K&T, LLC Ch. 01

Author's Note: After some consideration, I will am retitling this story. It is still part of the Sean and Sheila saga, but a new volume. Volume one ended with their first night together. As before, sex is secondary, so look elsewhere if you want a stroke Story. Try Kitty & Teddy, LLC Ch. 06A, which will also make the first chapter easier to follow.

There is little sex in these chapters. Sorry.

Chapter 1 -- Changes

Interlude: 25^th Anniversary

Cindy:

"Everyone knows about the wedding. Some of it is Justin's incredible photography. The shot of the houseboat against the moonlight won major awards. Odd that he gave Mom a lot of the credit. His candid shots of the bridesmaids are hysterical. Justin somehow managed a shot of my Aunt Jo hanging Aunt Fran out of a window. That room is on the third floor and the whole level was ladies only. Aunt Jo would call it the mare moiety. They did get the makeup fixed in time for the ceremony.

"Mom looked incredible. She made the cover of a bridal magazine, which embarrasses her no end. The whole, now famous, Victorian motif was hers, though Dad claims the equally famous dress. Somehow, they managed to set it up in one week, yet made it the event of the season. The week must have been frantic, though no one ever talks about it.

Sheila:

I was learning to love waking up after an evening with Sean. I was invariably sore, well rested and contented. That did not mean that something significant had not happened. Getting engaged rated as significant in my book. Looking over at Sean, I decided that my Teddy Bear would rank as significant just about every morning.

Things were going to be different, and soon. Once I started the thought, the train ran away with me. I had an apartment to consider, complete with a newly acquired submissive. I had a business to run, and G_d only knew what changes would take place there. Sean might want a honeymoon, which meant that I needed a fill in, and CC was not ready yet. The catalog had been put to bed, but there were wrap up details that still needed tidying. There were some unsettling rumors concerning my building, which deserved a long look. At least the wedding planning should be easy. How complicated could a small backyard wedding get, especially on our schedule?

First things first. I slipped out of bed and grabbed my phone on the way to the bathroom. As expected, Francine had sent me a dozen messages, getting progressively more profane. Knowing her habits, there was no way she was up. It would serve her right.

Phone: If this is Schwartzkopf, you are a shit, the lowest form of life and I am insanely jealous. I hope you had a good fuck. Meet me at the old diner at 9:00. Everyone else, screw yourself, I'm busy.

OK. Score that one for Francine. It was already 8:15 AM, so I needed to hurry. Running back into the bedroom, still naked, I looked for the inevitable intercom. It was on the wall, next to the door. I pressed a button and said, "Who is driving today?" I took a moment, then a familiar voice responded.

This is Gerald. What can I do for you Miss Schwartz?

"Gerald, this ought to be below your pay grade."

You have a point ma'am, but this is an unusual situation.

Wow. I felt like Rene Russo, in The Thomas Crown Affair, when Pierce Brosnan said he never brought anyone to his cabin. Unless I missed my guess, Gerald was Sean's head of security. That meant a lot of things, which I would have to sort out later. For the moment, I needed to get a ride.

"Well, I think I can make it a bit more unusual. But first, would you have someone get a car ready. I need to meet someone in town, at 9:00, and I have no clothes to change into. Unless Sean keeps a closet full of woman's clothes, for his guests ... did I hear you snort?"

Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am. I will have a car ready in ten minutes. Is there anything else?

"Gerald, do you remember when I said I was glad you were the center of information flow?"

Uh, ma'am, that sounds very ominous.

"Gerald, you barely know me, yet you know me well. Here is the short version, which you may unpack at leisure. Sean and I became engaged last night. The wedding is a week from today, here on the grounds, with a reception to follow. I would love to chat, but I have a meeting, and you have calls to make. Fortunately, most people are up by now. Now, aren't you glad you got this message in person, so to speak?"

Sean:

Waking is not usually difficult. There is a radio across the room, which plays annoying financial information til I shut it up. When Sheila came home with me, I had managed to switch the alarm off, so I had had more than two extra hours of sleep. Somehow the clock read 9:12 and I was still half asleep.

I stumbled to the house com. Pressing the button I said, "Who is on this weekend." Then there was a noticeable delay. Gerald would be chewing someone out over that.

Good morning. This is Gerald. What can I do for you. Gerald?

"Gerald, what the hell are you doing, at the com, on a Saturday morning? This is way below your pay grade." My God, Gerald laughed.

Sorry, Sir. It is just that Miss Schwartz used those exact words an hour ago. It has been a busy hour. Oh my hairy balls.

"I take it Sheila informed you of her new status."

Yes, Sir, in passing. The big news was the where and when of the nuptials." Oh shit. "If I may say, Sir, Miss Schwartz has an uncanny ability to do a thirty minute brief, in fifteen seconds. Are you sure that this is where you want to go, Sir? God I loved this woman.

"Gerald, if that was entire briefing, she left out the part about wanting a room remodeled. Hopefully, we will need it in nine months. How is that for compact information?"

I stand corrected, Sir.

"I assume you assigned Miss Schwartz a car and driver today. Did she take it?"

Yes, Sir, and no, Sir. She asked for a ride to her apartment. She was observed to make a quick change and drive off in her personal vehicle. She was not accompanied by Miss Collins. She indicated an 0900 meeting.

"I cannot say I am surprised by any of that. Send her a text message, requesting a conference. She is to have have family grade access, both here at the house and in the garage, starting immediately. Her shadow, Miss Collins, will have overnight guest status, until further notice. We will need to work her apartment into the rotation, as soon as possible, and get her car vetted. Sell that to her as an oil change and tune up. See what she will sit still for and shoot me a note ASAP. Give me a full write up on everything tonight.

"Enjoy your weekend."

Security people will run your life, if you let them. I was glad to learn Sheila had her whip in hand when she dealt with them. Of course, finding Sheila with a whip in her hand is rarely surprising. Security would be putting in some serious overtime this week, and that was if things stayed small. As Han Solo would say, I had a bad feeling.

After talking with Gerald, I attacked the email stack. Word of my engagement had not hit, yet, but rumor of the catalog was running amok. Harold Johnstead sent personal assurances that everything would be available for the Monday mail. I wondered how many extra copies he would be keeping. Just to tweak his beak, I replied with a request for 200 wedding invitations, priority job.

There was nothing from Helen in the stack, but that only meant that she was doing something at church. At least I was not Catholic. Confessing fornication was not something I wanted to try. My best guess was that Sheila was a non practicing Jew, but I would need to ask. Pastor Myers would perform the ceremony, regardless, but I needed to find out. I had visions of stomping a glass in a yarmulke. Not going there. Thank God I owned a catering company.

Helen could handle the invitations. It would be strictly local and family, but I had a feeling that would not hold the crowd down much. Sheila might want a small affair, but I had doubts. In the mean time, I needed to talk to Justin. Rumors would be bad enough, just from what I gave Harold. Having a local photographer would be even worse.

One interesting item was a note from Julian, the corset maker. He said the Bridal Corset would be ready for a fitting on Tuesday. He noted that he was aware of the dress requirements, and guaranteed proper fit. The dress was scheduled for Friday, which was cutting things close. I thanked him. I also told him to expect at least one other person for a fitting. Sheila had mentioned CC was a size 8. My eyeball analysis said 32 C. Hopefully that was enough to get Julian started. I did not bother mentioning Francine Martel, since she would likely wear a corset on the outside.

After that. I went to scrounge some breakfast. I could contemplate what Sheila's reverse cowgirl was telling me. It was a nice counterpoint to fried egg on toast. Heaven help me when people started to get home from wherever they went on Saturday mornings.

Sheila:

I pulled up at the 7^th Street Diner at 9:07 AM. That made me seven minutes late, by most standards, or 23 minutes early, by Francine time. However, I was not surprised to be met at the door with, "You're late. Where the fuck have you been, and how much fucking was involved?" Francine can be subtle. Really, she can. This was not going to be one of those times.

I came inside to find Francine next to the wreckage of a three egg omelet, half a dozen donuts, three cups of coffee and at least five cigarette butts. By law, all restaurants are non-smoking, but that has never applied to divas like Francine Martel. Fortunately, there was a cold cup of black coffee on the other side of the table. I drained it and waived it in the air until someone picked up a pot. Only then did I look at my recently refound friend. Everything I was prepared to say died at the sight.

Francine was not only an hour early to a meeting, which should have been impossible, she was absolutely riveted on my face. My guess was that she had been up since 5:00 AM. at the latest, which would be three hours ahead of schedule, on a workday. My engagement was the only thing out of the ordinary, so this was all for my benefit. I would have been flattered, if I were not so appalled. Instead, I came around the table and gave her a Sean-like hug. Funny how I associated hugs and Sean so quickly.

Much of the tension ran out of Francine, but she was still a gossip queen in full bore. I had to tell her every detail of the proposal. Every few seconds I would get a "No" or a "You're shitting me." I did not not slow down til I heard, "Holy shit, you left before dinner was served?" I guess we had, hence eating at Wendy's. Holy shit, indeed.

About that time, the waitress came around wanting my order. Francine ordered a trucker breakfast, while I asked for boiled egg and oatmeal. And more coffee. Suddenly I felt like I was going on four hours of sleep, even though it had been closer to six. Francine gave a knowing look and said nothing. I believe I have mentioned how nervous a quiet Francine makes me.

So, I told her about my time in Sean's shower and bed. I went through it all in loving detail. When I finally reached the part where I heard her message, still less than an hour earlier, Francine gave me a sour look. Other than that, not a thing.

Finally, she spoke. "Split the bamboo." Say what? I must have looked confused. "It's from the Kama Sutra. Look it up. Good God Schwartz, how can you be so innocent? You have been whipping naked men for a decade, and you do not even know basic sex techniques. You are describing A zone stimulation--look that up too--which you get when Ricky bumps your cervix. I would lay money you own a vibrator that is at least a foot long." I think I blushed at that.

"While you are at it, look up the ballerina position. Sean will love it and you can do it anywhere. Its absolutely perfect for airline sex. I can not do it. I'm too fucking short. Never mind looking it up, I will send you a copy. I have a dozen.

"So, you are getting married. When?"

I had dreaded this question. There was no way I could pull off a nonchalant with Francine. Instead, I went very still, looked Francine straight in the eyes and spit it out. "Next Saturday, at Sean's house. Will you be one of my ladies?" Up til now, I only thought Francine was unnaturally quiet. She might have turned to stone, except that her mouth fell open and she dropped a donut she had been dunking.

It only lasted a moment. "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you. Blessed are you among women... Fucking A, Schwartz, you know how to drop big fucking bombs. Are there any small surprises?" Oh my G_d. I had not even thought of that.

"No, Francine, I am not pregnant. Hopefully, that will change next weekend."

"OK. That covers the next three questions. What about the dress?"

"Sean ordered me one."

"That's right, you said. Here's the deal. I may not be able to get off next Saturday. If I do, it will be because of who you are, not who I am. I have to be honest; I am no longer the headliner I was five years ago. On the other hand, Mistress Cynthia is both famous and infamous. Do you want me to try? Better yet, do you want me to drop the show? Elizabethtown is the last stop, and my understudy, whatever her name is, can use some stage time."

That was a bag of questions. Dropping a show was a big deal. However, dropping one town in a run, to an understudy, was much more acceptable. An important wedding was reasonable grounds. The second level was that Francine was offering to help with the wedding, and possibly more. My clients were going to need someone, if I took a week for a honeymoon. I am not sure I trusted Francine long term, but she would get off on the costumes and theatrics for a while. There was also the subtext that Francine could use my name profitably, which struck me as upside down.

At that point our food arrived. I ate my oatmeal and egg, while Francine inhaled another couple thousand calories. By the time I was sipping my coffee, wishing it were tea, I had half a plan.

"Francine, I will not say yes or no now. Go to practice and float a balloon. We will talk tonight. Either way, I may need some of your contacts. Doing things on the fly, like we will have to, a costuming company might be the source for the maid's dresses. In fact, a set company might be good for our reception. Give em a call, whenever, and we will talk." I stood and put $10 on the table.

"For now, I need to go take CC shopping. I gave her to Jason last night, so I need to see if she is still my submissive." I heard a fork clatter and caught a glimpse of Francine's open mouth. It was probably the first time in ten years that Francine had let someone else get the last word, much less paid for a meal. It was turning into a good morning.

Rather than go directly to the hotel, I went back to my apartment and made up a crash bag: toilet kit, change of clothes, flogger, restraints, etc. I was not sure who I would pick up. If she was CC, that required one response. Tess would require a different one. My best guess was a close call. I just hoped her night had been as memorable as mine.

I drove the car around to Jason's room and honked the horn. After a short pause, the door opened and both Jason and CC came out. One glance at their faces told me that I needed a fourth option. Something significant had gone on, and it was not just sex. Jason had a notepad in his hand, so I rolled the window down and he handed it to me. I asked what was going on, but Jason said it was too complex for a parking lot. Seeing CC, I believed him, so I let it lie.

As we drove us off, I examined CC. There was a lot to take in. She was freshly washed, but she was wearing the same clothes she had worn the day before. She had a well fucked aura, but not a satisfied one. Far from it. At that point, I realized I was going to deal with this as a CC issue. We needed to talk, but, with CC, that was a problem. I was at a loss, when I saw a sign ahead.

It read "Best Buy."

Sean:

After talking to Gerald, I pulled on a pair of shorts and pumped iron for half an hour. Then I climbed on the bike and set the gauge for 10/20. This meant I was going to ride for 10 simulated miles, and the computer would ding me when I dropped below 20 miles per hour. After I worked up to speed, I started making notes on the recorder I keep mounted on the bars.

Open the main ballroom and clean thoroughly, top priority.

Notify kitchen staff that a major event was coming.

Have Henri coordinate food prep with Richard in Catering.

Hire dance music for the ball room and a DJ for outside.

Get outdoor sound, tables and chairs from Events.

Get with Sheila on decorations.

Contact family, get RSVP. Check with Sheila about having Jo in her party.

Get the grounds crew started. The gazebo will do for the altar, but seating must be laid out.

Priority calls:

Mother and Father

Jo and George

Minister

Best Man

House and Grounds

Once I finished my ride, I did a quick shower and started on the calls. Easiest first, which mean my baby sister, who was now a grad student at Dartmoth. Fortunately, semester was over, so she probably only had research to do.

Phone: Hello.

"Good Morning Jo Jo. This is your big brother calling."

Phone: Don't call me that. It's almost as bad as my real name. Is someone in the hospital?

"Close. I am getting married. Can you make it down this week?"

Phone: Clarence, it is not nice to even joke about things like that. Now, what is really going on?

"I am cold serious. The wedding is set for next Saturday, here at the house. Can you make it, and do you want to be in the bridal party?"

Phone: Oh my God. Are you serious? Of course I will be down. When did this happen? How did Mother react? Have you told Father? Why so soon?

"Slow down. Let me get that in order. Yes, I am completely serious. I proposed last night and we decided to make it as soon as possible, then cut off a week. You are the first I am telling, so neither Mother or Father have had a comment. Tracking Father down may not be easy. Frankly, I expect Mother to send regrets and a white elephant. I hope to have George in my party, but he may have more trouble getting away, if he remembers. Before you ask, no, she is not pregnant, but she wants to be.

"About my fiancé, she is a local business woman, but very low key. She owns some important real estate and has just finished a major publishing project. You should absolutely get together and compare notes. To give one example, she owns, and uses, a collection of authentic, 19^th century, hand lacquered, oriental hair pins. If you are going to be in her party, I should warn you that the wedding dress is a Victorian design, including a corset. Her name is Sheila Schwartz."

Phone: No! A corset? Really? Wait a minute, that name is familiar. Why?

"Think dance."

Phone: Right. She was at Gruber's studio the year Mother forced me to attend. She and that short little bitch, what was her name, were the stars. I remember she was going to do a part in The Nutcracker at Lincoln Center. Then. she just disappeared.

"I think she did play at Lincoln Center. I would have to check. However, she overdeveloped, and Herr Gruber, rather unceremoniously, dumped her. That was ten or eleven years ago, but it left scars."