The enticement, p.7
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       The Enticement, p.7

         Part #5 of Submissive series by Tara Sue Me
 

  So proud of you. Love you and can’t wait to hear how the meeting goes.

  I sent him one back. Thank you! You make me feel strong.

  His reply was fast. If you really want to thank me . . .

  You’re insatiable, I wrote back. Talk soon.

  I unfolded the pages in my notebook and wrote one more sentence: He always knows the perfect thing to say to make me feel better.

  I walked to the headquarters for WNN, housed in the larger NNN complex and, I’ll admit, it felt a bit like I was in an alternate universe when I stepped inside and looked around. Never had I thought to be interviewing for anything having to do with such a large corporation. Even though Nathaniel and I had been married for over six years, there were times I still felt awed when surrounded by wealth and power.

  I gave my name and showed my ID to the security guard and stood to the side while I waited for Meagan to come escort me up. I didn’t have long to wait.

  “Abby,” a tall woman with platinum blond hair said, minutes later. “So happy you’re here. I’m Meagan.”

  I shook the hand she offered me and then she led me to a bank of elevators. She chatted as we went up, asking about my family, and we discovered we both had a love of golden retrievers.

  She led me to her office. It was a modern-looking space, done in sleek wood and shiny chrome. Not my preference, but it seemed to match her.

  “Have a seat,” she said with a wave to a chair that looked more like a piece of art than a place to sit.

  She sat in a chair beside me instead of taking her place behind her desk, and a huge smile covered her face. Her hair was super straight and it swung back and forth as she talked. “I am so thrilled you’re here. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “This is going to be wonderful. I just know it!” She held up a hand. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you what I’m thinking. We’d initially like for you to write a series of blog posts for our Web site that’ll match our latest television episode. We’re thinking the post should go up the day before the episode airs. But I think you should do something different for the first post. Really grab everyone’s attention.”

  I had gathered as much from her earlier communications. She talked a bit about content and timeline expectations. It all sounded reasonable.

  “I have a question about privacy,” I said. “Will you be able to keep my name from the public?”

  “Of course, I totally understand the privacy concern. You can keep on being known as the Submissive Wife.”

  That was my biggest concern. In a perfect world, it wouldn’t matter that I was a submissive and that I wore my husband’s collar. Unfortunately, the world wasn’t perfect and people didn’t always treat my sexual preferences with respect.

  And I didn’t even want to think about the kids hearing something.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  She picked up some papers from her desk. “I wrote down a few of the themes of our upcoming episodes: taking charge of your sexuality, sexually mismatched partners, and sex toys. You can take a look and see if you have any questions.”

  “How many posts a week were you thinking?” I took the papers and looked through them. Nothing surprising. Written on each week’s theme were suggested questions: Where do you find reputable information? How do you find like-minded people? That sort of thing.

  “I know the questions look a bit on the boring and tame side.” Mischief danced in her eyes. I was willing to bet she could be trouble if the situation presented itself. “Those were questions the production team thought up. I’m giving you permission to do something else. Besides, I want the first post to pack a real punch. Knock the world on its feet.”

  I looked over the list of topics, and they did look to be on the boring side. “What’s your production team going to say if I don’t take their suggestions about what to write?”

  “Trust me. If the post gets enough hits, they won’t care what it’s about.”

  “I like you,” I said with a tiny laugh.

  “Seriously.” She took the top paper from my hand and started to read. “List of Web sites you recommend for those looking for more information. Really? Or this one, BDSM defined. Not too bad, you could probably work with that and do something.” She flipped to the second page. “Spicing up your sex life. Like that hasn’t been done to death. The horse is dead—leave it alone.”

  She went to the third page and shook her head, not even bothering to read. “What I’m saying, Abby, is make this section of the Web site yours. Don’t feel like you’re limited by these suggestions. We approached you because people love your site and they love it because it’s you. Not a corporation telling you what to do.”

  I liked where she was going with her advice. I didn’t think I could take her up on the offer if the company wasn’t going to give me control of my own content.

  “I’d much rather be able to decide on what to write myself. I don’t know if I can be forced to write something.”

  She handed the papers back to me. “Now, I will say, there are probably a few topics we won’t publish. But in looking over your blog, I haven’t seen you write on any of them, so I think we’re good. If you’re unsure, you can always run the idea by me first.”

  “Thanks. If I decide to write for you, I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll have to think about what I could do for the first post. I don’t particularly like any of these suggestions.” I raised an eyebrow to make sure she was in agreement with me, and at her nod, I continued. “I’d like to do something completely different for the first post. Something, like you said, not necessarily new, but for certain something most people wouldn’t have seen or read.”

  “Yes, keep going.”

  “Something that appeals to the population at large. It has to have a hook to draw them in. And after they finish reading it, they want to come back and read the next post.” I paused, trying to think of something that met that criteria.

  “Sort of like an author who ends a chapter with a cliff-hanger and you can’t put it down, but have to keep going,” she said.

  “Right. Or like when they end the entire book on a cliffhanger.”

  “Exactly like that. I have a love/hate relationship with those types of books.”

  “You know, I was a librarian before I had my second child and stayed at home.”

  She leaned forward, all curious like. “No, I had no idea.”

  “That’s what I was doing when I first became a submissive for the man who would be my husband.”

  “Interesting. There might be something there. The librarian with a kinky side. Or something about the quiet type. Maybe how you can’t judge people.”

  “I feel like I need to write these down. These are great suggestions.” I especially liked the one about judging people. I often found myself doing that, even with those in the lifestyle. Not as much now as I had years ago, though. And though I tried not to assume anything about people’s sex lives, something about Meagan made me think she had experience in the BDSM lifestyle. “One thing I have to remind myself is that even if you know someone’s kinky, you can’t automatically tell which role they fall into.”

  “Abby, I have a feeling you are the perfect person for this position. I sincerely hope you give serious thought to accepting it.”

  * * *

  I sent Nathaniel a text as soon as the meeting was over and I was in a cab headed back to the penthouse we owned in the city.

  Meeting went great. Will tell you all about it when you get home.

  His reply was immediate.

  So glad to hear. Have been thinking about you all day. Can’t wait to hear the details.

  I smiled and typed back a quick “Love you” before calling Elaina to see how the kids were doing. Nathaniel wouldn’t be off work for another three hours, so to help pass time until we left for the estate, I got out a notebook and pen and began to brainstorm on possible topics for the first post.

/>   I’d jotted down only a page of notes when the sound of the door opening caught me by surprise. I stood up. Housekeeping wasn’t due until the next day and the building manager would have sent either Nathaniel or me a note before using his master key to enter.

  I broke into a silly grin when Nathaniel walked into the room.

  “Hey,” he said, wearing his own silly grin.

  “You’re early,” I said, walking over to him. “I wasn’t expecting you for another few hours.”

  “Like I could work without knowing how your meeting went.” He dropped his briefcase and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “So, tell me the details.”

  “Mmm.” I reached up and slipped my hands under the lapels of his suit jacket. I pushed it up and off his shoulders. He shrugged out of it and when it fell to the floor, I said, “You’re looking at the latest employee of WNN.”

  A huge grin covered his face and he pulled me into a tight embrace. “Of course they love you. They’d be crazy not to.”

  “It wasn’t just me. They really liked my writing.”

  “It’s a package deal. They go together.”

  “Come here,” I said, taking his hand and leading him to the couch. “I’ll tell you all about it.”

  We sat on the couch for hours, he on one side and I on the other with my feet in his lap, and just talked. I told him all about the meeting and how I was brainstorming ideas for the first post. He was always a good person to bounce things off of.

  He started a sensual massage of my feet while I explained the details of the position and how things would work. When I’d finally told him everything, he grew serious.

  “I’m proud of you, Abby. I think this is going to be a wonderful opportunity for you.”

  “Thank you. I’m really excited about it.”

  “As you should be.”

  I took my feet from his lap and shifted so I was beside him. “How long do we have until we have to leave?”

  He slipped an arm around my shoulders. “Todd was going by the estate when he got off work, so another hour or two.”

  “I have an idea on how we could spend that time,” I murmured, drawing close to him.

  His hands entwined in my hair and his breath was warm against my skin. “Come here and tell me all about it.”

  “There’s a phrase writers use.” I traced the button on the top of his shirt, circled it a few times before unbuttoning it. “‘It’s better to show, not tell.’”

  His breath caught as I continued undoing his shirt. “I think I’m going to like your new job.”

  * * *

  Hours later, we were at home and the kids were in bed. Nathaniel asked me if I wanted to go for a swim since I didn’t head for bed like I typically did, but I told him I needed to get my thoughts together for my first post and do his required meditation. I didn’t plan to write it yet, but all evening my fingers had been itching to get something down on paper.

  I took a blank journal and curled up in the library on a couch with Apollo at my feet. I wrote down a few things, planning to later look over all the ideas and decide which one I wanted to do first.

  My phone buzzed and I looked down in surprise to see it was Christine, the wife and submissive of the man who had mentored Nathaniel.

  “Hey, Christine.”

  “Abby! It’s been ages! How are you?”

  In the early part of my relationship with Nathaniel, he’d taken me to Paul and Christine’s house in New Hampshire for a weekend. Though we had been in a power exchange relationship for months, that weekend had been the first time I’d ever seen anyone else play. It had been an eye-opening experience for me in many ways.

  One of the things I’d taken away from the weekend was the knowledge that I wanted to mentor new submissives. Now, as I chatted with her on the phone and we caught up with each other, I realized that the blog would be another way for me to mentor.

  I told her as much.

  “It sounds like a wonderful opportunity,” she said. “I think it’s important to show the public what BDSM is and what it’s not.”

  “I hope I can do that.”

  “There was a case here recently where a submissive was stalked and later assaulted as she left a club one evening.” There was a rustling of papers. “I printed out the newspaper article on it because she came to one of our meetings about a year ago.”

  I vaguely remembered Nathaniel mentioning the incident. But I never heard what happened.

  “Here it is,” Christine said. “They didn’t find the man who did it. The sad thing is the way the media painted the woman. They twisted it so much, it came out sounding like the woman had asked for it.”

  Nathaniel hadn’t told me that part. “That’s horrible. That poor woman.”

  “Assault is never justified, but to hear some people, it wasn’t that bad because she was kinky.”

  “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

  “Right? That’s what Paul and I said. We had a group discussion about it.”

  “Let me get my hands on the person who said that.”

  She laughed, but with a touch of sadness. “How about instead you get your hands on a keyboard and work on fighting the battle that way.”

  “Kind of like the mighty keyboard instead of the pen?”

  “Exactly. If you can educate just one person, then maybe that person will tell someone else and they’ll tell another person and before you know it there won’t be any more stories like that one in the newspaper.”

  “The sad thing is, some of the public might see the assailant as what a Dom is like,” I said. “When I worked at the library, I once overheard a group of women talking about BDSM. Two of the ladies were trying to explain the difference between BDSM and abuse. It was so hard not to jump in and give my opinion. After all, that was the first time I’d ever come across a group talking about BDSM in my library.”

  “Yeah, that must have been strange. But now look at the great opportunity you have to educate so many people.” Her voice dropped a notch. “And I can’t wait to brag to my friends about the famous writer I knew back when she was a novice submissive.”

  “Blogger,” I corrected. “I wouldn’t say I’m a writer yet. I’m a blogger.”

  “Semantics, Abby.” I pictured her rolling her eyes at me. “It doesn’t matter what you call it.”

  We talked a few more minutes before saying our good-byes. By that time, Nathaniel had made it back in the house, having decided to swim by himself. He came into the library and shook his head at me, showering me with water droplets from his hair.

  I shrieked and held my hands up. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting your clothes wet so you have to take them off.”

  I brushed the water drops off my arm. “There are better ways to go about getting me naked.”

  “But this was more fun.”

  I loved seeing him so lighthearted and playful. Almost made up for him getting me wet.

  “I’m going to get you back,” I threatened, trying to think up something evil and mean I could do to him in return.

  “I look forward to it,” he said with a wicked grin.

  “Well,” I said, standing up. “You’ll have to wait. I still have the thirty-minute meditation you assigned me.”

  His grin fell. “Damn. I didn’t expect that to bite me in the ass.”

  It wasn’t the first time I wanted him to bend a rule or tell me I didn’t have to do something he’d commanded. And just like all the other times, I knew he wouldn’t change his mind about my assignment. So I gave him a quick kiss and headed upstairs.

  Chapter Six

  Three weeks later, Meagan called the Friday morning after my first piece went up.

  “Abby!” she nearly yelled and I held the phone away from my ear. “You won’t believe it! It’s fabulous!”

  “The post generated a lot of hits?” I guessed.

 
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