Frank headed for the door. “Meeting over. Fitz, I want to see you in my office. Now!”
The old man walked out of the conference room. Clem wanted to beat the living crap out of Fitz but his nemesis exited after his boss before Clem could get around the table to throttle him. Fitz glanced back at Clem and winked.
As everyone shuffled out of the conference room with several despondent rumblings, a bewildered Chuck Svensen approached a very unhappy Clem.
“What the fuck’s going on here, Clem?”
“No idea. I just know that the old man is so fucking past his sell-by date.”
“He shouldn’t be backing Fitz on something this big. This sets a really bad vibe down in the creative department.”
“Not just your department, Chuck.”
Inside Mistress Krystal’s apartment, Tara looked up at the clock. It was close to five thirty and it gave her palpitations. Six o’clock was when Clem had his so-called dinner appointment with the mysterious Daniel Ellerby. A weird tingle shot down Tara’s spine. She jumped off her bar stool and started to pace the kitchen floor.
Mistress Krystal decided it was time to break out the good stuff in the tea department.
“Royal Doulton makes the finest bone china. Earl Grey tastes so much better in these cups,” she said, taking two rose-patterned china cups with matching saucers out of the cupboard.
“I’ve had enough tea, thanks.”
“If you’re hungry I’ve got more cookies in the cupboard.”
“I’m good.”
Mistress K went off to check her eye make-up in the bathroom mirror but Tara was still ruminating on her previous quip about going off script. “What sort of improv?” Tara called out, not sure she really wanted to hear the answer.
“Whatever takes my imagination at the time,” replied Mistress Krystal, walking back into the kitchen.
That was another cryptic answer that did nothing to reassure Tara. Mistress Krystal walked off into the playroom and began to roll up the plastic sheeting. Tara followed her. “Who’s your six o’clock client?” Tara asked bluntly, not expecting a name.
“Just another guy who needs to get his rocks off. This one wears me out.” Mistress Krystal huffed as she got down on the floor and carefully started rolling the sheet.
“So…..do you ever have sex with any of your clients?”
“Depends.”
Tara was getting frustrated not getting any straight answers out of her teacher. She wanted to know what she should expect at six o’clock. After all,
this was why she was here.
This was the culmination of her master plan. It was making her antsy and now she was getting snappy.
“What does that mean? It’s a simple enough question. Yes or no?”
Now it was Mistress Krystal who was down on her knees as she rolled up the wet plastic sheeting. Tara stood over her.
So who was in control now?
Mistress Krystal looked up at Tara.
“Occasionally.”
“So you
have
had sex with them then. Why?”
“Because I wanted to, not because they asked for it. It’s about control, remember?” She stood up. They were now at eye level again. “These guys give that control over to me when they come into my domain.”
Mistress Krystal dumped the soiled plastic in a big black trash bag. “They come here willingly. They wanna be told what to do. They want me to control everything. That’s what gets them off. I’ll take what I want out of it.”
“Like…..what?”
“Sometimes I might let them suck a nipple or lick my pussy. Depends on my mood. There’s one guy I like to blow every now and again ‘cos he’s kinda cute. He’s got a great body and a really nice cock.”
Tara didn’t want to hear that, especially as Clem perfectly fit the description. These weren’t the answers she was hoping to hear.
“I know you enjoyed that last session. I could see it in your eyes when you gave him those last few whacks,” Mistress Krystal smiled. “Maybe one more session after this and you’ll be ready.” Tara raised an eyebrow.
“Ready for what?”
“Look Angelina, I’m not an idiot. You wanna go into business working as a pro dom. I’m not that dumb. The money’s good and I don’t blame you.”
“But that’s not true!” Tara protested.
Mistress Krystal laughed. “Hun, I don’t give a shit. I’ve got my clients and you’ll soon find there are a boatload more out there.”
“No, that’s not what I want,” Tara insisted. Mistress Krystal waved a dismissive hand.
“You could use this place, too. We can work out a deal, split the rent.”
“No, no, no, that hadn’t crossed my mind at all. You’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I just want to….”
“Spice it up in the bedroom with your husband? Hun, you don’t need to pay me three hundred big ones cash to learn how to do that. Anyway, think it over. It’s a good offer.”
Tara was blindsided by the suggestion. It had never entered her mind. She had absolutely no intention of becoming a professional dominatrix though she felt strangely flattered that Mistress K thought that she could hack it if she wanted to. Tara simply wasn’t made of the same mental toughness that her tutor possessed. Inflicting pain on strangers, day in, day out was not her bag.
She was growing impatient and now her adrenalin levels were starting to soar as the clock ticked closer to six.
Back in Frank Bergenson’s office, the mood was very different. Fitz was all smiles as he sat in the serenity of Frank’s corner office. Frank walked over to his drinks cabinet and poured himself a large dram of Glendronach but didn’t offer any to Kurt Fitzgerald.
Fitz’s phone rang. Molinaire’s name came up on the caller ID.
“Hang on, Frank. I’d better take this.”
“Go ahead.”
He picked up the call. “James, what can I do for you, sir?” Fitz sounded like a willing servant eager to please his master. He listened to his instructions. “Absolutely. I’ll Fed Ex those out to you today.”
Frank Bergenson reclined silently in his plush leather chair, drink in hand, while Fitz continued his call. “No problem. Anytime.” Fitz hung up and smiled at Frank. “He’s happy.”
“Good,” said Frank Bergenson as he sipped the amber nectar in his whisky glass. “Seems you and our favorite client have hit things off rather nicely.”
“Clem just can’t admit that anyone else can do anything better than him. He’d never have approved a campaign he wasn’t involved in,” said Fitz, feeling victorious.
“Trouble is, Kurt, you two assholes are going to kill each other if I don’t resolve this thing soon and announce my successor,” Frank frowned. “I thought Clem was the man to fill my shoes but if he’d stolen that account to start his own agency we’d be in huge financial trouble and we’d be stuck with you in control of this place.”
Fitz’s comfort level suddenly went down a notch.
“Stuck?”
“You know what I mean, Fitz. I’m sure Chuck Svensen would feel that way.”
“He’ll get over it.”
“We both know Rebakor is a trigger-happy client who’s fired every agency they’ve ever had. They’re big bullies who are used to getting their own way. Why should they treat us any differently?”
Where was this soliloquy leading? Fitz wondered.
Frank continued. “Now, I don’t know whether you’re a better man than Clem Drew for the job but I’ve averted a potential crisis and created a situation.”
“Situation? Stuck? What are these words you’re using, Frank?” Fitz was puzzled. He didn’t like being slighted like this.
“I don’t know precisely what went down in Louisville between you and Molinaire but I’m getting the distinct impression you threw Clem under the bus.”
“It was all
your
idea, Frank!” Fitz raised his voice in disbelief.
“I wanted you to get tighter with the client so he would get used to working with you and not just Clem. And you went and told him Clem was out playing golf?”
Now Fitz was on the defense. “So what? Molinaire loved the campaign!”
“I can’t believe you said that.”
“I didn’t. Charlie blurted it out.”
“Well, you need to go and fire Charlie Knutson!” Frank shouted. Fitz took a deep breath. He sat quietly for a moment thinking hard.
“Can’t we just reassign him?” Fitz suggested. His unauthorized attempted coup de gras at Rebakor was now coming back to bite him in the butt.
“Sure, we can reassign him -- to another ad agency, preferably in another town.” Frank finished his drink. He banged his empty glass down on his desk and appeared frustrated with the situation that he’d created. He’d wanted Fitz to create a wedge between Molinaire and Clem, not a canyon. But he was running out of time now. He stood up and wandered over to the window view. As he stared out at the downtown skyline, Fitz’s eyes followed him across the room.
“Do you know Mike Beresford over at Fallon?” Frank asked, as he watched a passenger jet fly off into the distance.
“Yeah. Creative Director over there, isn’t he?”
“What do you know about him?”
“Smart guy. Won a ton of awards.” Fitz had no idea where this conversation was going.
“Is he happy over there?”
“Damned if I know. He’s a creative man. Those guys are never happy. Look at Svensen. You gonna bring Beresford over here?”
“No. Chuck’s a good CD for us.”
“Why d’you ask then?”
“Beresford’s been getting tight with Clem. He called Clem out the blue the other day. Wants a meeting with him.”
Fitz raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? How’d you know that?”
Frank turned around and walked back to his desk. “Because I know everything, Fitz. Even before it’s happened.”
“I need to get that package out to Molinaire.” Fitz stood up to leave but Frank wasn’t finished with him yet.
“That’s why I know you’re an arrogant asshole, Fitz. That’s also why I hired you.”
“Geez, am I meant to take that as a compliment?”
“Yes. Because
I’m
an arrogant asshole. That’s how I got to be where I am today. This business has no room for nice guys.”
“What are you getting at?” Fitz looked puzzled by his boss’s statement. “Jesus, is this trash Fitz day?”
“On the contrary, I want you to come to our board meeting next week. I want the directors to meet their new CEO.”
“Seriously?”
Frank was handing him the job of CEO on a plate right there and then. If there had been any doubt in Frank’s mind it had now, suddenly, been resolved. The simple fact was that Rebakor was the cash cow and Molinaire seemed to like the scheming Fitz. To Frank, it was a no-brainer. To Fitz, it was everything he thought he’d lost and the nail in Clem’s coffin.
“Fantastic. I’d love to.” Kurt Fitzgerald felt a powerful surge of fabulousness spread throughout his entire body that made him want to punch his fists in the air and scream from the top of the Kemp building. He’d done the impossible. He’d trumped Golden Balls. The old man had finally laid his cards on the table and they had come up trumps for Kurt Fitzgerald.
“Not a word, hear me,” Bergenson warned him, knowing how Fitz must be feeling. “Keep this under wraps.”
“Absolutely, Frank. You can trust me on that.”
Bergenson leaned across and shook Fitz’s hand. The deal was as good as done.
CHAPTER 14
It was close to showtime. Tara sat back on the barstool and pulled her latex boots high up her thighs. She’d drank enough tea to last her a lifetime. Now she was ready for something decidedly stronger.
“This next one’s an interesting character,” announced Mistress Krystal. Tara’s eyes widened.
“In what way?”
“He’s some big shot in advertising. He’s a licker.”
Tara leapt to her feet as a bolt of adrenalin shot through her like a gallon of Red Bull suddenly hitting her central nervous system. This was it, the moment she’d planned for but it was now the moment she was dreading.
Clem was a licker? Please Lord, no.
“What’s his name?” Tara asked fearfully.
“Sissy Boy.”
“Sissy Boy?” Tara’s heart was beating way too fast and with a name like that it didn’t bode well.
“What’s his real name?”
“Hell if I know.”
“And what does Sissy Boy like to lick?” Tara asked, really not sure she wanted to hear the answer. Mistress Krystal’s expression changed to a devilish smile.
“You’ll find out soon enough, Mistress Angelina.”
All Tara cared about at that moment was whether Clem would recognize her. She’d deliberately purchased an outfit that hid her identity. Her Catwoman hood and mask concealed her eyes and most of her nose. The dim lighting would help too but her voice would be a dead giveaway. She would have to disguise it as much as possible or maybe she wouldn’t say anything.
“Well, it’s gone six. He’s late.”
“He’ll be here.”
Tara paced anxiously. “Okay, so what’s the script for this guy? I need to know ahead of time before you bring me in on some more weird stuff.”
Mistress Krystal smiled. “Relax. Don’t worry, it’ll be weird.”
“Exactly! That’s why I’m getting nervous. I don’t want to screw it up.”
“Screw what up? Look, hun. You don’t even know this person.”
Bzzzzzz!
Sissy Boy had arrived. Mistress Krystal took up her position in the playroom standing with legs astride waiting for him to enter.
“Stay in the kitchen,” she ordered Tara. “I’ll tell him you’ll be running today’s session.”
“What?”
“Relax and enjoy it,” Mistress Krystal smiled, oblivious to the internal meltdown Tara was now experiencing.
“But what do I do?” asked Tara, in a panicked whisper. “What’s the script?”
“It’s loose.”
“Loose? What does that mean?”
“Stay cool, hun. Whatever you want. He wants to be told what to do and he’ll take any punishment you want to give him. He really just wants to lick.”
That did nothing to reassure her as she paced even faster back and forth in the small kitchen and realizing for the first time just how much tight latex and leather made you sweat.
Bzzzzzz!
Mistress Krystal buzzed him in. Sissy Boy walked down the hallway and placed a bunch of money on the side table. He was smartly dressed in a well-fitted suit. Mistress K had a direct line of view into the hallway from her playroom and mentally counted the bills with him, not that anyone had ever chiseled her before. After all, if they did, it would be their last appointment.