Beth looked in again at the computer terminals of her twelve underlines from the confines of her interior office. Nothing there of the slightly interest. All were doing their job. How boring. Fu Fong had called a couple of weeks ago to ask her out on another bondage date. But when she had asked what to wear this time he had said it could be rags for all he cared for she wouldn't be wearing clothing this time. She had said she would let him know.
She had thought it over seeing that American chink manipulating her naked body with all sort of bondage devices. She felt that she would probably leave his house in one piece but now doubted that even multiples time with Fong would move her up the corporate ladder. To her knowledge only one of his victims had, and she was highly skilled in the technology that Fong oversaw.
God she was bored sitting there in her sparse office with its translucent walls. Her frustration was broken by her phone.
"Beth; it's Grace Pointer from Personnel."
"Yes Grace; how are you?"
"I'm fine. I just had a call from Mister Fong in Systems Analysis."
Her heart skipped a beat. Was Fong about to turn the screw?
"Mister Fong and I have known each other personally for some time."
"Oh?"
"He says that he thinks we should get together sometime. Says that he thinks I would like . . . like . . . your companionship. That you are a real trouper."
"I see."
"He also said that he thought I might well fill the next opening for a G-4 position in the company."
G-4, she thought. That was the next grade up for her. That could well entail a window office and a secretary.
"How kind of Mr. Fong to have thought of me."
"Fu is always on the lookout for talent, you know. For, shall we say, specialized talent in the company."
"But do we know each other?"
"We would if you would let me take you to diner tomorrow night."
- - - - - - - -
Beth looked at her limited wardrobe. How could she decide what to wear for a diner with a woman she didn't know other than the obvious fact that she had a fetish just as Fu Fong had a fetish. But would it also be a bondage fetish? Or some other fetish? Perhaps a foot fetish. There were so many. Then perhaps she was simply a lesbian. Probably not since the weirdo Fong had recommended her for whom she had been totally submissive.
Beth found Grace sitting at the restaurant bar with a cocktail. She was wearing a smart designer's black leather pants suit with a large red belt with oversized gold buckle. The almost six foot, trim woman smiled and waved to her as she came in. Being in personnel she knew what Beth looked like from her file. After asking her what she would like to drink she suggested that they take a small booth there in the bar off the main part of the restaurant.
Beth felt oddly out of place as they sat facing each other. She had worn a fetching and quite feminine pink ensemble which was in sharp contrast to the masculine attire of Grace. To Grace's pleasure they screamed dom and sub from the get-go.
"I love your outfit, Beth. All pretty and pink."
"Thank you Grace." She started to frame a comment about her own, but changed her mind.
"Ah; here is your drink. Here's to an adventurous evening."
A little small talk followed as they slowly consumed their drinks. But their focus was on sizing each other up.
Beth found Grace rather frightening and overbearing as her eyes studied every aspect of the delicate young woman sitting there before her. She saw the woman study her eyes and her hair and her lips and even her hands. It was clear that she liked what she saw. Apparently she was picturing her as her sub.
And she did. Oh how she was going to enjoy whipping this innocent youthful Beth. Oh yes. Oh yes. But damn it; they were to have diner first. The whipping had to wait.
"Mister Fong has a fetish you know," said Beth in trying to flush out this Grace's fetish.
"Yes. He's into bondage and, I might add, is good at it. Don't you agree?"
"Well we only had the one date."
"I do hope you have more. In the end it might pay well for you in the company."
"Might I ask if you have a fetish?"
"You may, Beth."
When Grace didn't volunteer more, Beth asked directly.
"And what might that be?"
"Beth, I'm a sadist."
"Oh; I see."
That was a rather broad answer. What type of sadist? She hesitated to ask.
"I enjoy whipping young ladies such as yourself. What do you think of that?"
"Ugh . . . ugh . . . nothing. That's nice. I don't know if I've ever know a sadist."
"Then you are not a masochists?"
"Certainly not. I'm no friend of pain."
"Good."
"Good?"
"Good. I don't like masochists. Most sadists don't. Sadist don't want to see their victims enjoying themselves. Another drink?"
- - - - - - -
During diner Grace suggested that they eat light. So they just had two appetizers and wine and left.
"Grace; knowing that I rather don't care for pain, what's in it for me to being your . . . your sub?"
"Beth dear; in my position in Personnel I know when openings occur. I'm sure you've thought of that."
"And you have a G-4 in mind for me; right?"
"Indeed I do if . . . if . . ."
"If?"