Thesis

Chapter 1:   Board Meeting

Two people are in two offices, a hundred miles apart. By coincidence they are both looking at the same page of the same magazine.

Larry Ross, thirty five years old with sandy hair that just might be starting to thin at the back and a waist that is just a bit thicker than he would like, is one of them. Until recently Marketing Director of Clegg Enterprises Special Products Division, Larry has been given a new job by Clegg and a new challenge, too.

The other is Jenny McEwan, a post graduate student and researcher at a university in the English Midlands.

The magazine is Second Skin, a glossy BDSM and fetish scene magazine.  The page they are looking at carries an advertisement placed by a business called “Inward Bound”.

They may be looking at the same thing, but they each have very different interests. Jenny is studying it closely. She is telling herself that her interest is academic, but that might not be the whole story. Larry, on the other hand, already knows about Inward Bound; when he first heard about it he was so impressed he recommended that Clegg Enterprises buy the company.

Jenny is remembering times when a new issue of Second Skin was the thing she looked forward to most of all.  She recalls how she and her lover used to read it together in bed using its fetish imagery and kinky articles as a springboard for their own imaginations. It is a pleasant memory, but right now that’s the problem: it’s only memory. She goes on looking at the advertisement. She is going to discuss it with her PhD supervisor, Professor Dawney, later. She is suspicious of Dawney’s motives for suggesting that Jenny look at the advert. She is determined that she won’t end up in bed with the Prof again. Not this time.

Larry is sitting at an empty desk in an empty office in an empty building. It’s the first day in his new job; his first day as managing director; the first day of the new business venture that Clegg has set up. He takes one last look at the magazine and then puts it to one side.

He allows himself a few moments to savour the luxury of an empty diary, an empty filing cabinet and nothing more than the ideas in his head and an open-ended directive from his boss as the starting point for what needs to be done.

The directive was Clegg’s quiet, “Just get things started, Larry. Go talk to the people in Huntingdon. See how you can move things along.” It is a change for Larry; but it is a change for Clegg too. He isn’t used to letting somebody else run things. It’s obvious that neither of them will find the change easy to deal with.

For Larry it is definitely a promotion. Today he is starting on “Project Willing”, the result of ideas that he himself had proposed to Clegg. They aim to take over “Inward Bound”, a business that specialises in giving submissives a chance to experience consensual slavery. Larry isn’t sure which is going to be the bigger challenge, doing the job, keeping Clegg happy or keeping the business legitimate!

He is, however, sure about one thing. The whole enterprise is going to work better with a cup of coffee but, with no kettle, no coffee machine, no coffee, no milk, no secretary it will have to be Starbucks, he thinks.

There’s so much to do to even get the basics in place. He stands up, runs his hands though his hair and looks out of the window. Unsurprisingly, he can see the green and black sign over a shop front less than fifty yards away. He looks down at his waist line. He promises himself that he’ll have a low fat muffin this time. He knows he’s lying to himself.

He is half way to the door when the phone rings.  “Ha! Interruptions!” Larry thinks, “That’s good. I must be getting somewhere already. You always get interruptions as soon as you start doing something important.”

He picks it up. “It’s Larry.”

“Hi, Larry.” He recognises the voice at the other end. “It’s Sarah,” she says. “I’ve just had a message from Mr. Clegg. He wants you for a special board meeting at 10:00.”

“Did Freddie say what it’s about?”

“No, Sir, but I sort of had the impression that he has something on his mind. He was, er, very definite if you know what I mean.”

“Thanks Sarah. I know what you mean. I’ll be there.” Larry looks at his watch. It will only take him fifteen minutes to get over to the Brick Lane offices.

Larry puts down the phone. With an empty desk and an empty diary there doesn’t seem like there’s much preparation he can do. He was going to call the people in Huntingdon they were planning to take over. That was going to be the starting point for “Project Willing”. But now, well it’s probably best to wait until after the board meeting. He looks at his watch. 9:30. Larry thinks, “I might as well walk round. It’ll be better for me than the coffee anyway.”

The Brick Lane office has a seedy, unkempt air. It is set on the edge of the City in a 1950s block of dirty brick, peeling paintwork and metal windows. The building has an anonymous, non-descript feeling to it that suits Clegg perfectly. He doesn’t much care for ostentation. At least not in his business dealings.

At 10:00, Larry makes his way up to Clegg's office.

The room is comfortable rather than luxurious, but then Clegg's preferred business forum is his club or the restaurant alongside it rather than the Whitechapel offices. Sometimes, though, he needs an office base, and this is it.

Clegg's management style is usually pretty 'hands on'. He finds it hard to delegate. Worse still, he finds it hard not get involved with the detail. Larry remembers stories of how Freddie insisted on taking part in ‘operations’ sometimes.  He isn't surprised that Freddie is looking to involve himself even at this early stage. He had hoped he was going to get through his first day without it, though.

It's not as though he's even keen on meetings,” Larry thought to himself. “He’s never been strong on the formal ‘running the business’ stuff.” As a result, Larry is surprised to see the room almost full. There’s even one of the secretaries there to take minutes. Larry is astonished. Freddie doesn’t usually go in for taking minutes.

Larry looks around the room. It’s not quite the usual suspects. Freddie is there, of course, and Elly (his business and, everyone assumes, personal partner) in her role as group legal adviser. Pamela Jordan, the group’s medical adviser, and Connie Mbazu, recently appointed as head of training, are both there, too.. There are maybe a half a dozen others lurking at the back. Given that the office isn’t much bigger than a table that has room for eight, it’s pretty crowded.

Clegg smiles and waves Larry to the one remaining chair. “Hello Larry, glad you could come. I just thought it would be good if we all had a chat before you got yourself stuck into things with ‘Project Willing’. Give us all a chance to make sure that things go in the right direction. No treading on toes. No dead ends. You know.”

Larry nods. He knows. He knows exactly. What this says is that Freddie’s changing his mind about things.

“The thing is,” Elly cuts in, “Freddie’s has been re-reading your business plan and looking at the due diligence from the ‘Project Willing’ acquisition. We’re wondering if maybe the “consensual” division might be more important for the future of the Group than we thought at first.”

Elly had always struck Larry as dangerous. She is an attractive woman, her hair jet-black and curly and usually, as today, combed back from her forehead. Her eyes are piercingly blue. Larry always felt there was much more going on in her head than she ever spoke out loud. On their previous encounters, she’d given him a fair hearing and when she’d agreed to support him, she’d always delivered. She is wearing a smart, fitted, white blouse, a black leather skirt, black tights and riding boots. Her outfit tells you she’s a powerful woman, a woman that means business, and one that doesn’t mind your knowing it.

“Yes,” Freddie continues. “We have to have an eye to the social and political context we are operating in.”

Larry is immediately worried. ‘Context’ is a word he doesn’t normally associate with Freddie. It means that he’s been talking to people. That is invariably a bad idea from Larry’s perspective.

“The thing is, Larry,” Elly chips in, “that our business risk is gradually increasing whilst the fees we can charge clients can’t rise in step.”

“You see,” it was Connie now, “your marketing efforts increased demand significantly and that has created a problem. Shipping. The business now has a far bigger export market than our home market. Now we have to ship across international borders ….”

“Well,” says Larry. “None of this is news to me. This is all stuff we looked at in the marketing plan, way back. I don’t want to be unhelpful, but what’s this got to do with my business? If I start by trying to solve the problems of your side of the business, I’ll never get it started.”

“Sure, Larry. Sorry.” Clegg sounds almost apologetic. “Let’s slow things down folks. Larry’s right; we don’t want to get things confused. Let me just explain the problem though. The problem as I see it is,” Clegg looked around as if defying any of the others to interrupt him again, “, one of transport. The police and customs are now very interested indeed in the illicit movement of people.  Their primary interest is in terrorist operations, but they’re very aware that a lot of illegal immigration and drug trafficking is involved with people trafficking, bringing in sex workers. And, that’s how our slaves are seen.”

“And,” Elly came in again. Clegg shuts his eyes. “While our usual measures serve to keep most of the law enforcement people on-side most of the time, we have to sweeten more people and that’s expensive.”

“Elly,” Clegg interrupted with barely concealed impatience. “And, of course, when Tricia was discovered all crated up and en route to Moscow. Well, let’s just say it didn’t help.  We’re going to have the problem of shipping for some time to come. Unless we take a radical look at the problem.”

Larry is feeling increasingly impatient. “And, this radical look relates to my business in some way?”

Freddie nods and looks to Elly. “Do you want to cover this?”

“Sure,” she says with a smile. Freddie sits back in his chair, his hands folded across his stomach. “So Larry,” Elly continues. “We were thinking that if ‘Project Willing’ could find people who wanted to be slaves, they would cross borders willingly as legitimate travellers to their new owners. That would avoid a  lot of problems, not to mention a  transport cost. I’m thinking we could get to having no real involvement in shipping beyond maybe organising their tickets.”

“Erm, well,” replies Larry. He’s irritated that everyone wants to jump on his wagon. “Well, I’m glad you all feel that this is going to be more than a side show, but a couple of things. As of today, right now, this moment, we do not have an operation in this space – there are a few ideas in my head and the possibility of taking over this new business. So, maybe I can get on with that?.”

Dr Jordan joined in for the first time. “I think you might be missing a point here. There will be people who contact you for an adventure holiday of consensual slave training. During their training, some of them are going to find that the lifestyle is something they would like to continue for an extended period of time. Then who knows? Maybe even 24/7/365 and on into their indeterminate future.”

“What we think we could be looking at, Larry,” Connie continues, “is a complete revolution in the slavery business, with a substantial proportion of slaves in harness because they want to be. They’ll and are prepared to approach us for contracts after their training. In fact, if we train them properly, the physical and psychological changes they experience will lead them to the point where that sort of request is more than likely and …”

“Of course,” Elly takes up the thread, “we would have to negotiate honorariums, health insurance and pension contributions on their behalf with their owners, sorry  - our clients, as part of the package …….”

Larry is trying to keep his irritation under control. He hasn't even got this thing started and the rest of the organisation is already trying to hijack it. He is about to lose his cool when Freddie cuts in.

“But in short, Larry,” Freddie leans forward trying to reassert some control, at one time pleased and frustrated by the way that everyone has been pitching in. “If I can just sum things up.” He looks around the room. The others at the table get the message and sit back. “I think -  we all think - that this project is important for our future. . If there is going to be a growth in consensual slavery, it will affect businesses like us that focus on the non-consensual kind. This company we're acquiring has got facilities and they've got know-how that we can take advantage of.  So, Larry, old man, I want to see how quickly you can get them integrated into the group and how soon we can learn the lessons we need to from them. I am going to give this a fairly high priority. Everyone here is really committed to giving you any help that you need.”

“So, no pressure then?” asks Larry.

“No,” smiles Elly. “No pressure at all! We all have complete confidence in you!”

Larry is used to them behaving like this. He knows how to deal with it. “In which case,” he says, looking around the table and smiling back at Elly in the quiet way he uses to re-assert control. “Perhaps you can let me have your feedback on the contracts that the Huntingdon business is using, Elly. And, Connie, you might like to let me know what your people thought of the site that the Project Willing business is using for their ‘experience’ sessions and when you’re going to finish with Sukie and Rachel, so I can have them as was promised? And, Dr. Jordan, you could update me on the psychological profiling you were doing on their training people. Now that we’re all working as a team. So to speak.” He smiles at the others, happy that he’s made his point.

Clegg chuckles as the others mutter their agreement and start to gather up their papers. He turns to Larry and throws his hands up in mock surrender. “All right,” he says, “you don’t have to ask me. I’ll get the CFO to finish his financial review on the ‘Project Willing’ business as well. Like I said, let’s get on with it.” 

While Larry is dealing with the machinations of corporate office politics, Jenny is on her own. She is in the room she shares with three researchers at the university, thumbing through Second Skin. She is looking at the photographs of fetish club events and wondering if she could persuade her husband that they should go to one. She remembers how much fun she had when she went with one of her girl friends, way back in her student days. The only problem had been that others there had got her wrong. Most of the men had thought she was a dominant. It was being quite tall and slim, she supposed. Or maybe it was just the rubber cat suit she was wearing. That and wishful thinking.

She smiles and pushes a strand of her shoulder length, dark brown wavy hair back from her face. She remembers the man that had tried to buy her a drink at the bar. He had taken the drink from the barman and got down on his knees to offer it up to her. It was one of the more original chat up routines she had come across, even if it hadn’t worked.

She smiles again,

Jenny smiles easily. When she does so, her eyes open giving her a wide-awake look. She opens her mouth a little wider than might be thought polite, showing even white teeth and a touch of gum beneath her upper lip.

Her research colleagues think of her as cheerful, open, and straight forward. Jenny puts that down to her determined chin and the way that her nose tips up. Occasionally though, as her colleagues would tell you, she can seem a bit naïve and a bit of a romantic. Jenny doesn’t have an excuse for that.

She turns the page. There’s an article on how a corset fetishist has combined her enthusiasms with the philosophies from Laura Doyle’s book, the Surrendered Wife. Jenny knows she’s supposed to be thinking about her research programme and she’s pretending to herself that this might have something to do with it. When the article moves on to describing the erotic combination of tight lacing and submissive demeanour, Jenny’s hands stray to the crotch of her jeans. She’s fondling herself; looking at a dramatically lit, black and white photograph of a kneeling, corseted, woman. She hears someone in the corridor outside. She gives a strangled cough and drops the magazine. She manages to slide the issue of Second Skin under the latest copy of the Journal of Behavioural and Cognitive Psychotherapy as one of her colleagues comes in. 

Chapter 2:   Acquisitions

“I'm puzzled, Mr. Ross.” Corinne Aimes, the founder and owner of two companies, Huntingdon Management Development Limited and Inward Bound, is talking amiably with Larry Ross, a man who claims he can inject a substantial cash investment into her business. They are sitting in the garden of a Cambridgeshire pub. Corinne is drinking white wine. Larry is enjoying a pint of bitter.

“So your business, Clegg Enterprises Group, specialises in recruitment and placement,” says Corinne. “Sort of head-hunters?”

Larry nods. Corinne is right, although not in the way she thinks. Larry is impressed by Corinne. She’s smartly dressed, dark wavy hair worn short of her shoulders and a dark, almost middle-eastern complexion. Her eyes are fringed with long dark lashes and her features are soft. Although she might be easy to look at, she has obviously got a determined streak when it comes to business negotiation. She’s sitting there looking every inch the successful young business woman. She’s wearing a sober suit with dark grey jacket and trousers, black ankle boots and a black high-necked blouse. Around her neck she’s wearing a heavy silver necklace. It’s not obvious at first but looking at the design Larry sees that it’s formed from two intertwined keys. It makes a subtle and stylish statement about Corinne’s interest in the world of BDSM.

“I guess there is a sort of fit with our main business,” Corinne says. “and I suppose I can see why you’d be interested. Recruitment and placement on your side, training and motivation on ours.”

 

“Exactly,” Larry responds disingenuously. “The Group Chairman has something of a background in the training and motivation business. He's been looking to invest in those areas. Sees them as a sector that is likely to grow. Building the knowledge economy. Competing on a global scale. That sort of thing. And then, there's your rather unique sideline....”

“I'd have thought that would be enough to put most people off. There's not usually much enthusiasm for companies to get involved with businesses which the general public might see as racy, to say the least.”

“Our chairman is a broader minded man than that. And longer sighted. He’s interested in looking at leisure markets, too.”

“Well Inward Bound certainly falls into that category by my definition. Though I’m not sure if some of my guests right now would think that what they are enjoying was a ‘leisure’ activity.” Corinne toys with her necklace and glances across to her car. “Your interest in that side of the business still seems odd to me.”

Larry watches her, wondering for a moment if she has one of her clients in the boot of her Jaguar. He realises that the rather cool and conservative looking Corinne might just have decided to amuse herself by bringing a customer along on this outing. He finds the thought an arousing one but reluctantly drags himself back to the problem at hand. Larry seeks to reassure her. “Let's just say he understands people and he understands how businesses can make money out of dealing with people. If I'm honest, I suspect he's a bit curious about the whole consensual BDSM sexuality thing.”

“Well, it's a common enough turn-on, you should tell him. Otherwise this particular business would have no foundation.”

Larry thinks wryly, it's not the BDSM thing that's puzzling him, it's the consensual thing. He lets it go. “So, tell me how you set it up; the Inward Bound side, I mean. The corporate training and motivation I think I understand from the papers you sent through.”

Corinne sits back. “Well,” she says, “I'd just finished my degree in educational psychology. I was finding it hard to get work. I had a few short-term contracts on research projects. Then the Uni set up the science park and there were a whole string of little businesses springing up as the faculty tried to find ways to make their research “relevant” or at least get paid twice for their work. Most of them knew next to nothing about business. Truth be told, neither did I,  but the first rule of education is that if you've read one more book than your student you'll be OK, so that was where I managed to set up Huntingdon Management Development.”

“But the other side of the business?”

“I was coming to that. When I'd been in my last year at Uni and cash was short, I made a little extra with the odd bit of paid dominance. There are plenty of opportunities for it around a university town. BDSM is the thinking person's sex, after all. And, one of my clients from then turned up as a client for the training business. He teased me a bit about it, which was fair enough I guess;  Said that he hoped my courses weren't as painful as my sessions had been; suggested that students would pay more attention if I taught class in a gown and mortar board. That sort of thing. Laugh a minute – you can imagine.

“Anyway, I was at a theme park the following weekend; ...on one of those scary rides that throw you around the sky until you're not sure if you're going to get to the end before your breakfast. And, I thought, why isn't there a theme park for adults? A sort of BDSM Centre Parcs. I looked around in the UK and there are a few places that offer accommodation – bed, breakfast and bondage, that sort of thing. There didn't seem to be anyone trying for anything more ambitious; something that would be a real experience for those taking part. I guess the place that really fascinated me was the Other World Kingdom, but that's in the Czech Republic – I thought there was bound to be an opportunity for something closer to home. Well, it wasn't too difficult to see that I could rework some of our training centre accommodation. I had a few contacts from my Mistress Whiplash days and some of the boys and girls in the legitimate side of the business weren't averse to making some extra money. It sort of took off from there.”

“The Other World Kingdom caters mainly for men though doesn't it. Your 'Mistress Whiplash' clients must have been mainly male too, I'm guessing.” Corinne nods and gives him a half smile that seems to suggest that if Larry wanted to try that side of things out she wouldn’t mind obliging. Larry avoids the thought. The only time he’s been tied up by a woman it wasn’t at all pleasant. “How come you ended up with something that seems to appeal mainly to women?”

Corinne shrugged. “I'm not sure. We didn't plan it that way. I'd like to pretend it was all part of some grand strategy, but it wasn't. We started off offering a 'kidnap & hostage' experience. You know the sort of thing, the 'victim' agrees to an approximate time and duration, we snatch them, take them to some unknown destination, keep them captive and then eventually release them. Virtually all the takers were women. Either that, or it was boyfriends giving their girlfriends a treat.”

“And customers liked it?”

“Oh yes. It's a common fantasy and we did a good job, if I say so myself. Some of the team got quite adept at snatching the customers and bundling them into the back of a van or the boot of a car. Others turned out to be really good at the surly guard part. You wouldn't realise what a level of skill there is in it!”

“I guess you're right.” Larry is thinking that some of his colleagues back at the office might well agree with her.  

“We built up a range of different offerings and we managed to find a few different places to keep our customers. Somebody had a house with a cellar; someone else knew a derelict farm with some outbuildings. We even used one of the old supply stores at the University for one client. Anyway, word got around. It's like any other business – personal recommendation is the best source of new customers, but it does tend to turn up customers like the ones you already have. Then, one of our clients had a fantasy that involved her being held prisoner for a couple of weeks. One of the 'guards' thought that while she was there, they could put her through a sort of slave training programme. Afterwards, the client asked us to set up something similar for herself and three friends and things grew from that. We don't advertise much. There seems to be a captive market, if you'll pardon the expression. ”

“And now?” Larry is happy for Corinne to go on talking.

“Well, we've adapted some parts of the site in Suffolk. We alternate the use between Inward Bound and the Corporate Training events. We bought the site using business start up grants. Inward Bound runs five courses a year, each of one month - although we're thinking of increasing that- with five participants. Five is all we can manage at present. We charge £6000 for a month's course - which isn’t that expensive when you think about it, compared to a cruise, say.  Also, the Inward Bound clients help to get the Centre ready for the next Corporate Training course, which provides our Inward Bound clients with work to do and reduces costs in our vanilla business. Inward Bound currently grosses around £150,000 a year give or take. Costs are negligible, as I’ve explained, and even the staff costs aren't high. Quite a few of the staff have a stake in the business. All right the business is certainly not as big as it could be, or as profitable. On the other hand, growing it would take a lot of time and effort. The thing is, Larry, this business is doing all right. I'm not even sure what we'd do with an injection of cash from your organisation, except maybe to let us handle more participants in each course.” She looks at her watch again.

“Do you need to get back?” Larry asks.

“No it’s fine. I do have another appointment.” She looks across at the car again. Larry is more than ever convinced that somewhere, either in the back of the car or wherever she’s going, there’s someone that’s waiting helplessly for her. “But nothing that won’t keep safe until we’ve finished.”

Larry is happy to continue. “You talked about both operations in the same breath: tell me about the team you have. Do you have staff from one business in the other, for example?”

“Yes, we do. As it happens all of the core team from HMD help out with Inward Bound. I mean, both are pretty small operations and its not as if we are operating in different countries or anything like that.”

No, just on different planets, from the point of view of the clients, thinks Larry. But he lets Corinne carry on.

“Actually you do not need many people to run a training business and there are three of us: me Charlotte and Josephine. We were friends at university and had a shared BDSM Interest. We have all put cash into the business.  We’ve all made contacts in the Scene that have been helpful. I suppose I’m spending more time on IWB because that’s …ah… more labour intensive, so to speak.” There’s another glance across to the car. “There’s Gerry. He’s an architect and that’s been really useful to help with pulling our HQ into shape and then there’s Celia, George Jonathan and Ylena who all have their own jobs too but come to provide specialist input when we are running an IWB course. Then some of the alumni from previous courses who live reasonably locally can also help out.”

“So, are all your colleagues on the payroll?”

“No, not really. At this stage we are not generating enough cash and quite a few of the Team have their own mainstream careers, as I mentioned but we are now at the stage were we can pay everyone’s expenses, although most of the profits get ploughed back into the business as investment for the future. I think this works because we all really enjoy what we do and participation is part of the reward we get. However, enjoying your job doesn’t pay bills and we have to be hard headed about this.”

Larry looks at the cool, confident, young woman he has been talking to. It’s hard to believe that she would be anything other than hard headed when it comes to her business. On the other hand, the suspicion that she’s enjoying the discomfort of someone, somewhere, is enough to convince Larry that Inward Bound is a labour of love as much as a money making enterprise.

“Well Corinne, regarding our investment; we'd like to work with you to discover what the opportunities are. Maybe the Suffolk site could benefit from additional capital investment? Maybe you could find ways to take more participants on a course? Maybe you could offer different styles of programme? Or a two month experience? Perhaps if you weren't dependent on the corporate side of the business, you'd have more time to develop this? Let's get some of our people working with your people. We ought to set up a visit to the Suffolk facility. Our chairman is very keen on a collaborative approach.” Larry was almost surprised at himself for his last remark. Actually, his experience of Freddie was that his view of teamwork was a lot of people doing what he said.

“Well,” says Corinne. “I agree it's worth talking. I’d like to understand more about your business too, if we’re going to work out how to best work together. And anyway, I’d want to know where the money’s coming from. You’ll forgive me if I’m careful - In my experience potential investors don’t come wandering in off the street every day of the week. And, frankly, I’m surprised that you are as interested as you are in the Inward Bound side.”

“Perfectly reasonable,” Larry responds. “Let me see if I can reassure you. We’ve spent time working at it, getting our management strategy and procedures right. It’s also one of the reasons why we’re looking for a UK business to invest in. Get some of our eggs out of the international basket, to diversify so to speak. If I’m honest I think our chairman has been involved in some businesses on the ‘leisure’ side of things in the past – video production, fetish photo web sites, that sort of thing. I think he sees us working with you as a way of getting back into an area of business he always enjoyed.”

Corrine feels reassured. “OK, I can understand that, I would like to be less dependent on the corporate side, if I'm honest. This side of things is a whole lot more fun and the cash flow is a whole lot better. I get so tired of trying to screw payment out of some of the corporate clients.”

“Well, that's just the sort of area we could help with in the short-term. We could take over your debt collection.” Larry wasn't sure how well Freddie's debt collection techniques would work in the corporate world, but the important thing now was to get Corinne on side.

“Aha,” says Corinne. “Yeah. Well, maybe I have been distracted from the stuff I want to do by the things I need to do. If this relationship lets me change that, it might be a good idea after all. Look I agree. Get some of your people to come up to visit the Suffolk site. You’ll get a better feel for how we do things and I expect we will both get a better idea of whether our businesses would be a good fit for each other.” 

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” says Larry. At least that way we get to keep on talking, he thinks.

Talking is something that Jenny isn’t doing. She’s sitting at the end of her bed, her dressing gown pulled tight around her shoulders. Her husband is sitting on the bed at the other end, staring out of the window. Jenny is staring at her feet. It hasn’t been a very successful evening. Jenny had tried to talk about some of the things she thought might make their love making more fun. Her husband hadn’t been very receptive. Sure, he understood what it was that she liked and no, he didn’t thing there was anything wrong about it. The problem was that either he didn’t want to act out any of it or that he didn’t think it would work and in any case he didn’t want to talk about it.

Jenny’s fantasies revolve around dark, silent, strangers and dark silent deeds. And, in the past, there had been more than fantasies. But, Jenny felt, silence wasn’t really what was needed right now. What was needed right now was a good hard fuck. She just wanted him to hold her, tell it would all be OK some way and then throw her back on the bed and fuck her. But she didn’t say anything and Joe kept staring out of the window.

Chapter 3:   Fond Farewell

About six months later, Jenny McEwan finally gets to start writing up the notes she will use as the foundation of the research proposal that she hopes will eventually lead to her doctoral thesis.

Jenny’s Recollections

I watch as Joe tosses his case into the back of the taxi. He turns back towards the house for a moment and waves before getting in. We’ve been together three years now and I’ve found the partings getting harder and harder. It’s difficult too know which is worse; the going away or the coming back again. The closer we get to his going away, the more I feel like I'm walking on egg shells when it comes to anything about us. 

Well, maybe it’s the work. This time he’s going to Cambodia, north of Phnom Penh, working with the Vietnamese, helping the Cambodians to upgrade the water supply network there, Joe says. He’s only to be away two weeks this time, but the trip after this will be for almost three months.  I’m quite proud of him really. It’s sort of heroic, I guess. At least, I say to myself, I’ve got something to think about while he’s not here, on top of what I want our relationship to be, whether it is going where I want it to go. Assuming I know.

Maybe I’m just trying for too much. Most of the time we bump along quite happily, but I think we’re missing out on something. Joe is a loving guy but, well, sometimes it seems like he’s happy to let things just drift along. I like to have time to chill out and relax, but I just feel there ought to be more to it than that. When we got together I guess his steadiness and the quiet, determined, way he approached life were some of the things that attracted me to him. Now, I'd just like to see a bit of passion about something sometimes. Especially about me.  

There’s always plenty to think about outside of home. My job at the University is demanding, but I think I am good at it. I graduated six years ago. I’m working as a researcher in the department of psychology and I feel I am making good progress towards my doctorate. The only problem there is Professor Dawney and that’s my own fault.

The two of us had a short, tempestuous, affair while I was working for my master’s degree.  I’ve always had an interest in the BDSM lifestyle - well more than an interest I guess, if I’m honest - and we met by chance at a munch. We discovered that it was a passion that we both shared. The professor and I found that our drives fitted neatly one with the other; me submissive, Professor Dawney very much the dominant partner. Subsequently, we managed to run our relationship without upsetting the university. It was hardly the first time that an academic had got involved with a student and besides Dawney wasn’t one of my tutors.

Then, two things happened. I finished my master’s and got a junior teaching post at the university. Shortly after, I met Joe McEwan and found myself swept up in a romantic dream of a future life with him, even if things aren’t looking like turning out that way right now. That was when I told Dawney that I couldn’t go on with our relationship.

The professor seemed to understand – eventually.

When Joe and I started our life together it was fine at first. Well it still is. Fine, that is. It’s just that I’d like it to be better, more than just ‘fine’. Maybe part of the problem for me is that he gets really closed off before he goes away on one of his trips. It’s like he feels he’s already on his way and doesn’t want to be confused with stuff from around home. That hurts, because I really want to have a close and loving goodbye each time Joe goes away. 

Also, we never really found a way to make the BDSM thing work between us. He seemed – well - diffident about it. And, when I tried to raise it he’d back away, saying it wasn’t “appropriate” - whatever that meant. It wasn’t that he disapproved; he enjoyed the tales I used to tell him of some of my more outrageous escapades from before we met.

One of my boyfriends was keen on fetish clubs and we used to go together. It felt great to be dressed all in rubber and led in chains into a room to sit at his feet all evening. Then there was the time a girl friend and I had decided to go to a fancy dress party as a sheikh and a harem slave. It had seemed like a great idea but she’d got hold of some slave manacles that she could lock on me. The bitch left me behind in our flat while she had a great time at the party with the guy I’d been planning to hit on. Then, when she got back, she left me chained up while she bonked the guy senseless in the next room. By the time he left, I was so hot for it that we just fell on each other. There were a few more times like that. Somehow it was always me that ended up in rope or handcuffs or straps. But, then, that was how I liked it.

Joe found the tales a turn on all right. But they didn’t make him want to try any of it.

I guess it seemed more that he felt it wasn’t right for him, or for him and me. But it didn't matter. Or, at least I told myself it didn't matter.

I guess that's why I didn't back away from Dawney's suggestion – even though maybe I should have. Joe always seems pleased to get home and sorry to leave, but in between? I very much needed to keep myself busy.

Dawney encouraged me into pursuing a PhD and helped me choose a research area. I shouldn’t have agreed to take on something that was so close to Dawney’s own area, but I needed a supervisor and the professor had always been very supportive. Now though, things were getting difficult and it was becoming worse as a result of the direction my research was taking. When Dawney suggested the topic, I should have recognised the problems that could arise, especially the fact that it was bound to venture into areas where Dawney was considered the authority. But, I didn’t.

The basic idea was to explore the relationship between stress and play; analysing the role that play has in reducing stress. I thought it presented an exciting research opportunity. It was only as the work progressed, that I started to feel that Dawney hadn’t let go of what we had once enjoyed together. The Professor’s slant on the study of the subject matter was that I should focus in my research area to specifically examine the role of BDSM play and stress. It was a legitimate subject for such research. It neatly avoided the pitfall of an overly broad focus on play, in general—which was a good thing. But, I couldn’t help but feel that an alternative topic might have been suggested if I had been a male student, or if the professor and I hadn’t been previously been involved with each other in the way that we were. 

The phone rings. I pick it up. The professor’s voice sounds calming after the tension of the exchanges with Joe as he’d left. “I wondered if you’d be in this morning.”

“Yes, sure. Why not?”

“Well, you said Joe was going away again and …”

I interrupt. “It’s just his job. It’s what he does. One month on, two weeks back. It’s a routine. I’m used to it.” I guess my one time lover knew that I wasn’t.  To make matters worse, next time he is going to be gone for almost three months. I’m not looking forward to that except that it will give me some more time to think about what I want from our relationship, and whether I stand any chance of getting it. “I’ll be in. I need to talk to you about my work. I’m not sure which way I should be going.”

“Of course. Just drop by. I’ll be happy to give you some direction.”

I put the phone down, remembering the insidious way in which Dawney had pushed our power games and thinking, “I’ll bet you will.” I gather up my papers and push them into the old, green, canvas shoulder bag I use. Last of all, I collect up the bundle of fetish magazines that I’d been working through. Once upon a time, they would just have been fun but, while the content still gives me a thrill, this time the purpose of my studies has been more “legitimate”. I’ve been cataloguing the various references to different forms of play and picking up on the occasions when some aspect of stress, either increase or alleviation was mentioned. A forest of yellow post-it tabs stuck out from the magazines. Then, there were the copies of printed material from a whole series of BDSM discussion boards and forums. At least there was a volume of material to start working on.

An hour later, I’m knocking on the door of Professor Dawney’s office. “Just a minute,” comes the voice from within. I stand in the corridor hugging my pile of papers to my chest, the canvas bag hanging heavily from my shoulder. More power plays, I think. I lean back against the wall, staring down the corridor and on out through the window across the park. I’d become used to these little demonstrations of control. “Come!” Even Dawney’s invitation to enter seemed designed to intimidate.

“Oh, Jenny, excellent,” Dawney’s greeting is fulsome. At once, I remember how I had been first attracted to the professor. Angela Dawney manages to combine a cool authoritative air with an almost Bohemian sense of the unconventional. The university is no longer the domain of the unconventional – the continued quest for funding and the need to make research “relevant” means that today’s departmental heads are as much business people as academics. But Angela Dawney is an eccentric oasis in a desert of convention.

Angela smiles as she pushes back a strand of hair. She’s only 38, maybe 10 years older than I, but her hair is already greying in places. Not that she cares. She is driven, and believes in making the best of herself, but I’m not sure that applies to the way she looks after her appearance. She can look a bit matronly, when she’s not careful.

Her office is filled with the usual collection of piles of books and journals. Her desk is covered with them too. Her laptop is propped on a top of one of the smaller piles, a web cam clipped to the screen peering out at the room like the eye of the Cyclops. A message window blinks, irritated, demanding attention. The only things on her desk apart from that are three framed photographs of Angela with the other academics at the Psychology Research Conventions in 2005 at Denver, 2006 at Stanford and 2007 at St Petersburg.

The Professor prides herself on being at the centre of an international network of specialists. The result is that she finds herself sought out to peer review papers, edit journals and comment on research proposals.

The rest of the office is buried beneath the accumulation of knowledge; a bookcase, a side table and two chairs are suffering in the same way as her desk as is a good three quarters of the floor. “Find yourself some space,” Angela calls, waving vaguely.

I look around and come to the same conclusion that many of Angela’s students do. There was nowhere else but the floor. I push a couple of the piles of books to one side and squat down, cross-legged, on the carpet, looking up at her. She likes that.

Angela swings her chair around to face me. She puts down the unlit cheroot she has been chewing on in, defiant against the college’s attempts to outlaw all forms of tobacco abuse. She brushes some biscuit crumbs from the lap of her calf length skirt. As she leans forward, my eyes are drawn to the Victorian style buttoned boots that the professor invariably wears. I remember a time when I would have wanted little else but to be sitting where I was then. I shrug to try to shake myself back to reality. “So,” Angela says, “tell me your thoughts so far.”

I launch into a summary of my progress so far, the material I’ve collected, the avenues explored.

“There is very little firsthand objective observational data. I think this is understandable. On the one hand, BDSM play has only surfaced into the public arena in relatively recent years and on the other, I guess it takes time for it to become a “respectable” subject for academic research. Then again, objective observations of BDSM behaviour are difficult to make without disturbing the participants. Imagine: you are in the hands of a Domme who is giving your bum a good going over and in the corner there is someone writing every thing down and then asking a whole series of questions about how it feels.”

I look across at Angela, concerned that she thinks I might be trivialising the discussion. Of course, she would be the last one to put herself in that situation. She doesn’t seem worried. I carry on. “Also, male behaviour has been the first target for scrutiny – guys in high powered jobs going in for sessions of role reversal as a way of escape. And females? Well, there is not a great deal to be had about women under occupational stress.  Again, it’s only in fairly recent years that one could find a significant number of women working at senior executive level and I think political correctness discourages the idea that some women might have a submissive sexual drive co-existing with a high powered management or technical job. And, of course, ‘super woman’ can’t possibly suffer from stress and require a somewhat exotic way to deal with it.”

Dawney looks thoughtful. She reaches out and I pass her a pile of the research papers I have been working through. Dawney rifles through them. It is a field she is familiar with and one in which she herself is considered to be an authority. From time to time, she peers down at me over her gold rimmed half moon spectacles. “I think you’re right,” she says. “This looks like a thorough collection of the existing research and I’d trust your assessment.” I feel pleased. Angela’s praise has always lifted me up. “But you’re an ethnographer. You must feel you have the ability to do original research in this area. To observe, to analyse, to draw conclusions from observation.”

“That’s what I think is needed, professor,” I say, anxious to keep things on a professional footing, and conscious that I am also venturing into an area that my mentor considers very much her own.

“Good” says Angela. “That’s why I asked you to look at the Inward Bound advertisement. I think it might be an interesting area of research for us. A sort of ready made sexual laboratory, I’d like you to go on one of their courses.”

“What?” I’m shocked by her proposition. It seems way out of line. Just another example of Dawney trying to restart our affair.

“Hear me out, Jenny,” she says. “This has got nothing to do with anything in our past. This is purely for research. Inward Bound’s courses offer a degree of immersion that you wouldn’t normally find. There’s a chance to observe genuine changes in behaviour and response. We couldn’t possibly reconstruct it in a laboratory.”

“That’s all very well, Professor,” I feel I want to get this onto a formal footing. “But it sounds like pretty dubious science to me. I don’t see how you can achieve much with an observer that is also a participant. And no matter what we got up to,” I look directly at her. Angela at least has the grace to look a little abashed, “I know that I’m hardly very experienced in BDSM and while, yes, I might find it a personal turn on, I can’t see how we would get any useful ethnographic results from it.”

“Of course, Jenny. You’re right. That’s not what I’m suggesting. What I think we should do is to try to establish if Inward Bound really would provide us with a suitable environment for a properly controlled research project. If you can get a real feel for what goes on there we could see if we really could answer the research questions that are coming out of your studies.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier and more ethical just to have someone sit in on some of their sessions?”

“Easier, certainly. I don’t think it would give us the best insights though. I think it really needs someone that is there and part of it. Either as part of the staff or as a course member. I couldn’t see you as part of the staff though.”

That’s unfair, a cheap jibe, I think. I am how I am. I’m not ashamed of my submissive responses.

Angela sees that I’m annoyed by her remark. “Sorry, Jenny. That was unkind. I do think that participation is an important element in allowing us to set the research agenda here. But of course, if you don’t feel that it’s something that you would like to do or feel able to do….”

It’s the same old, manipulative, Angela. And when we were together I did enjoy it. Now it’s difficult. I really don’t want to get myself back into a relationship with her but, on the other hand, the Inward Bound idea is intriguing and it could turn out to be an area for really interesting research. A guaranteed doctorate! I feel myself being drawn to the idea. It’s probably unwise but I start talking through some ideas. 

“Well, I could try to record some direct first hand observations of the submissive experience that Inward Bound provides. I could use a quasi-ethnographic approach. Although we’d have to recognise that the value of the results would be very limited for anything beyond establishing a research framework…”

“Of course,” Angela interjects. She can see that I am sliding myself in to the idea and she knows that she only has to oil the slope.

“Then I will see whether it’s practical to come up with a more scientific research programme.”

“I like that idea, you’d treat participation as a sort of pilot … hmmmmm …,” Angela says, polishing her glasses. “Give it some thought,” she continues “I genuinely think it’s the best way to move your doctorate forward. I know you’ll be thinking this has something to do with what went on before but it’s really about your studies. I suggest you explore what is involved. I’ll find out what I can do about funding.”

I smile. As usual Angela assumes agreement. I offer her my thanks, pick up my things and start to leave. I’ve learned enough from my time with Angela to quit while I am ahead. Besides,   I’m still not sure if I want to go through with this.

“Do you have to go?” Angela says. “With Joe being away, I thought you might need some company.”

“Sorry, professor, I have to go,” I say keen to return things to a professional footing.

Angela looks disappointed. “Perhaps another time,” she says.     

That’s exactly what I am worried about but, when I get back to my office, I spend an hour before going home thumbing through Second Skin again. There’s an article about enthusiasts for wearing fetish clothing in public. I’m fantasising about what it would be like to be dressed in rubber, following Joe around our local supermarket on a leash. Then I hear someone at the door.

The fantasy dissolves instantly. I toss the magazine back onto my pile of work papers and head back to my empty home.

© Copyright Freddie Clegg & Phil Lane 2008

All rights reserved.  Not to be reproduced or reposted without permission.

E-mail: freddie_clegg@yahoo.com   Web Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/freddies_tales/

All characters fictitious