As ever, my gratitude goes out to Estragon for his work as my editor.
"And if you could just sign here, here, here and...here," Sarah Bolton, owner and Managing Director of Executive Fantasies, handed the form to Jennifer Harris, her latest client, pointing to the crosses which indicated the places where her signature was required. She also passed across her Mont Blanc fountain pen; nothing but the best from ExF.
Jennifer skimmed through the pages, confirming that the contract was exactly the same as the one she had had thoroughly checked out earlier. She hadn't made her way to the top without carefully reading the small print; and this contract, albeit a very private one, was not going to escape her usual scrutiny. Flicking through the pages, she thought about how she had ended up here, purchasing, at great expense, this weekend of escape.
In the decade or so since she had left collage she had been successful, successful beyond her, and everyone else's, expectations. She'd spotted a gap in the market and, with ruthless efficiency, had built up her business until her turnover was measured in eight figures. However, this success had come at a cost, a very personal cost, and amongst all the business, she never had time for relationships. Sure, she'd had one or two flings along the way, but she'd never had time to let any of them get close, close enough to divulge her real desires.
And it was these real desires that she was going to indulge now. Probably it was because she was such a control freak, because she insisted that, in every part of her business life, she was the one in control, that her fantasies were just the opposite. During the working day she was constantly in demand by those looking for her to take charge, to make the decisions, to lead the pack. As a stark contrast, in her rare moments of relaxation, she had come to dream of having someone else take control and make the decisions; she would be the led, not the leader. She would weave complex stories where she was subject to every whim and caprice of some dominant figure at whose feet she would grovel. As the years rolled by these fantasies had become more intense, more involved and her desire to act them out had become stronger and stronger. Naturally this was not a thing she could share easily. She had quite a high public profile and was hardly going to endanger her position by being indiscreet with any of her rare one-night stands.
And then Julie, a friend she'd met at a marketing conference, had, after one or two too many cocktails together, told her about 'Executive Fantasies' or 'ExF' as they preferred to be known. Julie had explained that ExF was an organisation for people who wanted, and could afford, an outlet to explore the extremes of their sexuality, to travel far outside the conventional norm, and to do so without risking shame or exposure. Julie hadn't asked too closely about Jennifer's kinks anymore than Jennifer had asked about Julie's, but there was an understanding that here was an organization that was discreet, professional, and, above all, understanding. The very next day Jennifer was on the phone to them.
It had taken a while before she had cleared the vetting procedure. ExF were very fussy about their clients and were judicious about who they would deal with. Without a personal recommendation she wouldn't have got past the front door and, even then, she was thoroughly checked out to make sure she was who she said she was. Jennifer was reassured by this; after all they weren't the only ones to have made unobtrusive enquiries.
Once the vetting process was over, she was invited to come in for an interview. This was when Jennifer had first met Sarah, who insisted on negotiating with new clients in person. For Sarah it was a chance to meet the client before the last few veils of secrecy were lifted. As for the clients, well, she knew how hard it could be for some to talk about exactly what they wanted and they appreciated the personal touch. Before the meeting Jennifer had been given a questionnaire, a list of activities, each of which she had to grade from one to five where one was 'never under any circumstances' and five was 'yes please'. The list was detailed and wide-ranging which meant that, even before they started, Sarah had a pretty good idea about what Jennifer wanted. This helped to break the ice and enabled Jennifer to be matter-of-fact as she described in some detail her dream of being kidnapped and then sold at auction as a sex slave. Sarah even pulled her up at one point, advising against being too prescriptive and suggesting that her clients often found the element of surprise helped 'spice up' the experience.
Once Sarah had gathered all the details she asked for time to put together a suitable package. She explained that a scenario as involved as the one Jennifer had described wouldn't be cheap; the auction alone required quite a few in the 'cast', and each of them would want to be paid. They agreed to meet a week later, by which time all would be ready.
Now, at the second interview, they went through the contract, dotting the 'i's and crossing the 't's. Jennifer had had time to check out all details, scrutinising all the get-outs and non-liability clauses. She had been impressed by the thorough and businesslike way it had been put together and, although she had blanched a bit when she saw the grand total, she understood that quality comes at a price.
"And here's your new identity," Sarah said as she passed over a purse which had a full set of credit cards, store cards and driving licence, all in the name of Susan Brown. Jennifer flicked through them. They looked very convincing, although she wouldn't dream of actually using any of them. Sarah had explained that, while there had to be some who were aware of her true identity, it was safest all round if this was kept to the minimum possible and, to ensure that even the cast were unaware of her true identity, the actual abduction would be done under a fake name.
"It's just in case, heaven forbid, one of the cast were to go rogue," Sarah explained. "Both parties need to reduce the risk of exposure to a minimum. Of course, when our cast are recruited they're heavily vetted but you can never be one hundred percent sure and, this way, were one of them to go to the press, you would be just another anonymous woman. Were anyone to try to trace you by using these they would hit a dead end, a false name at a false address. Funnily enough, some of our customers actually find it helpful. They find that becoming their fake identity enhances the fantasy of it all.
"OK. Just one final recap," Sarah said as she wound up the interview. "You, or rather, Susan Brown, are to be on the corner of the High St and Station Road at six thirty on Friday. You'll wear a light coloured coat and carry a copy of the local newspaper tucked under your left arm. Oh, and that Gucci umbrella of yours," Sarah pointed to the folded umbrella next to Jennifer's handbag, "carry that as well. Our operatives will 'capture' you and 'sell you into slavery' until, forty-eight hours later, on Sunday evening, when you'll be 'freed'. Your safe word is 'raspberry' and your go-slow word is 'strawberry'. If you're gagged the equivalent hand signals are...."
