K&T, LLC Ch. 02

Author's Note: I have resubmitted Ch. 07 as Ch. 01 of a new volume. Hopefully that works out. There are a couple of formatting changes. To help reduce confusion, the italicized sections are 25 years after the main text.

There is a bit more sex in this chapter. Enjoy.

Chapter 3 -- Meet the New Boss

Interlude: 25^th Anniversary

Cindy:

"As I said, no one talks about the preparations for the wedding. Mom and Dad talk about the 'The Merger.' Jason and CC talk about 'The Tour.' Everyone talks about the 'The Catalog' or 'The Sale.' It has always fascinated me that routine words can acquire capital letters and become a name. Only Aunt Jo talks about the wedding much, and she refers to it as 'The Event.'"

Sheila:

Christine and I snuggled and petted a lot that night, but nothing really serious. Even though we were both naked, the night before we had each had some serious and lengthy fucking. We both expected more soon. So, our petting was titillating, not torrid. When it came time for bed, I asked Christine if she wanted to curl up with me or to be tied up on the rug.

Christine looked at me with an odd expression. It took me a moment, but understanding eventually arrived. Christine thought I had banished Tess. I took her face in my hands and kissed her forehead. "Silly girl. Just because Tess will not be living here, does not mean she cannot visit. If it is a bad time, I will tell you." At that point we pulled out the laptops and had a discussion about what my coming marriage would mean. That night, I slept wrapped around Christine. It was nice and it was a shame we could not do more of it. In the morning, Christine woke me with a tongue rimming my anus. That's my girl.

We worked out together. Christine's flexibility was coming along. After we showered, I dropped her at church. I had an hour and a half before I needed to pick her up, so I decided to go out to the Residence. That was a problem. I only had Sean's cell number, and his phone was set to voicemail. Oh well.

I left this message: Hi. This is Sheila Schwartz. I do not have a number for you guys in security, so please call me. Have a nice day. In less than ten minutes, Gerald called me back. Oops.

"I'll make this easy on you, Gerald. In addition to letting you have someone show me around, I will be wanting to see Sean's house and grounds people. Having a recorder running will be handy. Do you think you can arrange that?"

Phone: Ma'am, I know you were never in the military, but you remind me of a Battalion Commander I used to work under. I will have you picked up in 15 minutes, if that is all right. I know a mixed compliment when I hear one.

"Thank you Gerald, but make it 10:30. I have a quick errand to run first. Christine went to church and I need to pick her up. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Phone: Yes, Ma'am. Thank you for asking. Please allow us to pick up your vehicle tonight. Mr. Richards has had a problem with competitors bugging his vehicles, for business reasons. We need to sweep the car and install some monitoring equipment. Think of it as Onstar. Mr. Richards told me to sell it as a tune up and lube."

"Thank you, Gerald. Your candor means a great deal to me. I will let Jason know that you will be coming by for the keys. You and I can pretend they are necessary. I will drop off keys to the apartment when I arrive at the Residence. I trust your men have security company credentials, so I will tell the Super that you are installing a burglar alarm. Is tomorrow soon enough and does that cover everything currently on the menu?"

Phone: Ma'am, I believe I have already told you how much I enjoy working with a professional. One of these days, please let me know how you acquired so many skills.

"Tsk, tsk. Gerald, if you think about what I do, with whom and for how long, you will not need to ask. I may be self taught, but I ain't stupid."

Phone: That is for damn sure, Ma'am. I will see you shortly.

That conversation lifted my mood considerably. Gerald was going to be a big part of my planning. Boring is a good thing in his world, but it gets old. I was anything but boring, so it behooved me to make things as smooth as possible. Besides, I liked him.

As promised, I left word that a security company was expected on Monday. It happened that the owner was on site, so I tracked her down, to give her a heads up on my nuptials. I did not know Rosa Danvers, so I was surprised at her jubilant reaction. I asked for a mailing address, so I could send yet another invitation.

As Han Solo said, "I have a bad feeling..."

Sean:

Everyone headed out. That left me exactly where I had been two weeks before, alone. Only this time I was at loose ends. The big project was as complete as I could get it and the small project was still in the planning stages. I took the Mercedes and drove to Union. Francine Martel was doing her last show of the stop. I hoped to catch her before she left for a wrap party.

I arrived about 10:10 PM. As I hoped, there were a few people exiting, but not the main press. I slipped in a newly vacated parking stall and ran up to the building. A few minutes and $20 found me someone to take a message backstage. Several minutes later I was surprised to see Francine coming. I had expected a message in answer to my note, not the diva herself.

Francine had an explanation, but it was lost in background. We went with the flow. Once we reached my car, I looked at fast food signs in the distance. I asked her if Waffle House was good enough, which it was. Once we we settled, with cups of coffee in front of us and about 5000 calories on order, I asked what Sheila had told her. That earned me a harsh glare, followed by something more calculating.

When she spoke, Francine was as subtle as always, i.e. not very. "So, Richards, what are you doing here? I would think you and Schwartz would be practicing for the honeymoon."

"I would have been willing, but she had unfinished business with CC, whom she is now calling Christine. She promised me a return engagement tomorrow, pardon the pun."

"I'll bet she did. What happened? Did she wear you out?"

Francine was a motor mouth from as far back as I knew her. And raunchy. For example:

"Schwartz said something about a dress and a corset. I asked if you are flying, because Sheila seriously needs to be in the mile high club. Take her in the lavatory and do her against the wall. The position is called the Ballerina, but it's just Splitting Bamboo standing up. You get maximum penetration, which you need. Sean, this is important. Listen to me. Sheila gets off on A zone stimulation. That's back by the cervix. I've seen what you have. It will work, but it's clear at the end of your reach, if you follow me. Go for positions that let you get really deep, like Splitting Bamboo, like Venus Oyster, like Reverse Cowgirl. I wonder is Schwartz has been reading, or just got lucky, excuse the pun."

Eventually, the conversation worked to a point where I could show the soon to be famous picture. Francine glanced at it. Then she did a double take. Finally, she picked it up and scanned it closely.

"Fucking A. This is what tore Sheila up last week, isn't it? She did this, knowing what she was doing, and freaked afterward. Damn, Ricky, it just sucks you in. Is everyone saying this is as good as I think it is? Holy fuck." Sheila had mentioned the sewer mouth, but I had not remembered her that way. Hmm.

Francine finally shook her head and looked up. She glanced at me, then at the picture, then back at me. This was another thing that Sheila had mentioned. Francine got quiet when she was thinking, and she was very good at thinking. The silence stretched as her thoughts went somewhere. I mimed coffee to the waitress, but otherwise bided my time.

When the waitress came over with the coffee, Francine rejoined the world. I suspected caffeine would do the trick. Without glancing at the waitress, she pushed her cup for a refill. Instead of watching what she was doing, Francine watched me. Once we were alone, she continued.

"Schwartz is busy. You're not. You're here. She doesn't know. You aren't here for anything physical, so you have to want something. Schwartz would not approve. You have a death wish. It's is the only possible explanation."

I laughed and told her the truth, as I saw it. I had come on an impulse. I wanted to get a feel for Francine's resources and an opportunity presented itself. Sheila had a lot on her plate. I explained to Francine that Sheila had worked three jobs since forever: the regular fitness clients at the gym; the other business in the back; and the one you might miss, landlord for the building and GM for the franchise. Sheila had always done it alone, so that was what she knew.

I continued, "Now, she wants to get married and have a baby right away. There are not enough hours in a day to do everything and take care of herself, so..." Francine had started nodding, then cut me off.

"Gotcha. You want to do a low key intervention. As I recall, you have some family money. Can you just pick her up and carry her, if necessary?" I nodded. "Good. Forget money then. You want a way to throw people at her problem, which explains that submissive you gave her. I am totally jealous, by the way. People only give me stuff like jewelry. You have a plan." This was like talking to Sheila. No wonder they got along. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, or get them to join you. So I pitched my half baked idea.

I covered the building, the gym, the neighborhood and my half formed investment group. Francine began giving me an odd look. I reached the point where money came into the picture, and I was suddenly unsure of my footing.

I said, "I suspect we will form a partnership in the next couple of days. If you want to help, and have the money, the easiest way would be to buy in. What?" Francine was laughing so hard she was literally holding her sides.

"Oh my god, Rickey, if you only knew. First, it was funny you started making a pitch. I get pitched about a hundred times a week. Then you hesitated, not because I might not be interested, but because I might not have the money. Start looking for JB Productions on movie trailers. I do not dance because I need the money. I dance because it's who I am. Trust me, Schwartz would understand. And she's right. You are protective as hell. You got a pen. Send a number and a date to this address. I'll get you a check. Invest in Schwartz? Are you kidding? Have you seen what she...OK, you probably do understand."

Francine finally stopped talking and looked at me again. Then, she cocked her head to one side and looked surprised. It did not last.

"Damn. I get it. Who'd'a thought? I checked you out, you know. You have a reputation, but you really are what Sheila says, a teddy bear. God, she's good. This all happened the first day, didn't it? She took one look at you and handed you the keys. That was, what, ten days ago? Did she let you propose? She didn't did she. Oh my god. She stepped on your lines. I swear you are made for each other. And she is such a pussy cat under all the make up."

"Kitten." Did I say that out loud? I must have, because she picked up on it.

"Kitten, yeah. That works, too. Kitten and Teddy. You should name the company that. It will drive people nuts. They'll never figure it out. So, what's the plan?" That got me. What did we need to do next? Start with what you know.

We talked about what I knew of Sheila's plans, including the corset fitting on Tuesday. I had a sudden shiver when I realized that Sheila, Francine and my sister Jo would be getting together to do girl stuff. Ye gods, that was a dangerous group. I had a sinking suspicion that my egghead sister would fit right in. I tried to change the subject,

"Francine, did you say you were in productions?"

"Yes." She was giving me an evil eye.

"Does that mean you have access to costume and set construction people?" That did it. I could see Francine take the bit and run with it.

"Fuck yes. I will have someone down there Monday. You have details on the dress?"

"Drawings and swatches. I can tell you it is an Irish Green plain dress, with white lace over, fitted for a corset. I told them she had to be able to dance in it. Text Helen at this address." I scribbled it on the back of my card. "Also, I own an events company, with catering. Helen can also put you in touch with them. Just remember one thing. I do not want to lose people because they got between you and Sheila. Kitten has creative control. She earned it."

"This is going to be fun." Francine was already miles away. I had to pull her back.

"Yo, Francine. I like you. I love her. Don't make me choose sides. And do not interfere with the other stuff she has to sort out. If it comes to that, shit rolls downhill. Just take some of the load off." Francine did the last thing I expected. She came across the table and kissed me on the cheek.

Dear God, what had I started?

Sheila:

Sean had left several texts. Francine was definitely coming to the fitting with Julian. My stars, that was going to be interesting. She was also going to be able to help with costuming and set design. That had to be Francine's choice of words. I text Francine and asked for details. Then I text Jo and told her to expect a diva at the fitting. She text back: ??????? Since she was available, I called direct.

Phone: Hello. Is this Sheila? She was definitely Sean's sister. He called her the family egghead.

"Yes it is. I wanted to cover the plans for Tuesday. Another of my witnesses will be joining us, Francine Martel. You may have heard of her."

Phone: Oh my god. Sean said you liked to drop bombs, but I had no idea. I love theater and I have seen her many times. She's one of the wedding party. Wow. I am guessing this is not something to spread around, but there had better be pictures.

"You are quite correct that discretion is appropriate. As to the pictures, maybe not Tuesday, but rest assured, we have a camera bug on tap. Justin is really obnoxious with his Nikon."

Phone: Justin, as in Justin Immons? I have heard some rumors about him here at the school. One of the big universities is doing an ebook of ritual and fetish items. Sean as much as said that they were from his auction. Well, not really. You have to be able to read big brother. Justin Immons was the name.

"I will confirm, without comment. How involved do you wish to be in this, uh, endeavor? I understand you have considerable background in the social sciences. I want to do a period theme, hence the corsets. Interested?"

Phone: You cannot be serious. No. My God. Do you realize you are asking an Ivy League anthropologist if she wants to be involved with the re-creation of a period social event? In my, literally, own back yard? I would do this if the wedding was in Sri Lanka, in summer. How many grad students should I bring? The family egghead sounded remarkably like Francine, without the vulgarity.

"What do you mean, grad students?"

Phone: Think of them as slave labor. I can think of three girls, off the top of my head, that could use this for their thesis research. I know half a dozen more that would do it for the fun. You do understand this is what some of us live for, right? I admit, it took a moment, but then I got it. They would be able to play dress up with real people. This was the Shakespeare in the Park crowd. There was one way to gauge the interest.

"Just so they understand that I am a dominatrix in my day job." Silence. Then:

Phone: I can see why Sean likes you. You cut through the crap. He does too, but you knew that already. Ummm. Personal question, and you don't have to answer, what do you call him? Jo was no slouch at cutting crap herself.

"Teddy Bear."

Phone: You have known him, what, less than two weeks, and you call him Teddy Bear? Did you ever have him tied up? Whipped? I flashed to that first day. That final lash, because "I wish it."

"Reverse it."

Phone: Short answers for important content. Good to know. I'm a lesbian, I'd marry you myself if you weren't engaged. I am insanely jealous. OK. Maybe not insane. Sean deserves something nice. Have him reserve six rooms wherever. I will double them up and tell them to use birth control. I am going to like having you as a sister. I assume you want early 20^th. Europe or US? I could see why Sean liked his sister.

"US. Pool table green and white. Top hat and tails. Gloves. You claim you want to marry me and you have not even met Francine yet. Tsk, tsk. I will tie them up and whip them, with photographs, signed in red lipstick, as full compensation for their time. You drive a hard bargain. I already have one submissive. $1000 says she can take more abuse than any of them. Tuesday, 9:00 AM at the Residence. Be there." Click.

That was fun. I was going to like Siobhan. Forget this "Jo" shit. All you had to do was pronounce it correctly. Common courtesy is, unfortunately, not common.

For a change of pace, I went to the Residence, to meet with the staff. I won a bet with myself, when the man opening my door introduced himself as Gerald. He was 6'4" and dishy, in a George Clooney-with-scars sort of way. This was a happy event, since I was able to dump the news of the expected arrival of a dozen Ivy League grad students. To really ruin his day, I told him of the appointment at 9:00 AM Tuesday. This did not have the expected result, which awakened the Yiddish matchmaker in me.

However, I had other priorities. Gerald handed me a wallet sized card, full of contact information. Then he introduced me to the brothers Gilbert. They led my off for a tour of the grounds, which was both interesting and alarming. They led me down to the gazebo, the boat house and the lake shore. This was clearly the easy part. Anyone could see that the Gazebo needed only a coat of paint. The side of the boathouse near the gazebo was pretty much the same. The waterfront looked untouched. Alarm bells were going off.

Standing at the waterfront, I looked up to the house. The most obvious architectural feature was a row of french doors facing the lake. Two sets opened to a flat area near the house. The third onto a banistered terrace. I had a vision of formally clad attendees, sitting at tables, looking out over a moon lit lake. That meant food and alcohol, plus entertainment inside. Unless I missed my guess, at least two of those french doors went to the ballroom.

Without a word, I started up the slope to the house. Getting enough seating on that slope was going to be no picnic, but the project was straightforward. The reception would be another issue. The bulk of the activity would be near the house, which is exactly where the brothers were steering clear. A telltale slump of the shoulders confirmed my worst fears. That area was not fit for public viewing. I simply went to the french doors and waited. To give him credit, Mitchell Gilbert did not mistake my meaning.

The ballroom was large, but not huge. Any school had a bigger floor for basketball. However, it would do for its intended function: formal dance. Looking by the door, I saw the first issue. There were no switches. Mitchell Gilbert quickly confirmed that the room was not lighted to modern code. The room had been converted from gas to electric—in 1923, and never updated. The fireplaces were functional, but there was no cooling, not even ceiling fans. Further, the entire room had only four outlets, which would likely not pass code.