Five Pt. 03
soppingwetpanties
This is David's story.
He provided the essence and inspiration for this work.
Although it would be helpful to read the first two parts, this part can be read on its own.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.
*
David returned his tray table and seat back to the upright and locked position as his early morning flight made its final approach to Cleveland. Business trips to headquarters were usually boring, but this one made him apprehensive since Miss Acadia made it clear that his boss, Lynette, was now much more than that. His personal life dedicated to submission and his business life had merged, and that fact was both arousing and unsettling.
David fidgeted in his economy class seat, the leg room almost non-existent, as he glanced over once again at the attractive redhead sitting across the aisle. She paid no attention to him as his eyes travelled in her direction. Her face reminded him in a vague way of Miss Acadia, tall, attractive and confident, yet reserved, and his thoughts traversed old ground -- Miss Acadia spotting him in a bar; his introduction to her as a "trainer," his complete submission to her and her lead sub Gamma, and finally to his direct supervisor, Lynette Fowler, being brought into his fantasy world by Miss Acadia. This trip was Miss Lynette's idea, and though it was billed as two full days of meetings, he suspected there would be more ... much more, though he had no idea what she had in store.
The aircraft taxied to the gate, and when the bell chimed, the passengers, sheeplike in nature, all tried to stand up at once, crowding the aisle. Trapped in the rear of the plane, David turned on his business phone first, then the burner phone that was dedicated to Miss Acadia. There were no new messages on either, so he went to his weather app, checking on the weather for the next several days. Snow was forecast, heavy at times, with temperatures hovering in the teens and a below zero wind chill.
The aisle finally cleared enough for him to stand up. He retrieved his roller bag from the overhead compartment, along with his bulky winter coat, and negotiated his way down the narrow center aisle of the Boeing 737. He passed the front section for first class, with the complimentary pillows and blankets scattered on the seats and floor, wondering if he'd ever accumulate enough miles to qualify for an automatic upgrade and the privilege of sitting up front.
Being one of the last to get off the plane, the cleaning crew was already onboard. David slipped by them and into the jetway, to be greeted by a frigid blast of air blowing off of Lake Erie that pushed through the gap between the plane and the collar of the jetway. He started to shiver, walking faster to reach the relative comfort of the terminal.
Coming off the plane at Gate C-29, he was just another business guy, a bobbing head in a sea of humanity, griping about the walk from the furthest gate and being reminded that he truly hated business travel. He had his heavy winter coat draped over his arm and his briefcase, clipped to his roller bag, pulling behind him. He followed his usual plan: rest room, express breakfast at a fast food chain restaurant, Hertz rental car counter, drive to the east side HQ, corporate meetings starting at 11 a.m., then the Marriott Courtyard, the company approved mid-price hotel, for two nights.
He paused as he headed down the concourse when his business phone beeped with a text:
Welcome to Cleveland David. Note schedule change. LF
He was puzzled; LF would be his boss, Lynette Fowler, the Marketing Director, but what change?
The burner phone in his other pocket chirped, the one only Miss Acadia used, so he was surprised, but opened it quickly to see a text:
Acadia gave me your #, Five.
I cancelled your rental car and hotel.
New plan: take RTA to Van Aken then taxi to 3224 Park View.
Go.
LF
So, now Lynette, like Miss Acadia, was issuing him orders. He thought about how Miss Acadia had reached out to her, befriended her, and allowed her to humiliate and peg him. He realized he was getting into something darker now, where the stakes now involved his job, and therefore his livelihood, and maybe even his pension. He doubted at his age that he would ever find another job, and that made the stakes compelling. That being said, it never occurred to him not to comply with her order.
He lived in Cleveland, but that was forty years ago, as a child; he knew that the RTA was the subway and trolley rapid transit, and that it ran to the east side. He sighed and kept walking, pulling his bag to the station at the far end of the terminal, then figuring out how to buy a ticket. It took more than an hour, with a change of trains downtown, until he got off at the suburban station and found a single aging local cab idling at the curb. There were snow flurries swirling around in a cold breeze when it dropped him off in front of a large brick and timber English style house, like a small mansion. He knew this was Shaker Heights, one of the wealthiest close-in suburbs, and he was surprised Lynette would live there, if this house was indeed hers. And if not, what now?
The street was deserted as he paid off the cab, and dragged his roller bag up the long slate walkway. The house was a 1920's version of a Tudor house, with a heavy dark blue wooden door with an iron grillwork over a small window and a heavy iron knocker. David lifted it and tapped, and waited.
He was becoming concerned he had the wrong place until the door unlatched and swung open. It was Lynette, dressed for a comfortable winter day at home, with an above the knee tweed skirt, dark stockings with low heels, and a soft, expensive looking tight fitting sweater that emphasized her impressive breasts and her narrow waistline. He was used to seeing her in more conservative corporate appropriate dress, and the wardrobe change presented a refreshing, and arousing, change.
"Good. Glad you made it. Come in. You can leave your shoes in the entranceway," she said, as if she was welcoming an old friend.
David slipped off his wet shoes and padded into her house in his socks, following her to the living room. He was expecting furnishings to match the style of the house, but instead it was all light colors and a few pieces of modern furniture. A slender well-dressed woman in a business suit was sitting in a loveseat upholstered with a colorful abstract print, drinking coffee from a china cup. She put the cup into the saucer and stood up.
"Good morning David."
David recognized her as Danielle Mandrake, the head of the company's HR department. He had caught glimpses of her when he traversed the executive suite of offices, but had never been introduced. Danielle looked to be in her thirties, her dark, satiny hair up in a French twist. He noted her slim but curvy body and attractive legs. He was completely off balance. He was in his boss's personal residence with the head of HR visiting? It made no sense.
"Why hello ... is it Danielle?" he asked tentatively, not completely trusting his powers of recognition.
"That's right ... Danielle Mandrake."
Her voice was a silky smooth as her glossy hair.
"Danielle's here to make sure there are no HR violations during your visit to Cleveland ... isn't that right Danielle?" Lynette said with a chuckle. She went around David and stood next to the seated Danielle. She leaned over and kissed Danielle with a passion reserved for lovers, not friends. The kiss left no doubt why Danielle was there.
Danielle smiled and then laughed. "Of course Lynette, whatever you say."
"Danielle and I are good friends," said Lynette, her comment superfluous.
Danielle put her arm around Lynette's waist, cupping her bottom. "Very good friends."
David stood there dumbfounded. First, his boss saw him naked and pegged him at Miss Acadia's, and now this, Lynette having an affair with the head of HR. A few months ago he was bored and marking time in his corporate apartment, and now he was being kept constantly off balance, but firmly in the grasp of two senior executives of his employer. He realized his life had flipped over; instead of a secret life he kept away from his work life, these business women now owned him and controlled him and his career.
