Kitty & Teddy, LLC Ch. 06

My plan was for dinner at Albert's. As fine dining goes, it was the best in town, but a far cry from what was available in the City. One of these days, I would take her to Le Bernardin after a Broadway show. Sheila had played the Lincoln Center at age 15. I wondered if she had ever been back.

However, tonight was a local steak and seafood restaurant. I could not even wow her with my wine choices, because she did not touch the stuff. It was going to be a simple CS Richards show, if there was such a thing. I pulled the car in front of her apartment building and checked the time: 7:59:32 PM. At 8:00:02, the door opened and Sheila came out. Lag went to her this round.

I was wearing my usual business suit, with a clean shirt and a businesslike tie. Sheila wore a classic floral print dress, knee length, and comfortable shoes and a white shawl. We could go almost anywhere in town, including church. I had given George the night off. If I got lucky, there was no telling when I might be finished. If not, I would not have to see him when I came out. As I held the door for her, I realized that this was her first time in the front seat of the Mercedes. Hopefully it was an omen of other firsts. I had never proposed to anyone before.

I asked if she had any preference for the restaurant. She killed my plan by asking to go somewhere out of town. That gave me a lot of options. We had done traditional Italian the weekend before, so I thought something similar would be nice. Sheila liked Greek. We could get that at Vicenzo's Grill and I could still get my steak. I put the car into traffic and we headed for Pennsylvania.

We drove in silence past the edge of town. It was not uncomfortable, but the issues of the day were not light ones. Sheila broke the silence by asking where we were going. I told her Easton, Pennsylvania. She smiled and told me that she had driven to Easton the week before, to meet with Francine Martel. I recalled my own meeting with Francine. It was earlier in the week, but it seemed a hundred years ago, which I told her. She laughed in full understanding.

Then she became more serious. "I saw you coming out of the gym about 5:30."

Was I caught with my hand in the cookie jar? "Yes. I am thinking of doing some real estate work in the area. George and I were scouting. By the way, George thinks the gym could use a pool. Your Claudia Johnson thinks it could use your studio space." There. That covered all the bases.

She surprised me. Most people rarely manage it. With Sheila I had lost count. "I think we, that is I, can accommodate Claudia. I came inside shortly after you left and Claudia dragged me into her office. Since she had already put you and I together, I told her that the back of the building was a discrete photography studio, and that I worked there. I also, somewhat obliquely, threatened her job by telling her that the GM had full knowledge."

My mouth fell open, and I was forced to shut it. I was no stranger to misdirection in business circles. That was a work of art: simple, cohesive, and it explained all the sneaking. The changes necessary to convert her BDSM studio, into a photographic studio which dealt in the same subject, were trivial. Haul in some lighting equipment and haul away some props. The space and layout were suitable for either. Clearly, protective coloring was central to her methods. Her theater training was showing again.

I offered, "You seem to have given this some thought."

She disagreed. "Not much til today. But, this kind of thing has come up before. I have an eye on the old middle school downtown. The juice of it all is that XTreme Fitness would pay me to move. My wall of rings would make a great free climbing wall. The showers are there, and there is room to expand the lockers. My offices and the storage area would serve the same purpose for the gym. I could rough out the changes in a week and have it operating in a month, inspectors willing."

That last jerked a laugh from me. More of my deals have gone south over a customs inspector, usually exceeding his authority, than any other reason. Then it hit me. This was her idea of off-the-cuff thinking. I had seen plans a month old with less depth and cohesion. God she was good. It was time to make her an official part of my half-baked neighborhood renewal program.

I sketched out the ideas I had for the neighborhood. She agreed with most, but cautioned me about the railroad building. Hazardous waste in the soil was a potential deal breaker. I should have thought of that one myself. We batted some additional ideas around til it was time to pay attention to city traffic.

One thing I like about downtown restaurants is that the parking is easy after business hours. I pulled into a metered spot across the street, and we walked into the grill, hand in hand. The décor is exposed rock with a heavy beamed ceiling. They were going for old school, even though the place was less than twenty years in the location. It was also late enough that there were several tables.

We ordered iced tea for me and bottled water for Sheila. I added an order of artichokes milanese as an appetizer. For the main course, I ordered a stone grilled steak with portabella mushrooms, and Sheila ordered wine braised chicken. Since it was late, I preordered the apple flambé and espresso for dessert.

Unlike our Italian meal the week before, the conversation lagged. We had covered the potential pot hole of her real estate situation. That left her reaction to the checks and my little surprise. It did not seem the right time to propose marriage, so I mentioned that Peter had recorded the paycheck scene for me. Sheila blushed a deep red. I could almost read her mind on this point. She was going to tell me it was far too much money. I held up my hand.

"Before you try to tell me that it is too much money and that you did not earn it, I disagree. Moreover, Peter and Justin disagree. Harold disagrees. Do you think he has every commercial client sign the cover proof? Do not make me laugh. I saw you promise to sign one with lipstick -- nice move restricting him to one, by the way -- and I doubt if he has ever done anything remotely like that in his life.

"I paid out over $180,000 today, counting Harold's printing firm, and you were the most valuable part of that. Simply put, the rest of that collection of respected professionals could not have done it at all, much less with the artistic achievement that you did. That cover shot is not suitable for the major commercial photography awards, but trust me, Immons Images will rake in hardware for it. Inside of a week, ten days on the outside, Sheila Schwartz will be world famous in certain circles." I paused for a breath.

"It goes further than that. You made Richards Enterprises look good. This was an auction we fought hard to get, and during our date last week, I was in damage control mode. Today, I am anticipating a triumph. Justin's firm will be deluged with work. Peter will be sought after as a tech weenie. My God, can you imagine the offers that will come to Jason?

"Be ready for Mistress Cynthia to be on everyone's lips. It is a very good thing you are prepared to move out. Events may force you to do it sooner rather than later. You are Indiana Jones, and the big stone ball is rolling straight at you."

In the back of my mind, I was recalling our first session, still less than two weeks before. I had had to pull out all the stops, just to get a small reaction out of her. Our second session was even tighter. This time, I had used the big guns, and all Sheila did was turn ghostly white. Not a sound had come from her lips. God I loved this woman.

When the color finally returned to her face, she absolutely stumped me. Her first question was, "What position?"

I played that through three times in my head, before it made sense. Even then I could not believe what I was hearing. So I asked, "What do you mean, 'what position'?" I was right. Sheila was ahead of me, again.

She said, "CC said you had a position to offer me. What position?" I was an open book to her.

"Spouse."

"Show me." Again, she was ahead of me.

I pulled the old Clannagh ring from my pocket. "This ring was given by William Trent, 3^rd Earl of Clancarty, to his bride Sarah, in 1832. I offer it to you, without let or reservation, in token of my affection. I am afraid it is too small for you to use, except on a pinkie." I placed it in her hand.

Then, I pulled the other ring from my pocket and dropped to one knee. "This replica, suitable for your hand, I offer as pledge of my troth, in the hope that you consent to be my bride. How say you?" I swear, it just came out that way.

I thought that Sheila had been white before, but I was wrong. However, with a face as white as high gloss paper, she did not let me down. "Rise, for your petition is granted. I accept these pledges of your affection and your troth. Let the bans be published."

I threw $200 on the table, picked her up and carried her to the car. We were half way out of town, before I realized we had only eaten the appetizer. Fortunately, there was a Wendy's nearby.

Sheila:

Momma said I had a bump for the weather. She did not mean just wind and rain. I could also sense emotional storms beginning to brew. I found myself home before 6:00 PM, with nothing to do til my date arrived. I tried a shower, but that made things worse. I considered meditation, but I did not know yoga. Instead, still naked from the shower, I went to Tess' sleeping rug and slipped into Second Position. It was surprisingly calming. My experiences with Sean to the contrary, I am not a naturally submissive person. Taking on the form of submission seemed to help me accept the situation.

That still left me with a date to dress for. Sean had said "normal" attire, so he did not plan a scene as such. That left me with a wide range of possibilities. I decided wholesome would work best. That decided, I showered again with purpose, shaving closely and using the herbal shampoo. Then I dried and powdered in preparation for putting on the bustier.

Julian's bustier is the first undergarment Sean ever saw me wearing. It was my favorite since the day I bought it. It is also a royal bitch to get on. I stood for a moment, stroking the ecru silk and thinking about the day Sean took it off. Then, I pulled it to my body, back forward and a bit low. In this position, the upper middle hooks could be set in place, and still leave it loose enough to slip around the body, so the front was forward. Then I could force my oversized tits into the smaller cups.

Once this was done, I stepped to my special vanity. I have a double mirror set up and padded clamps, which serve as third and fourth hands. I used these to hold the waist together while I fastened the hooks. This was nontrivial ten hours after eating, so it was quite difficult four hours after lunch. That done, I sat on my stool and repeated the process on the upper part. I may not do yoga, but I have learned to be a bit of a contortionist.

Once the bustier was in place, I selected a white floral print dress, in a mid century style. It would be suitable for dining or dancing. For stockings, I chose a simple off white silk. For naughtiness, I went with the red panties. Sean liked my hair, so I pinned it to the middle and wore the tail down, with just a white ribbon. I was tempted to use the red lipstick, but toned it down to a pink gloss. The overall effect was very church on Sunday, if you did not know about the bustier or the red panties.

That left me with half an hour to kill. I used a chunk of it to bring Francine up to date via email. I could have called, but then I might have missed Sean arriving. There is no way Francine would let me off the phone before I had to leave. As it was, I headed downstairs with two minutes to spare, which was about the time I needed to get to the entrance door. Sure enough, Sean had pulled up in that two minutes. Our little game of punctuality continued, though I had lost track of who was ahead.

Sean was holding the front door open, which meant there was not a driver. That was a pity. I was hoping to get some necking in. Once we were settled in, Sean asked where I would like to go. Nothing local appealed to me, so I asked him to choose an out of town restaurant. He may have been planning on going to Albert's, but I did not want to meet any of my clients that night. After a moment's thought, Sean headed us out of town, going west.

I asked where we were going, and Sean said to Easton. That struck me as funny, because I had met Francine there the week before. It seemed like much longer. I mentioned this to Sean, and we both laughed. Then I asked about him being at the gym.

Sean was not the least coy about having checked out my building. I doubt he could lie effectively to me, but so far, he had not tried. We soon were deep into a discussion about the neighborhood and his plans to raise money to upgrade it. Eventually, he asked about my plans for the studio. It struck me as ironic that he would ask, when I had spent time that evening thinking on the same subject. Then I decided that we were seeing the same indicators, which confirmed what my business sense had been telling me. I was already becoming resigned to moving.

Fortunately, we had arrived in Easton, so I did not have time to get depressed. Sean had chosen a downtown restaurant, with a rustic motif. The odor of grilling steak hit us at the door, which may be the house specialty, but I could also see plates of chicken and seafood. I was glad to see open tables, because it was a little cool to eat outdoors.

We were seated and Sean ordered soft drinks and appetizers. The menu was eclectic. I chose a wine basted chicken, while Sean went for steak. Then we sipped our drinks and waited for the appetizer. I was in no mood for small talk, and the larger issues needed more time. Sean seemed willing to respect the silence, at least til the appetizers arrived.

At that point, Sean mentioned that Peter had sent him streaming video of us opening our checks. I was shocked, then completely embarrassed. Before I recovered enough to say a word, Sean put on his business face and proceeded to lecture me.

"Before you try to tell me that it is too much money and that you did not earn it, I disagree. Moreover, Peter and Justin disagree. Harold disagrees. Do you think he has every commercial client sign the cover proof? Do not make me laugh. I saw you promise to sign one with lipstick -- nice move restricting him to one, by the way -- and I doubt if he has ever done anything remotely like that in his life.

"I paid out over $180,000 today, counting Harold's printing firm, and you were the most valuable part of that. Simply put, the rest of that collection of respected professionals could not have done it at all, much less with the artistic achievement that you did. That cover shot is not suitable for the major commercial photography awards, but trust me, Immons Images will rake in hardware for it. Inside of a week, ten days on the outside, Sheila Schwartz will be world famous in certain circles." He paused for a breath.

I was in stunned. Everything he said fit perfectly with everything else I had seen and heard. Peter and Justin had gone on about how I was clueless. We had discussed how rare it was for the printer to want signed prints. Sean had told me, from the very start, that the project was stuck and in danger of failing. Justin and Peter had each reinforced it. All I had done was give them a motif and done the session with Jason. Sean was telling me that my small contribution was the difference between success and failure. It started to make sense why he had given me almost a quarter of that large pile money.

"It goes further than that. You made Richards Enterprises look good. This was an auction we fought hard to get, and during our date last week, I was in damage control mode. Today, I am anticipating a triumph. Justin's firm will be deluged with work. Peter will be sought after as a tech weenie. My God, can you imagine the offers that will come to Jason?

"Be ready for Mistress Cynthia to be on everyone's lips. It is a very good thing you are prepared to move out. Events may force you to do it sooner rather than later. You are Indiana Jones, and the big stone ball is rolling straight at you."

That hit me. Jason was going to be famous. I could have guessed that. The shots of him turned out so very well, and he was the model. Justin would get credit, and possibly awards, since he had the photographic credits. That made sense. Sean was saying that Cynthia would also be famous, whether I wanted it or not. That would take some adjustment, but I could handle it.

The hard part to take was Sheila Schwartz being world famous. Sean was not kidding. He had said it twice for emphasis. Why did it suddenly seem unimportant? Elementary, my dear, he has another shoe to drop and the second one is always bigger. That could only mean his card. Mentally I pushed aside all that he had just dropped on me. It could wait. Something bigger was going on.

I asked for the real news. "What position."

Sean looked taken back, but he did not pretend he did not know what I meant. He came straight to the point. "Spouse."

There was a ringing in my ears. The room seemed to swirl around me. Yet, as much as the offer set my heart racing, it came as no surprise. Sean had been working on this for a while now. Looking back over the last couple of days, I could sense his steps. Sean also believed in preparation. He had a ring.

"Show me." My stars, Sheila, is that blunt enough?

Sean simply pulled a ring from his pocket. "This ring was given by William Trent, 3^rd Earl of Clancarty, to his bride Sarah, in 1832. I offer it to you, without let or reservation, in token of my affection. I am afraid it is too small for you to use, except on a pinkie." Good heavens.

I knew Sean believed in doing things right, but this was seriously over the top. I might have had the design copied, but not purchased the actual ring. What was with the play dialog, not that it did not seem completely appropriate. Then he got down on one knee.

"This replica, suitable for your hand, I offer as pledge of my troth, in the hope that you consent to be my bride. How say you?" It was exactly the kind of ring I would have had made. This was really happening.

He was doing dialog. I could do the same. "Rise, for your petition is granted. I accept these pledges of your affection and your troth. Let the bans be published." Sean pulled out money and threw it on the table. Then he picked me up and carried me out of the restaurant. Stars and heavens, Momma, I'm engaged.

With theater, there is a final curtain. Sean carried me to the car and we drove off, just like in a script. The problem is that scripts tend to ignore things, like eating the dinner we had ordered. Sean caught that little detail before we made it completely out of town. He had beef and I had chicken, just not the way we planned.

I did get one piece of wickedness in. I text to Francine, Got engaged. How is the show going?

Interlude: 25^th Anniversary

Cindy:

"Dad says I was conceived that night. Mom says Dad is just being romantic. She was using birth control, and did not conceive for at least a week, til after the wedding. A whole week? Really, Mom. It suffices that I came along about nine months after the engagement. Dad claims that they turned their whole lives inside out to have a family. Mom says the biggest adjustment was remodeling the house. Evidently, there was something else where they put the nursery.

What I don't get is that Dad talks about his virgin bride, and Mom only smiles. What's with that?"