Before reading: Please note that this story has a steady pace, and there isn't a great deal of sex of any kind until about a third of the way through.
It also has themes that won't appeal to everyone. If you're not keen on femdom then there's a chance you won't enjoy the story. The man in this story is gradually subjugated by dynamic women.
*****
"I'm fed up to the ears with old men dreaming up wars for young men to die in."
George S. McGovern - American historian and politician
1
The couch was more comfortable than its stiff lines made it seem. Jon sat back for a moment to take in the open and sleek office around him. Men and women wearing pallid greys hovered noiselessly in the mid-distance. A clean-cut man with rimless glasses nodded hello to him on the way to his desk.
Jon responded awkwardly. He felt scruffy. It wasn't just his stubble, plaid shirt and jeans; it was an internal untidiness that dawned on him. He was in an unfamiliar world, and he might have been worried that he didn't belong had he not already ruled out ever joining it.
He unfolded his copy of G2 and hadn't read a sentence before someone interrupted delicately.
"Would you like a cup of tea or coffee Mr Roeder?"
It was a lad straight out of school, but immaculately presented like everyone else around here.
"Uh, no thanks."
Jon saw his chance to get a bit more information. "But could you tell me a sec - what does Mr Fournier do here?"
Amused incredulity flashed across the kid's face. When he saw Jon was serious he composed himself and said, "Well, he's a project manager. Have you heard of SwiftRail? The Maglev project? He's coordinating the whole thing. He flew back from a meeting in Germany to..."
"Just to see me? Bloody hell."
A few paragraphs later, Edward Fournier came out, shook Jon's hand, patted his arm with brotherly warmth and led him to his office. London rolled out in the window behind Fournier's desk, one green bend of the Thames and the dark glass and chrome of the city. The office and Fournier's desk were bare. It didn't look he spent much time here.
Jon put Fournier in his late-30s. His brown hair was neatly parted and trimmed to precision. There were flecks of grey above his ears, his high cheekbones were supporting dark, powdery eyes that betrayed an all-nighter, or overnight travel. He had a faintly deferential aspect towards Jon, which Jon guessed not many people round here had seen.
This was not an interview, and while Jon assumed that many a candidate had sat before Fournier desperate to make a good impression, this encounter would be very different. Jon would ask the questions, and this man of real status would spend the next hour doing his best to convince.
"Yes, SwiftRail - essentially an underground vacuum tube between London and Manchester. 15-minute journey times, totally sustainable, no fossil fuels, countless jobs created. And above ground the old railway line will become a new national trail for walkers. The idea wasn't mine, but I fought fucking hard for it."
Fournier addressed the matter at hand.
"It's three weeks. Something like a boot camp, but they won't be shouting at you like a drill sergeant or anything like that."
"Although you will get in shape. You do a lot of exercise, but there's a spiritual side as well. Funny, I never thought it would be so hard to explain..." He took a deep breath before starting over. "So you go to this lovely country estate and the days just fly by. There's no time to dwell on doubts or get homesick."
"Does it work?"
"Oh yes," Fournier insisted. "You get in great shape, and you learn so much about yourself, without even trying. I bet you've been selected for the same reason as me - headhunted because of your situation and outlook on life. I reckon there are a lot of people like us, who have talent and are clearly intelligent, but are...well, rudderless. I see them every few months when we interview a new batch of graduates. No spirit; no passion. Sorry."
Jon shrugged. Fournier had his number.
"This..." Fournier made a circling motion around the office with his finger, "might not be your dream, but it's mine for sure. After my three weeks on the program everything was so clear. A few years later I'm the youngest guy leading these projects. Infrastructure, affordable housing, parks; things that transform places and really improve people's lives."
"Just knowing what you want to do and caring enough to go for it. That's the trick to a great career. It's as simple as pinpointing that goal. If you're smart enough, and I think we are, the rest is easy. And you'll find all this out."
"That's what those women..." Fournier corrected himself, "... and men - guys, know how to do. If you work hard and throw yourself into the program it will be over before you know it, and all the while you'll be getting amazing insights about who you are. It's intense - christ, I've said all this already - and it's so focussed because you're the only one there."
"But why the secrecy? I mean, I bumped into Alice at a career's fair. I guess she was my headhunter. But there's nothing online; no email. Well, I had doubts"
"They may have been watching you for a while. That's just how they work. Kind of refreshing isn't? It's a charitable, altruistic organisation, and there's simply an understanding to keep it low-key and avoid the wrong kind of attention. I suppose you can think of me as a customer endorsement. But wait", Edward said with a friendly chuckle as he mimicked the old infomercial spiel, "...don't take my word for it. I've got a few numbers of other alumni on my phone."
And just as he picked the phone up it rang in his hand. Fournier glanced at the screen and tightened, visibly. "Excuse me, I have to take this."