's Candy

Part 30 Surprise...surprise...surprise.

Sunday was sunny, and already hot by the time we got out of bed. I needed to clean the boat and Mistress did Her part to hasten the process by agreeing to Eggos for breakfast. Sundays we often liked to leave on the early side, giving us time to get home and reset for the coming week.

"I'll get some sun while you're doing the boat, candy. Then we can pack up and take off. We'll grab lunch somewhere on the way home." I was fine with this plan, although My week looked to be an easy one with Rick not around much.

When we got down to the dock, I expected Mistress to just settle in on the front of boat, but She told me to go below deck with Her. I followed Her and She pointed to the bed and laughed. Or rather, pointed to what was

on

the bed: a white bikini and a pair of white platform stripper heels.

I looked at Her, then at the bed.

Katherine laughed again. "Your boat-washing outfit, slut."

I nodded and swallowed hard. I didn't mind the bikini about moving around the boat in those shoes was going to be a challenge.

"See you up top," Mistress said with a smirk, and exited.

I sighed and got dressed. I looked in the mirror and had to admit that with the tan I had, the white bikini looked good on me. I turned to the side and looked down...and up. My legs looked a mile long in these shoes. I smiled to myself as I started to head above deck; something very obvious, in once sense, but so subtle -- reinforcing Her control without a word about it -- Mistress was

the

perfect Mistress for me; I had no doubt of that.

Katherine handed me a plain white ball cap. "Sun is going to be strong today," She said in a concerned tone. I put the hat on, grateful for the extra coverage, even if symbolic.

I carefully got started. Mistress glanced over at me, laughing. "Your cleaning the boat could become a spectator attraction, slut. Maybe I could sell tickets or something."

I gulped but had to smile, feeling how much fun She was having with this.

At one point I dropped a paper towel and crouched to pick it up. Mistress noticed this and admonished me. "Oh no, candy. Bend at the waist only." I bit my lip and did as commanded. Jeez.

After a while I started to feel normal, the focus on doing a good job of cleaning occupying my mind and making the time go by quickly. I'd hear a boat pass by now and then and would hear Mistress calling in greeting if She knew the people...that momentarily bounced me back to the reality of what I was doing and how I was dressed while doing it, but those feelings didn't linger.

From time to time, I'd move a certain way and the tag attached to my navel ring would remind me that it was exposed. When that happened, my only feeling was pride.

Around noon I was finally done. I looked at my work and felt good about the results, at the same time realizing that a boat doesn't have to be huge to be a lot of work.

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We were having a late lunch Toochi's, which we drove by every time we went to and from the lake but had never stopped at. Toochi's turned out to be pretty good; the vibe was whimsical, like the name, and the food was leaning upscale without feeling pretentious or overwrought.

Mistress wanted to try the poblano pepper stuffed with shrimp and corn, so we split that for a starter. For an entrée I kept it simple with a pork chop and grits, while Mistress, feeling a biut more adventurous, chose the bison burger with gorgonzola and crispy shallots.

While we waited for the poblano to arrive, I told Mistress about Lenka's busy schedule of appearances, and that Rick was going to be accompanying her at points during the tour. I offered my idle speculation that maybe Rick wanted to keep an eye on her.

Katherine sipped Her ginger ale, then looked at me with a knowing smile. "Honestly, candy, I don't think that's it." She said it with some air of finality, as though it should be obvious.

I'd learned that a dumb question is better than speculating in silence. "Why do you say that Mistress?"

She smiled warmly. "I have known Rick a long time, candy...and he's many things, most of which you're aware of on a day-to-day basis. He's polite, funny, smart, understanding, reasonable, etc."

Katherine idly trailed a fingertip along the rim of Her glass. "But one thing Rick is not a man who is going to lose sleep over a woman. That sounds terrible but it's just who he is. You think Lenka is the first gorgeous model he's been with? Believe Me when I tell you that Rick has had the some of most desirable women you can think of."

Mistress paused a moment. "But he's not

with

any of them."

I considered this. Mistress had known Rick a lot longer than I had, and certainly His random use of me in the office would lend credence to Mistress' observations. I felt compelled to make a point, though.

"But Mistress...Lenka is collared to Him. Don't you think He has much more invested here than He might've had in a vanilla relationship?"

The appetizer arrived, looking and smelling delicious. We dug into it, cutting off pieces.

Mistress at length answered me. "Two things, one technical, one more important, pet. One, Rick's had many a girl in the D/s way over the years."

OK that made sense. I don't know why I assumed Lenka was His first sub.

"Two. You're looking at this through the lens of Me and you, candy. For us, that collar means everything and symbolizes everything. For us, D/s is this deep and magical thing, capable of transporting us to places unimaginable in a vanilla relationship. For us it transcends sex."

I listened, rapt, as Katherine perfectly described us.

"But as I have said, D/s is not a thing you do in theory. In real life, there are a thousand flavors and a thousand ways of expressing them. For some it includes collars and the like, for others not. But your collar is not Lenka's collar, in presence or in meaning, and Rick's way of owning and the meaning He attaches to that are different from My way."

I nodded, listening, enjoying the varied flavors of the stuffed poblano...slightly spicy, earthy, and sweet all tumbling together, the shrimp asserting itself at first, then slowly pulling back. We polished it off faster than might've been strictly ladylike.

"This doesn't make Rick a jerk or a bad Owner. He loves owning Lenka, I'm sure, but in the end, He won't be turned around by her, especially if it imperils the business relationship."

The waitress came by and took away the spent appetizer plates.

"Rick I'm sure has feelings for Lenka, and he might even love her, as He understands that, but as I mentioned when I told you the story of Rick getting her out of Romania, Rick has money and pleasure in balance and if push comes to shove, He'll reach for his wallet before reaching for His dick."

I nearly spit Diet Coke. Mistress' toe-dip into crudity caught me totally off-guard. She was laughing, obviously aware of Her maneuver.

When I recovered, I had another question. "So, if Rick and Lenka were to break up, and no longer be sexually or D/s-involved in any way, she'd still be one of His models?"

"Absolutely, slut. A contract is a contract, and I get the impression that Lenka is a good businesswoman in addition to her more obvious talents -- she knows that Rick will pay her the most and treat her the best, even if she weren't grateful for His help in Romania, which I know she is. She'd have no incentive to go elsewhere."

At this point I wasn't sure if I really was invested in what I was saying or was just enjoying the conversation and Katherine's insights too much to stop. "Suppose it was a bad breakup, though?"

Mistress smiled at me. "You know Rick well enough now, candy. 'Bad breakup?' I don't think so."

She was right. Rick was the kind of person who could dump you and make you feel grateful for having been dumped. It wasn't manipulative, either...it was just a natural thing with Him.

The entrees arrived and Mistress regaled me with funny anecdotes from Her own travels to some of the places Lenka was going over the next few weeks.

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Rick had given me several projects to work on, none with any particular due date. His being in Europe with Lenka gave me a chance to put a lot of time into those projects. The open-ended nature was in one sense a good thing, but in another, it made me somewhat uncomfortable. I preferred a deadline...a deadline focused me.

I hadn't heard much from Rick since He'd left. He had said that I could handle situations, so I shouldn't feel I needed to contact Him except in the most urgent cases. Thus when an e-mail from Rick came in, with no subject other than "RE:," I was half intrigued and half-concerned.

I opened the message:

From: Rick Travers

To: candy Blackwell

Subject: RE:

Hi candy:

Don't feel obligated to come in on Friday. Or make it a short day if you have things you really need to get done.

Have a great weekend,

Rick

I forwarded the message to Mistress, without comment. I sighed happily as I hit SEND...the freedom to not have to decide is the greatest freedom there is. Plus, I might get a longer weekend...yay for that.

About an hour later, I was thinking about what was for lunch and would I have to go to work on Friday, when I got an invite to a video call from Rick, with the subject "Change of Plans?" I saw that Mistress was invited as well, and that the call was in five minutes.

OK, something had happened, and happened suddenly.

I accepted the invite and scooted into the bathroom in Hank's office to check my makeup and overall look. Satisfied that I wouldn't make anyone's monitor break, I closed the outer door, sat down, and connected.

Intrigued as I was, and happy to see/talk to Mistress during the day, of course, I was nervous, too. Whatever the potential change of plans was, it had to be something significant for Rick to include Katherine.

Rick connected and He and Mistress became visible. Mistress was in Her office; Rick looked to be in a lobby of a hotel.

Rick thanked us and apologized for the haphazard nature of things, then got right to the point.

"I'm in London with Lenka, as you know. We're headed to Amsterdam next."

I listened. Must be nice.

"Katherine, I'd have planned this had I known beforehand, but... Lenka is trying to adjust to this whole thing, and I think she's feeling...lonely. When she's not doing appearances, I'm off doing other things and she has a lot of boring downtime."

The silence grew for a few seconds before Rick continued.

"Katherine, if you would consider it...I'd like for candy to meet up with us in Amsterdam and be Lenka's shopping buddy and BFF when Lenka's not working the Lionne account. Of course, it wouldn't cost you anything and I'd be sure to keep a good eye on her."

This time the silence was a bit longer. There was nothing for me to say in this conversation right now. It was Mistress Who would determine the course of things.

Katherine's voice broke the silence. "How long would she be gone for, Rick?"

I wasn't sure if I should be excited or scared as I listened.

"I'd put her on the next first-class flight I can, Kat, and then we'd all fly back on the corporate jet on Sunday." Rick had that tone in His voice where He's being direct and informative but also subtly selling at the same time.

Silence again. Rick and Astrid were the only people who ever called Mistress "Kat."

Mistress smiled. "Yes, I think it's a great idea, Rick...candy would be a great companion for Lenka, plus Amsterdam is great, she should experience it."

I honestly couldn't classify my feelings at this point. I didn't want to be away from Mistress, but I felt honored that Rick wanted me there for Lenka and that Mistress thought I'd represent Her well.

Rick was all smiles. "Great! I will get this booked ASAP and forward you both the itinerary, etc. I'll have a driver pick you up -- details once I know what time we need to get you to the airport."

"Thank you so much, Kat! This will mean the world to Lenka, and I won't forget You for it," Rick said, seeming even more relieved than He did happy. I wondered how much of a pain Lenka was being, then realized that Lenka was going to be

my

problem for the next few days.

Mistress asked me to click off so She could talk to Rick a minute. I did so, and a few minutes later my phone rang. It was Mistress, letting me know I should leave the office now and get home to start packing, and that She'd be home soon after I got there. I was going to ask a couple of questions, but Katherine seemed a bit on edge, or something, so I saved my questions for when I saw Her.

I turned on Out of Office, shut down, packed up, and left. Talk about a day taking a left turn.

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I got home, pulled out a carry-on and the suitcase on wheels, and opened the closet door. I sat on the bed a few minutes, contemplating the almost endless possibilities before me. What the heck should I pack to wear in Amsterdam?

Then I had a practical moment. I grabbed my phone and checked the weather in Amsterdam for the next few days. OK, not that different from here. So, just focus on looking great. In this, as in all things, candy, you serve Her. And this time you serve Her by looking good and making sure Lenka has a good time.

I repeated that to myself a few times and felt better. I got up and waded into the closet and was well along with selecting and packing when I heard Katherine's car in the driveway.

Together we made the remaining fashion choices, Mistress reminding me that the usual rules about heels and whatnot applied, even though She would not be there, and even more so

because

She would not be there.

Before I started to pack the carry-on items, I checked my phone for e-mail, and there was the E-ticket to Amsterdam. My flight left at 9; Another e-mail detailed that the driver would be at the house at 5 to make the hour-plus drive to the airport. Rick had included the driver's name and photo.

Katherine was reading Her copies of the emails at the same time I was reading mine. We put our phones down at the same time.

"Something else we have to deal with, candy," She said in a surprisingly somber tone.

She came over to me and took my hand. I was a little surprised...Mistress is not really the holding hands type.

Katherine led me into the garage. I was now completely baffled.

Mistress squeezed my hand. "I don't think the TSA's metal detector is going to like this, candy." She tugged on the padlock on my collar.

"And I don't want you hauled away and questioned for hours by some concerned soul from the State Department about what human trafficking ring you're a prisoner of."

"Oh!" I gasped, not having thought about

that

aspect of flying commercial.

Mistress obviously had thought about it and anticipated what needed to be done. The padlock had no keyhole; it would need to be cut off.

Mistress grabbed the bolt cutters and told me to lift my chin. I did so, holding back tears. This collar had never come off since it had been put on -- it felt like a part of me.

Mistress was emotional as well as She carefully snipped the lock, put down the bolt cutters, and removed the lock and tossed it in the trash.

Mistress removed the collar and handed it to me, along with two new padlocks.

"You put this on as soon as you clear Customs in Amsterdam, candy. Put it and the locks in your carry-on bag." I nodded, the sensation of my neck being bare feeling so foreign. I felt like someone else.

Mistress had thought about that, too. Smiling, She placed a simple leather collar and put it around my neck and adjusted it, so it was properly snug. I smiled; it wasn't the same, but it was light years better than having nothing there. I thanked Her profusely.

She hugged me tightly to Her. "I am going to miss you like crazy, slut, but I'm thrilled for you to have this chance. Have a great time and be the good girl you always are."

I nodded, holding on for dear life, still sobbing a little into Her shoulder.

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I had never flown first class before. The only time I'd seen the first-class section on planes was a brief glimpse during boarding. And those were domestic flights -- the only thing that differentiated first class was two wider seats across instead of three crummy coach seats, better food, actual utensils, and (I'd been told) free booze.

Today's first class on transcontinental flights is a different and awesome experience. I was seated in my own little mini suite, with a door, a seat that folds flat to a full-length bed, a huge entertainment screen, a beautiful table, and among other luxuries, a staff of flight attendants completely devoted to my comfort and satisfaction.

Then there was the food. I got to choose from a wide variety of options, and I got to decide

when

I would eat.

As I sat there, gazing out the window at nothing but pitch black, feet up on the ottoman, the thought occurred to me that I was in the midst of the anti-flying experience. This flight was the antithesis of what most of us have come to regard air travel as being.

I glanced at the menu, more excited about the idea of it than about eating any particular thing right now. My mind wandered to the people who flew this way all the time, and presumably how their whole lives were a first-class trip. I wondered if that really was the best way to go through life.

Just then, a beautiful flight attendant sweetly asked me if I would like to order food now, or perhaps needed assistance in converting the seat to bed mode.

Maybe this

was

the way to go through life.

I laughed to myself. No, not for me. I needed to serve. Being served by people who were being paid to wait on me was fine, now and then, but it wasn't a life I wanted, understood, or desired.

My fingers went up and gently touched the leather collar, forgetting for a moment that the steel wasn't there. But even the touch of leather was comforting.

I got up and the flight attendant was there. I told her that yes, I would like to convert the seat to bed mode. She smiled and very efficiently did so. I slid my door closed, slipped off most of my clothes, put on the thoughtfully provided sleeping robe, and within seconds I was asleep.