Molly's Story Ch. 08: Silk

Molly and Stephen and their story-telling were introduced in "The Professor series," but they continued to write stories and share them with one another. Molly's stories will appear in the BDSM category, while Stephen's better fit under Romance.

Silk

Larry looked around the airplane restlessly. He was bored and depressed, but it was difficult to see why. He was on his way to Japan on his company's dime to negotiate a major import contract with one of Japan's leading manufacturer of silk garments. His partner was Pamela, the current favorite of the company. Pamela was attractive, with a touch of Hispanic in her blood. Most of the office would be delighted to spend this much time in her company and probably make a move. Larry was not immune to her femininity, but resented it. She was younger and less experienced, but she had pulled in several major clients in the past two months. Larry's boss hinted that he should observe how it was done.

Pamela was an easy person to work with on the surface, but Larry sensed she felt superior and looked down on him. She assumed the primary role on this trip although no one had appointed her. That made it hard. He should be the one in charge. He was senior to her. He was a man and she had no right to assume the lead role. He convinced himself that her success came because she was stunning to look at. She could wrap men around her little finger at will and Larry thought that was an unfair advantage. The playing field was tilted.

He put down the paperback that failed to hold his interest and looked across the aisle. Pamela had her laptop out and was scribbling notes. He craned his neck to see what absorbed her. "What are you working on?"

"I'm just going over the backgrounds of the people we will be meeting tomorrow. Mr. Yamazaki is the president of the company, but his son seems to be the real decision-maker in the firm. Mr. Masata is the CFO. The Yamazakis lean heavily on his expertise. I think he is the one we need to convince." She pulled out another vita. "This one, Mr. Sakuta, is in charge of their export division. He will be there, but I think that is only for show. He doesn't really have any say about major decisions."

"Is that all in the briefing the head office gave us?" He had not opened the folder yet.

"No. I got this by searching the internet and from a friend of mine who had dealt with another branch of their company."

They were met at the airport by Mr. Sakuta and taken to a Western-style hotel to freshen up. Respecting their visitor's body clocks, the hosts had scheduled an opening meeting for ten in the evening, which would be mid-morning for the Americans. That gave them three hours.

Larry sat down with the office file and turned on the TV, flipping channels until he found one in English. At 9:30 he took a shower and shaved and put on a new suit. He spent the last 20 minutes looking at the file for the first time.

Pamela had spent the time unpacking her suitcase, carefully hanging up her best silk blouses and laying out a collection of silk scarves. She planned to wear a navy-colored silk business suit with a yellow scarf. The truth was, she loved silk and it wouldn't hurt to show this to the manufacturers. Not being able to decide which scarves to bring with her, she had stuffed her suitcase with about twenty. After unpacking, she set an alarm and lay down to try to nap.

At 10:00 Larry and Pamela descended the elevator to the lobby where the Japanese delegation was already waiting for them. Mr. Sakuta introduced the elder Mr. Yamazaki. Larry held out his hand, while Pamela bowed deeply. Mr. Yamazaki returned the bow. The younger Mr. Yamazaki was introduced next. Taking the cue, Larry bowed deeply. Pamela gave a half bow. The greeting was repeated for Mr. Masata. Then they filed into the reserved conference room.

Mr. Yamazaki admired her scarf. "Is it one of ours?"

"I'm afraid not. It is from Honshu. It was a gift from my mother." Pamela asked about Mr. Yamazaki's health and that of his wife. "And I understand you have a daughter?"

Mr. Yamazaki smiled. "Yes, Yoki. She is in college in Kyoto. She studies English."

"You must be proud of her."

"Thank you. And you? Do you have a family?"

"Not yet. I seem to be married to my work."

"But not forever, I trust."

Larry rolled his eyes. Fortunately, this chitchat was interrupted by a waitress bringing in a tea service. She withdrew and Mr. Sakuta poured six cups and distributed them.

Larry tried to take advantage of this hiatus to turn the conversation to business. "I know it is late for you and you will want to get home soon. So, let's address this first agenda. I assume you have had a chance to look over the sales projections our office sent you?"

Mr. Yamazaki sipped his tea. Larry turned to Mr. Masata. "Is there anything here that concerns you?"

Mr. Masata looked to Mr. Yamazaki. Yamazaki answered, "You are projecting a distribution network over six states and seven hundred thousand dollars in sales in the first twelve months."

'That's right. You see . . ."

"Why only six states?"

Larry paused. He had not expected that question.

"Because initially we are working only with two major retail chains." Pamela answered for him. We are currently negotiating with three more that would extend our coverage into nine more states. We also expect to partner with Amazon for internet sales. I believe you have that in the documents sent to you last Monday. Internet sales are projected to start slowly but reach $200,000 per month within a year."

Mr. Masuta made some comments that prompted a quiet exchange in Japanese that was not translated.

"Miss Edwards," Mr. Yamazaki turned to Pamela, "thank you for bringing that memo to our attention. It had not yet been incorporated into our notes. We will want to examine it further."

"Of course." Pamela nodded her head. "The evening is very pleasant. Is this typical for March?"

"A bit warmer than usual. We wanted to make it comfortable for our American friends," Mr. Yamazaki replied.

"And you have indeed." Pamela smiled. She lifted her cup and swallowed the last of her tea as Mr. Yamazaki did the same.

Mr. Yamazaki rose, followed by all at the table. "Thank you for a profitable meeting. I am sure Taro and Mr. Masuta and Mr. Sakuta look forward to continuing this discussion tomorrow. Unfortunately, I must visit our office in Yokohama."

"I am sorry you will not be with us, but we very much look forward to continuing our conversation." She bowed deeply. Larry gave a quick bow as the four Japanese men left the room.

"What the fuck was that?" he demanded as soon as they were alone.

"That," she said sharply, "Was a ceremonial meeting. Mr. Yamazaki was not here to talk business. He was here to give his authority to the others. But they could not speak up in his presence. The real business begins tomorrow." With that she turned on her high heel, pressed the button to close the elevator door, and left for her room. Larry went to the bar for a drink.

The next day, negotiations began in earnest with Taro Yamazuki and Mr. Masuta. Mr. Sakuta did a lot of translating even though the other two seemed to have pretty good English. They reviewed sales projections, the capacity of the mills to produce silk, and marketing strategies. Many of the details of the contract were agreed upon. However, Taro was concerned about the Americans' insistence on exclusive import rights beyond the states where they currently traded. They seemed to be heading for an impasse, when Pamela changed the subject.

"We have been talking about garments. I know you also have your own designer line of bedding. Can we talk about those?"

"You want to import sheets and comforters also? I thought you only work with clothing."

"So far, yes. But there may be room for us to expand, particularly if we begin internet sales."

The conversation followed a new avenue. Pamela offered to obtain some sales projections in housewares and suggested they meet again after dinner. The meeting came to a close.

Larry was livid. "What are you doing? We were this close to a contract. You know our company does not want to get into housewares. Now we have to start all over." He stormed off. He was angry because he was mostly ignored all afternoon. Nearly every question was addressed to Pamela. He knew she was going to get all the credit, and it was only because the Japs were gaga over an attractive white businesswoman. They had probably never seen one before.

He had a number of drinks and was feeling jet-lagged. A pretty girl with a long dress slit almost to her hip came over to his table. "Want some company, Joe?"

"Sure." He ordered two drinks and made small talk. She was pretty sexy, but he didn't intend to hit her up. After another hour and a few more drinks Larry was pretty drunk and horny and excused himself to go sleep it off.

He took the elevator up to his floor. He walked by Pamela's room, next to his, and saw that her door wasn't fully closed. She had removed her dress and sat in her slip. He stepped in and closed it behind him. "I know what you are doing. You are trying to sabotage this contract so you can rescue it at the last moment and look like a hero. That way you get all the credit and cut me out."

"You are drunk. We have another meeting in four hours."

"What was that crap about bed sheets?"

"That was a transparent ploy to change the subject so that we could all save face and not have to disagree. They know we don't want housewares. When we resume tomorrow we can find out where they really stand on the issues."

He approached and stood right in front of her. "I see it all clearly now. You put on your charms, confuse them with deals that undercut our company. Then you tell your boss that it was the best you could do. They think you're great, while we should be holding out for the best we can get. Stick it to the Japs. Insist on exclusive rights for whole country. Then we can expand all over."

"You know nothing. Get out of my room."

Larry pushed her backward onto the bed. "I'm onto you. And I won't let you get away with it."

"Asshole, get out and go sober up."

"Don't call me an asshole." Larry fell on top of her. She squirmed and managed to turn over, but he was much bigger and stronger. He pulled her hands together and grabbed a scarf that was lying on the bed. Then he managed to tie her wrists.

"Get off of me. What do you think you're doing? I'll have you arrested."

He used another scarf around her mouth as a gag, then pulled her arms over her head.

Dragging her over to the dresser, he opened the drawers to see what else he could use. Bingo. He found her cache of silks. Pamela kept struggling and fell to the floor. Larry fell on top of her. He grabbed her right ankle to keep her from kicking and used a scarf to bind it to her right thigh. He did the same to the left one. Now she was largely immobilized. He lifted her up onto the bed and she tried to strike him with her bound hands. Using his greater size, he turned her over and retied her wrists behind her. Her breasts had come out of her teddy and the nipples were exposed to him. Now he was getting excited.

He turned her on her back and reached out to cup them. With her sex exposed, he could not control himself. He took his hand off long enough unbuckle his belt. Pamela grunted behind her gag and tried to roll out of his reach, now on her side.

At that point he came to his senses and realized he dare not rape her. Instead, he blindfolded her, turned her head and kissed her through the gag. He stood and turned toward the door. "So long bitch." He picked up her computer and spare key, went to his room, set the alarm and fell asleep.

After he left, Pamela found herself helplessly tied on her bed. She could scarcely turn and was in danger of falling onto the floor. She knew that silk is much too strong to tear and that it can tighten into knots very hard to loosen, so she was afraid to struggle. All she could do was wait for him to come to his senses.

When the alarm rang, Larry looked at the clock. Shit. The meeting was downstairs in twenty minutes. He quickly showered, gargled, and dressed. Hurrying downstairs, he had a few minutes to buy some breath mints and head for the conference room. He was the first to arrive and opened his laptop. Shit. It was Pamela's and he suddenly remembered what he had done to her. The computer was open to her email and there was a message from the home office. He opened it. It was a response to her query. The boss was not interested in housewares.

The door opened and the three businessmen entered. "Where is Miss Edwards," Taro asked.

"Ahh, she is not feeling well and asked me to continue this meeting."

They picked up where they left off. Larry had to break the news that his company was not interested in bedding. Taro was neither surprised nor concerned. He began to talk about pricing, which Larry thought had already been settled. Then he spoke about branding. Larry was desperate to conclude the contract and hurry Pamela out of the country before things got any more complicated, but everything they had agreed upon yesterday was unraveling. Taro excused himself and left Matsaka and Sakuta to carry on. The conversation went around and around for the longest time. The Japanese were clearly dissatisfied. After an hour, Mr. Matsaka's phone rang. He picked it up and listened for a while before speaking only a couple of words and hanging up.

"I think we are done for now," he said to Larry. "We have much to think about." With that, the two negotiators made a quick exit.

Larry sat and tried to figure out what went wrong and why they were so difficult. His impulse was to go to the bar, but he knew he should not drink any more. Instead, he was hungry. He had eaten from room service before so he didn't know where the hotel restaurant was. First, he looked all over the main floor; then he checked the directory. The restaurant was on the top floor. He returned to his room to remove his tie and drop off the computer. He hesitated outside Pamela's room and fingered her key, but decided he wasn't ready to face her.

He sat alone in the restaurant eating an appetizer - the only thing he recognized on the menu.

A man walking across the far end of the room looked familiar. Yes, it was Mr. Sakuta. Larry stood and edged closer, trying not to be seen yet. There were Taro, Mr. Matsaka, and Mr. Sakuta seated around a table with another person hidden behind a planter. Moving for a better view, he was seen by Taro, who motioned for him to come over.

The fourth person at the table was Pamela. They were smiling and relaxed.

Taro spoke. "Come and have a drink. We are celebrating a new partnership."

On the table were copies of the contract, still open to the signature page. Pamela's signature was over her typed name. His name had been crossed out.

It was clear the "party" was nearly over. Larry sat in silence trying to work out what had happened.

When the Japanese had left, he found himself at the table opposite Pamela who dropped her party face and now looked at him with disgust.

"I'm sorry . . . I was drunk. I didn't mean to leave you there. What I really wanted was to make love to you, but I knew that was wrong."

"I'm supposed to be grateful you didn't rape me? Taro Yamazaki came looking for me," she said, blushing slightly as she looked down. "Fortunately, you left the door unlocked."

Larry was confused. "But I told him you were sick. Why . . .?"

"Because he didn't want to work with you. He found you too offensive. Too rude and ignorant of the culture that is hosting you and too uninformed about the contract you are supposed to be negotiating. Did you even read it?"

Larry could say nothing.

"You may as well sit here while I call the police." She took her phone out of her purse.

"You can't do that. I mean you wouldn't. Not here in Japan."

She closed it. "It would mean a trial, which would keep me here perhaps for weeks. I'm not sure you are worth it."

"Please don't. I will try to make it up to you."

She looked at him hard. "Give me my key." He placed it on the table. "And my computer."

"It's in my room."

"First, I want you to write a full confession of what you did and sign it. Right now, right here. I will hold onto that to ensure your good behavior. Don't worry; I'm not into blackmail. Just insurance." She handed him a pen and paper.

He complied. She read it carefully before accepting it.

"Next, before you leave the table, I want you to call the home office and resign your job. Period."

He nodded.

"Three. After you return my computer I don't ever want you to talk to me or about me, see me, call me, or come close enough for me to see you. Ever. If so I will not hesitate to use your confession as I see fit. Is that understood?"

He nodded.

"Four. I am flying out tomorrow morning at 9:00 a.m. Take a different flight."

He nodded.

"Call in your resignation. Then I want my computer on this table in five minutes. After that I never want to see you again."

As he scurried out, she muttered, "Bastard." She picked up her phone and dialed. "Taro? Pamela. . . . Yes, he will be gone by noon. . . . Uh, huh. Pick up where we left off? OK. . . . Right where you found me. . . . 4:00 will be perfect. . . . Yes, I love scarves. . . . See you then." She hung up and leaned back. Her next words were spoken under her breath, to no one in particular. "Being tied up is so hot. Gotta love silk."

Stephen laughed out loud. "Hot?"

"Hot."

"I like that."

"So do I."

"I don't have any silk, but I believe I have some rope."

"I'll get my collar."

"We can start easy."

"We have the whole weekend."