Association

By Adrian Hunter and Chelsea Shepard

PROLOGUE

International Fashion Council Memorandum

Extract from the minutes of the monthly board meeting Point 35-c: Cover for Annual Report

The Executive Director motioned to discuss the cover for the association's annual report. The ensuing discussion resulted in general agreement that the theme should focus on the IFC's new initiative to promote leather apparel to a worldwide audience.

The Secretary opened the floor to suggestions for an umbrella slogan to encompass the myriad qualities of leather as a suitable material for haute couture designs. Additional discussion centered on leather's benefits, with a general consensus that the proposed wording would have to accurately deliver the desired value messages in a simple headline that would also lend itself to graphic interpretation.

Several themes were proposed and subsequently rejected. Finally, the Chairman put forward "The Economy of Movement" as a suitable slogan that subtly reinforced the association's ongoing efforts to reduce its operating costs in light of the growing number of complaints regarding excessive expenses incurred by the executive committee.

After a brief brainstorm session, the board agreed to move forward with the Chairman's recommendation, as well as his strong preference to assign the project to the creative design firm of Geoffrey Sorenson Ltd. Given the critical importance of the leather initiative for the association, the Chairman urged the board to provide Mr. Sorenson with absolute freedom in regard to the composition of the cover and the interior pages of the annual report.

The Board selected Executive Director-elect Sabrina Taylor to travel to Sorenson's studios to supervise the photography sessions for the cover. It was also suggested that Taylor should serve as the model for the project, as it would be a unique opportunity to introduce her to those members who have not yet made her acquaintance. After a brief debate, it was decided that Taylor would research and contact other professional models for consideration.

A detailed proposal for the project will be drafted by the board for immediate review and approval.

The board of directors voted unanimously in favor of the recommendation, with Taylor abstaining.

***

From the desk of Geoffrey Sorenson

May 25

On behalf of Geoffrey Sorenson Ltd., we happily accept the International Fashion Council's proposal regarding principal photography for the association's annual report, and look forward to making the acquaintance of Ms. Taylor in the near future.

Sincerely yours,

Geoffrey Sorenson President and Chief Creative Officer Geoffrey Sorenson Ltd.

***

27 May

Dearest Geoffrey,

Forgive my use of an ancient typewriter, but I don't trust the phones, and I can't get away to meet with you in person.

I am very pleased you have accepted the assignment to design and photograph the association's annual report. However, I'm afraid there's more to this project than a few pretty pictures. Specifically, the board of directors finds itself in rather urgent need of your expertise in the field of, shall we say, international export of perishable goods.

As you know, one of our senior staff members, Sabrina Taylor, has been assigned to supervise the project on-site at your studios. When she returns, Ms. Taylor is scheduled to take over as Executive Director of the International Fashion Council in accordance with her surprise victory in last month's election. While the board did its best to maintain the status quo, her platform of complete disclosure struck a resonant chord with the membership, and the votes in her favor were substantially higher than those cast for the incumbent.

This unexpected turn of events is most unfortunate. While the board is legally required to promote Ms. Taylor, suffice it to say we do not share her enthusiasm for a complete audit of the association's records, specifically in regard to some expense vouchers which will be difficult to justify to outside professionals. In fact, we are quite certain the investigation will quickly escalate into more troublesome encounters with law enforcement representatives, not to mention tax-compliance officers.

Therefore, we find ourselves in a bit of a tight spot, and feel compelled to take drastic measures that will ensure Ms. Taylor's proposed financial review does not occur. I trust you to make the necessary arrangements in your usual thorough manner.

I am confident that your efforts will be more than amply rewarded by the final purchase price negotiated with your friends in Hong Kong. However, if you need any additional funds, please don't hesitate to give me a shout.

Thanks again for helping out an old friend. I presume you will know what to do with this letter, but just in case, I have taken the liberty of enclosing a book of matches.

Best regards, A

***

From the desk of Geoffrey Sorenson

May 29

A,

Got your note, and thanks for sending along the photographs of Ms. Taylor, too. Based on her considerable "qualifications," I am quite confident that a mutually-satisfactory transaction can be arranged. Give my best to the board, and please assure them that your "problem" is as good as solved.

GS

***

International Fashion Council Memorandum

Date: June 1 To: Geoffrey Sorenson From: Sabrina Taylor Subject: Annual Report Project

Thank you for your recent telephone call; it was a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.

While I continue to have strong reservations about the Chairman's proposed theme, I have come to agree that "The Economy of Movement" will magnify the qualities of leather as a chic, yet cost-effective alternative to other materials for today's fashions.

At the request of the board, I have enclosed a detailed list of my body measurements. Since I do not share the board's enthusiasm for posing for the annual report myself, I have also forwarded résumés and portfolio samples from several fashion models whom I think will better capture the approach we discussed. I will leave it to you to choose the most suitable one(s) and arrange for her/their participation in the project as required.

Please don't hesitate to contact me if you have any additional questions. Otherwise, I look forward to meeting you and your team in person.

ST

***

VIA WESTERN UNION

JUNE 6 TO: DAV IWATA/HONG KONG

NEW PRODUCT AVAILABLE STOP PHOTO SENT STOP DETERMINE INTEREST STOP

GS

***

VIA WESTERN UNION

JUNE 7 REPLY TO: GEOFFREY SORENSON

GOOD NEWS STOP SCHEDULING 2 WEEK AUCTION STOP PREFERENCE PONY STOP HAVE FUN STOP

DI

***

VIA WESTERN UNION

JUNE 8 REPLY TO: DAV IWATA

TIMING OK STOP CLEANING BARN STOP

GS

***

DAY 1—SABRINA

So, there I was, finally. Three steps and a knock away from meeting Geoffrey Sorenson, my host for two weeks. Instead of clearing out my desk and moving to my new office, I had been sent to supervise the photo session for the annual report at a studio whose location redefines "remote." How absurd. Did the board still think I was their cute administrative assistant, so eager to please? I couldn't wait to introduce them to the new Sabrina Taylor as soon as I returned.

It was a wonder I had found this crazy place. After an endless drive, I had to ask for directions four times before I chanced upon the small gravel road fighting its way around pines and firs toward the "GS Studios."

When I wheeled around the final bend and drove past the large front yard, I wasn't sure what to expect, but certainly not the modern two- story edifice ahead of me. Bathed in the afternoon sunlight, the white walls, orange-tiled roof and ivy swirls around the front door made it look like a villa on the French Riviera. A very unusual sight in such rustic surroundings.

I sighed with relief and pushed aside my gloomy thoughts. Maybe this stupid assignment wasn't going to be so bad after all. Hell, if there was a pool behind the privacy hedges, the place could pass for a resort.

I parked the car, grabbed my suitcase out of the trunk, and walked to the door, keeping my eyes fixed on the strange knocker in its center. A grinning skull wasn't exactly standard issue in Cannes.

I knocked twice, and couldn't help smiling as I recalled all my worst-case scenarios. Like how the association wanted to send me away so they could elect a new director. Like maybe the chairman's nephew, a spoiled brat who wasn't smart enough to run the coffee machine, much less the council. Or the odd rumors about Sorenson whispered after the last board meeting. It was just like me, always expecting the worst, but secretly hoping for the best.

I was still smiling when the door opened.

--GEOFFREY--

Damn! Another one broken. And this package read "extra large," although you can't really tell by looking. Maybe these were made for the Japanese market, where they claim stupendous sizes on the box while the rubbers themselves are actually smaller than regular.

I balanced the anal plug on its base next to the pile of foil wrappers, making it look like a Christmas tree from a distant planet. Well, maybe not being able to get a condom around it was a sign that it was a little larger than--

A knock.

Another one.

About time.

I scooped up the plug and tossed it underhand into my correspondence drawer, then swept the condom cases off the desktop into the trash.

Stay cool, I reminded myself as I hurried, then strolled, down the staircase from my office to the entry hall. You've done this before.

I willed my most charming smile onto my face, and pulled open the door.

"You must be Sabrina Taylor," I said as I motioned her inside. "Geoffrey Sorenson. I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance. I presume my directions made sense. Can I take your bag?"

Et cetera. Smooth and social, yet faintly professional. A light conversational patter to cover my brain's dangerous detour toward red- line overload.

The chairman's pictures scarcely did her justice. Iwata was going to pop a cork when the courier arrived with the sample rolls I would shoot this afternoon.

And I would pay off my mortgage with the profits from selling her to the highest bidder.

"Career opportunities, they keep you off the dock," I sang to myself as I carried her luggage upstairs. No wonder so many of America's Founding Fathers were slavers, too.

But I couldn't help being a bit nervous. Things were running too smoothly. I saw, I conquered, I came. My old friend Murphy wouldn't like that. His law is absolute; anything that can go wrong, will.

My talent-acquisition process was usually much more of a challenge, involving all sorts of intrigue, as well as a fair share of danger. First, I had to find the right kind of girl. Pretty, but not memorable. Strong, but not muscular. Smart, but not sensible. Restaurants were my preferred hunting ground, as no waitress wants to be one forever.

Then came the persuasion part. A little flattery here, some outrageous sums of money there...let the fish sniff the lure first. Bring her to the house, open a bottle of wine, and start talking about friends and family. If she has an abundance of either, take a few sample photos and bid her adieu.

If not, convince her to stay the night. If she agreed, continue the process for a week or two. One night, add a little something to her wine to help her sleep.

Finally, something besides my camera would click. And the price of the key was inevitably six digits, or more.

No, this one required more attention to the details. For one, Sabrina Taylor wasn't some anonymous runaway contemplating an alternative career in pornography. She had a real job, although that would be easy to erase, given who had sent her to me in the first place. The odds were good she had a full, active life outside the office, too. Maybe even a boyfriend.

Luckily, I had two weeks to work all the angles.

Time to bait the hook.

--SABRINA--

"All settled? Great. Did you find everything you need? Brilliant."

Geoffrey escorted me through the living room to French doors that led to a patio extending across the length of the house. A huge swimming pool surrounded by lush lawns and tall trees dominated the view.

Not bad for a photographer, I thought to myself. In fact, he'd have to be one of the world's best to afford property like this. So why was he bothering with a little project like an annual report for an association?

Something was strange here. Money for nothing, and your chicks for free? Maybe like the expense-report irregularities that seemed to crop up with increasing frequency in the council's financial statements? I made a note to do some research as soon as I got back to the office.

In the meantime, I figured I might as well enjoy the generosity of my most hospitable host, starting with what looked to be a delicious late lunch waiting for us on a glass-and-metal table under an umbrella near the pool.

--GEOFFREY--

"I hope you don't mind Chardonnay," I said as I poured another generous helping into Sabrina's glass. "The Beaujolais wasn't worth the cost of cork this year."

My guest giggled pleasantly, and shielded her eyes from the sun. We had been chatting for more than an hour, and the glorious spring afternoon was well on its way to its rendezvous with twilight.

I stood up and wandered over to a wooden cabinet where I found a bottle of coconut oil and some ostentatious Swedish sunscreen for her face.

"It's too nice to sit inside, and you don't want to singe that lovely skin of yours," I said as I proffered the exotic condiments, knowing how much better she would photograph with some color, especially in contrast to the white parts my customers valued most.

"Damn, I didn't bring a bathing suit," she muttered. "I don't suppose..."

"Of course I have a spare bikini," I said magnanimously. "You'll find it in your bathroom. Top drawer of the towel cabinet."

As soon as she entered the house, I finished my wine in a single gulp. Let's see if she's willing to try something new, I said to myself. Something a little risqué. Something out of the ordinary. Something to scare Mummy.

Something she never expected.

--SABRINA--

Did Geoffrey really think this minuscule rag--nothing more than three triangles and string--qualified as proper bathing attire? The white rubber was so thin, it verged on translucent. And the shoe situation was even worse. Instead of flip-flops or sandals, all I could find was a pair of white mules with four-inch heels and straps like spaghetti.

What kind of game was this guy playing? Contrary to the board's expectations, "supermodel" wasn't listed on my résumé. Neither was prudish, but I hated to be jerked around, especially by strangers on my payroll.

"Fuck it, and fuck him, too," I said to my reflection in the full- length mirror, rendered blurry by my wine-soaked eyes. "I'll show him who's running this show."

I shoved the bikini back into the drawer, slipped on the ridiculous shoes, and headed for the stairs. Strangely, I had never felt so self-assured in my life. Naked as the day I was born, I walked through the French doors and headed straight for the chair where Geoffrey sat with his mouth agape. All you could hear was the water lapping against the sides of the pool, and the click of my heels on the enameled tiles.

--GEOFFREY--

"Where's your bikini, Sabrina? You'll need it to avoid--"

"Let's get something straight, Geoff-reeeey."

She drawled out my name like a naughty child pulling a piece of gum out of her mouth.

"You don't tell me what to do. And I don't like jokes at my expense."

I stared at her in raging silence, my emotions ping-ponging between panic and lust. Under normal circumstances, bad manners like this would present an opportunity to accelerate the incarceration procedure. And there was nothing like a little obstinacy to make the training process more satisfying.

But there was nothing normal about this woman, starting with her physical proportions, all of which would earn A+ grades from any meat inspector.

I reminded myself to stop thinking of her like that. She's no corn- fed cutie running away from a knuckle-dragging father who starting fucking her before she hit puberty. My typical lightning won't blow her fuse. And she didn't care about my money, so she wasn't about to compromise her class by playing fetish doll for me.

This one was definitely different. What a pleasant surprise.

"I beg to differ, Sabrina. And so will you. Much as I enjoy the show, please go back inside and put something over your skin before you hurt yourself."

Instead, she flipped me off as she slithered into the chair next to mine and stuck her hand across the table in search of the wine bottle. I was sorely tempted to wrap a manacle around her slender wrist, but I still needed an airtight alibi before I could engage her in a more formal curriculum of behavior modification.

"The sun is quite strong, even this early in the season, so I really must insist. If you need some assistance, I'd be happy to put the bikini on you myself."

--SABRINA--

"I see."

Pretending to be calm, I took the wine bottle and filled my glass. I needed a few seconds to formulate my reply. Angry, yes, but I was interested, too. I didn't think Geoffrey was the kind of man who failed. As to putting on the bikini himself, I had no doubt he would. I played with the idea of letting him take the initiative, just to see how he would manage to keep me still, but I wasn't going to give him the pleasure.

I took a sip. Lovely.

"Like I said, you don't tell me what to do. However..."

Another sip. I needed this.

"I will put on the so-called bikini, but only because the sun is much too cruel on my sensitive parts and I value them too much to see them hurt."

He grinned. "At least you're reasonable."

I emptied my glass and got up, my eyes locked on his.

"While I'm gone, will you be so kind as to refill my glass, Geoffrey?"

I left him to savor his semi-victory and walked slowly back to the house, silently cursing the heels with each step.

Once in the bathroom, I dug out up the white latex scraps. I was going to look like a centerfold spread in a magazine sold exclusively from under the counter. But I could handle it. If only I could manage to tie the strings behind my back. Was I that nervous?

As I walked out of the bathroom, I lost my balance and stumbled, twisting my ankle.

"Ouch! Damn stupid heels."

I made an angry move to take them off, but changed my mind just as quickly. The day had been long; I was getting tired, not to mention edgy, and the last thing I wanted was another fight. We would discuss footwear tomorrow.

Taking a final look in the mirror, I decided woman's lib would wait another day.

***

DAY 2--SABRINA

What a weird guy. Geoffrey was friendly and cheerful to a fault, but it was clearly painful for him to express any sentiment that began with the letter "I."

Once recovered from the Bikini Incident (memo to self: why do I get so prickly around men I might fancy?), we spent the rest of the day chatting by the pool, sipping his lovely wine, and enjoying the sun and water. While Geoffrey listened raptly to the smallest details about my life, he politely evaded any questions related to him.

After last night's dinner, I pulled out my briefcase to show him some sample photographs and backgrounds for the annual report. But he scarcely glanced at them, dismissing my suggestions with a yawn. When I asked to hear his vision, his plan was generic at best. Besides, even the dumbest clotheshorse knew better than to lounge by the pool in leather.

Did Sorenson have the slightest clue about graphic design? Was he even a real photographer? I flashed back to yesterday's bad feeling. Maybe I should call someone. After all, only the chairman and some board members know where...