Friday morning Kelly gave me a necklace made of small, gold chain links, long enough to fit around my neck, but short enough that I couldn't remove it. She locked it on using a tubular 3-digit, 4-number combination lock, like what one might find on a bicycle lock, but only an inch and a quarter long and one-third of an inch thick. Kelly explained that she purchased it online from a company named Eternity Collars. She clipped a heart pendant to the front to "remind me of her love." After I looked at it in the mirror, we both agreed that it looked like any normal necklace, which was the whole idea. Since I could not remove it, it would be a constant reminder of her ownership. Kelly dropped me off at the airport, kissed me goodbye and wished me good luck. I promised to call her as soon as I knew anything.
In addition to my new necklace, the traveling outfit Kelly selected for me was a button-front sundress, garter belt, nylons, and new black, three-inch heels. I knew I would be self-conscious about my condition, having never traveled sans underwear. Had Kelly been flying with me, I would have been much more comfortable. However, that was not to be. She did not want to use a substitute to teach the classes she had scheduled on Friday. Because of today's high security levels, she couldn't even accompany me to the gate. I had to wait alone for over an hour.
My level of apprehension was high enough that I was concerned my necklace, new rings and ID tag might set off the metal detectors. Kelly teased, I think, by saying she'd love to watch the TSA employee who would want me, then strip search me, to insure I wasn't hiding anything dangerous. When I pleaded with her to permit me to take them off long enough to go through security, she told me to stop whining or she would make me wear some additional metal to insure I would activate the metal detector. I'd just have to take the chance that my metal wouldn't set the alarm. "You simply must tell me what they say when they discover what set the metal detector off."
When we finished saying goodbye at the airport, she said, "You are going to be away from me, slut. Remember not to embarrass you Mistress with bad behavior." I chuckled to myself wondering how I could possibly do that since no one would know I even had a mistress. Still, I assured her that I wouldn't.
As it turned out, my fear was all for naught. Somehow, I breezed through security. And, luckily, I was not selected to go through the full body scanner. As I waited to board my plane, I became more comfortable about not wearing underwear even though the lack of a bra was obvious through the cotton material. "I shouldn't care," I thought. "After all, I am following the desires of my Mistress and doing what she says I really want."
I stopped by my apartment for a short interval to shower and change into the power suit Kelly packed in my carryon case: a white lace-embroidered camisole top, a grey, above-the-knee, pleated skirt, matching blazer, along with the garter belt, black nylons and heels I wore on the plane. She had also packed a black thong, but no bra. Remembering her edict, I wore the thong over the garter belt.
Arriving at my home office early Friday afternoon, I went directly to Barbara, my immediate supervisor for a short debriefing. While this was standard procedure, I really wanted to see if she knew anything about the reason for my sudden, unscheduled, meeting with the president, which was not standard. Barbara looked up from her desk when I walked into her office, stared at me for several seconds and said, "May I help you?"
Chuckling that she didn't even recognize me, I replied, "Yes, I think you might be able to, boss." We always called one another by first names, but this time I added "boss" to see her reaction.
Suddenly the light went on in her head, "Oh, my gawd, Kim, I didn't even recognize you. I don't remember seeing you in a short skirt, and you've even cut your hair. What happened to the "conservative Kim" that used to work here?"
"Oh, that Kim realized that she was too stuffy and needed an image change. Don't you like it?" Barb had always worn short skirts, so I wasn't worried that she would disapprove of the style but wondered if she considered my change to be too drastic.
"Au contraire, my dear, I absolutely love it. You look fantastic. I just didn't expect a transformation. I don't think I've ever seen your knees," she jibed. "And the heels are fab. What's with the glasses, though?" I replied that I thought they would enhance my 'new look.' She asked me to take them off for a second then agreed with me. "You look great without them, but fantastic with them, too. I think you should wear them most of the time."
"Do you think they make me look like a geek?"
"Kim, I would say that, had you worn them with your other clothes, but not now. I can honestly say you do not look like a geek. Dressed like you are, your glasses make you look, well, sexy."
I then asked about the afternoon meeting. "Yes, Kim, I do know what it is about, but I promised Mr. Fields I wouldn't say anything."
"Is it good or bad?"
"That depends on your perspective. Some people fear a promotion while others consider a layoff to simply be a new challenge. Come on, Kim. We've worked together too long. You're not going to trap me into giving you one single hint what he wants to tell you." Damn! Using both promotion and layoff in her analogy didn't help.
"Do you have anything pressing to take care of in your office before you see him?"
"No, I've been keeping my reports up to date through the net. I may have a few emails to answer, but that's about all."
"Great, then we can go to lunch. It may be better if you meet with Mr. Fields after a glass of wine and on a full stomach." I couldn't decide if she was teasing me or not. Her comment certainly didn't calm my nerves, but the wine might help.
I was pleased when Barb said she needed to use the restroom while we were waiting for our table. I had to call Kelly so she could tell me what to eat for lunch. "Good morning, My Mistress," I whispered.
"Hi, pet. Where are you?" I gave her the name of the restaurant and said I was dining with Barb and explained our professional relationship. "What time is your meeting with Mr. Fields?" I told her and wondered how she knew his name, because I didn't remember mentioning it to her. I picked up the menu and read off several items that interested me. "Do they have a spinach salad?" she asked. I replied that they did. "Great. Order that with hot vinegar dressing."
"May I have something to drink, Mistress?"
"Do you mean an alcoholic beverage?"
"Yes, ma'am. Barb suggested I might need a glass of wine before my meeting."
"Then you may. You seem to have forgotten that you must be specific when making a request."
"Yes, ma'am, I understand. I apologize."
"I think a Manhattan will be perfect, instead of wine. Only one, though."
"Thank you, Mistress."
