fat woman, I ask, "Master, did this lady take over the project when her husband got sick?"

Master grins. "Exactly so. She had been part of the team for so long it seemed reasonable to let her take it over. However, I think we've seen that it's just a bit more than she can handle, especially with her family in such trouble."

I jump in. "That's why you asked about her staff. Who looks ready to take on more responsibility? She was a lot more comfortable and definite about this stuff."

Master smiles again. "In the next week or so, depending on what happens with her husband, we'll see about getting her a furlough and re-assigning some of the staff. One or two, I'm sure, will do a good job for us."

My take on the sandy-haired man is more nebulous. "My instinct is not to believe or trust him. I think he may have low-balled some of his better staff to keep his competition at bay."

I see Master's smile. Again, the thought surfaces that he has a nice smile. "I'm beginning to think you're right about him. He came to our group along with the project just a few months ago. He hasn't done anything wrong, but he also hasn't done much to move the project forward. We'll need more data and analysis, I think. In the interim, he's asked for a large company loan so he can buy a house in Hong Kong. Do you think we should make the loan?"

Now, we're getting more to my kind of business! "If this staffer is going to hold his job, then it's perfectly OK for the company to help him with a residential mortgage from a bank or even a friendly bank. If he's not going to be with you, Master, then the fewer ties you have to him, the better. At this time, I'd caution some delaying tactics within the administration. Bureaucrats are always good targets and everybody understands that large transactions take time, need to go up multiple layers for review, and so forth."

Master looks thoughtful. "I don't like the idea of using bureaucracy to stall a decision. On the other hand, I don't have enough information to make a decision now. So, temporizing is the best we can do. I'll get more information in the next week and we'll go then."

Decision made, Master's smile, at least a little of it, comes back.

Master stands, so I stand. He smiles, pats me on the head — this is getting to be a nice routine, I think — and says it's time for sleep. "Tell Anne to set you up with one of the bunks and a nightie. Sharon will freshen the dress for tomorrow. Get a good night's sleep."

I report to Sharon and Anne. Anne grins and says it'll take about a half-hour to arrange the bunk. Sharon giggles and says she'll come for the dress when I'm in the bunk. In the interim, I'm free to walk the aisles. I decide to start at the front of the plane.

I find the sandy-haired man at a small bar just inside the main door. He's nursing what looks like a glass of Scotch coddling a large ice cube. I give a smile and he waves to me. "Julie, isn't it? Good to meet you. Stay a moment, if you can?"

My brain does the calculations. It isn't an order. I have nothing more important to do, at least for a half-hour. I'd like to pick up more information about this man. OK, I'll stay. I smile again. He looks around, possibly for an attendant? I put him at his ease, saying, "Please, Sir, I don't need anything now."

I seize an opportunity. "Was this your first full-scale Project Meeting?"

His grin is rueful. "Did it show? I've just joined this group in the past few months. The project was going along slowly before they took over, but we thought it was OK. Now, I've lost the bosses I had, I haven't got any new bosses, and the home office keeps asking for Progress Reports. A week ago, I get this e-mail about this trip. I fly halfway around the world to get to this flight, and now I'm flying halfway around the world to get to Hong Kong, all for a ten-minute visit with the Chairman. It's just not the way I'm used to doing business."

He stops abruptly, probably startled by the list of admissions against himself he'd just made to a person he didn't know but who seemed to be at the side of the Chairman (that would be Master). I try to keep him on this line. "When you were talking about your staff and resources, why didn't you mention any of this? It sounds like it's your front-and-center problem, right?"

He looks a bit upset, I think. In a moment, he recovers and continues. "Well, most Chairmen I know are so many levels removed from the actual project that they wouldn't be aware of any of this and probably would be irked to get mixed up in it. And then, there's the old saying, Never Let Them See You Sweat. No, this is something I'll have to figure out on my own."

I take a moment to let him digest and then give him the zinger. "About how much time do you think that might take?"

He swivels around and looks more directly at me. I return his stare for just a moment, then look down. "I mean, it seems like you said the home office was always after Progress Reports, so I guessed that they had some time line they were measuring the project against." I trail off, letting him have time to give a response. I learned long ago that, when I stay silent, the other party often fills in the silence with lots of stuff.

He does. "I think it'll take about four months to get the team up to the speed the Chairman seems to want. I don't think that's a good idea, myself, because they aren't used to working at that speed. There's liable to be too many goofs and errors at the speed they're expecting. And, for Pete's sake, what's the reason for the big rush?"

I throw him a bone. "Now, that's a good question. Does this project have to meet with another project?"

He shakes his head No.

"Do we need either the resources or the personnel on this project to start another project soon?"

Again, a headshake No.

We are both silent for a few minutes. Then, I bring up a point from earlier. "You know, you said something earlier about not having any bosses. That can't be completely true, can it? I mean, we all have bosses, up to the Chairman, right? If there's nobody named between you and him, then he gets to be your boss, right? OK, so, if you think of him as a boss rather than a Chairman, can't you just go ask him all these questions? I mean, don't you need answers to do your job?"

The explosion, when it comes, almost makes me giggle. "Sonofabitch!"

He blushes a bit. "Sorry, Ma'am, that sort of slipped out. My apologies."

I assume my gentlewomanly airs. "Think nothing of it. I can't say I haven't heard worse."

Together, we share a laugh. But, I can see he's got his brain cells up and working. I excuse myself and start hunting for Anne. Is this something to report to Master immediately, or will the morning be OK? I find her in the very last section with her arms full of pillow. I give her the two-minute version and she shoves the pillows into a compartment and drags me to Master's door. A sharp knock is followed by a Come In and we enter.

"Master, Julie has been interrogating the staffer you had in third and has some new information."

Anne retires, quietly shutting the door. I am left with Master, who is dressed in silk pyjamas and looks ready for bed. I wonder if he's perturbed about the interruption but, after all, it was Anne's call, right? I give him the points I discussed with the sandy-haired man. About midway through, he marches to his desk, shuffles papers until he finds the one he wants, and starts making notes. By the end of my report, Master has a sly smile on his face.

Master turns and asks, "What happened to the bunk?"

I think back. "Please, Master, Anne was putting out pillows when I came to her with this information. The bunk is probably about ready as we speak."

"OK, Julie. First, thank you for talking to this guy. As I said, he isn't one of our guys, so it's no wonder he feels like he's on the outside and the window he's looking in is frosted. When our organization took over the project, the old organization took their bosses and let the project go. He was the only one of management level that stayed. Since he was pretty far down the chain of seniority, it's no wonder he doesn't have any idea about how the project fits in with our Project List.

"How about this idea: I have one of the office go-fors bring him a copy of our original Project Assessment, the one we made before we traded for this project. It will explain a lot of background that he seems to be missing. It will also tell him why we need this done by the time we specified in the contract. I'll add a cover note saying that I noticed his name wasn't on the Distribution List because the document is before he came on board with us. If he's smart enough to read it, it should answer all of his questions. What do you think?"