Bidding War (28 page)

I laughed. "Could we practice?"

"Yes. Hmm. Let me see if I can get into character."

Her tone changed, and I could tell it pained her, but she played the part of a client with a deep hatred for Keynes. I took a moderate position and didn't argue with her, but presented
a position that would perhaps nudge her to a less extreme position.

"Okay, I can't do that anymore," she said, laughing. "You did all right. A little rough, but that's to be expected. Was Keynes right about everything?"

"Of course not. No one is right about everything. But he wasn't wrong about everything, either." I paused. "It is inconvenient to the pocketbooks of some people to believe that governments can moderate financial swings through careful financial policies, but the reality is a major government can do an awful lot to moderate the swings. If you believe in minimal government, the thought is anathema."

"Exactly. So the truth?"

"Somewhere in the middle, where truth usually lies." I paused. "I believe in Keynes far more than Friedman." I paused. "Do clients care about all this when dealing with us? We're there to make money for them, not help define fiscal policy."

"You are expected to be the ultimate expert, and clients frequently will test you based on their own, oftentimes flawed views of reality."

We talked for a while longer. While we were talking, I mailed her a copy of my resume, and she told me she'd verify ten AM on Tuesday and email directions. As we were wrapping up, I thanked her profusely.

"Make me proud, Pamela," she said. "I don't do this very often, but I have a great deal of confidence in you."

* * *

I got off the phone and realized I was sweating. And amazingly excited. I called Moira.

"Thank you thank you thank you!"

She laughed. "Good call with Andi?"

I told her about it.

"I am proud of you, honey."

"I don't have a job offer yet," I warned her.

"Andi has never done this for anyone before."

I shut up.

"Did I lose you?" Moira asked after a second.

"She said she doesn't do it very often."

"I guess once would qualify as not very often."

I thought about it. "Is she doing this for you?"

"No. I talked to her about it. She is impressed. She wants you with her firm. She said if you were willing to move to Chicago, she would already have hired you based on your conversation last week. She doesn't supervise any new employees, but if her managers didn't want you, she'd supervise you directly."

I started to cry.

"Oh honey," Moira said.

I cried quietly while Moira made soothing sounds. "I can be there in twenty minutes, honey."

"I'll be okay," I said, sniffling. "Why? Eight years at the bank. I've applied all over town, and I couldn't get a second interview anywhere. I've applied to Andi's firm. I got a form letter rejection. Why?"

"I don't know," she said quietly.

"What if Ryan doesn't like me?"

"I have more contacts. So does Andi."

I took a deep breath. "Positive thoughts. She got me an interview, inside track, and I suspect a VP in Chicago still carries a lot of weight in Minneapolis. I also suspect she has me well-prepped for this interview."

"Exactly," agreed Moira. "She told me you're a shoe-in, if you don't get cocky."

"So tell
ing me I'm a shoe-in may not have been a good idea?"

We laughed together.

We talked for another hour before hanging up.

* * *

Gwendolyn and Moira both called me Thursday evening to verify our respective dates.

Gwendolyn told me she had bought new rope. She told me about surgeon's knots. She went on and on about how she could secure someone's limbs so she would be comfortable, but completely immobile. She wondered aloud how the rope would feel against bare skin, and how it might feel to be completely open and vulnerable to her. She wondered what her touch might feel like.

"If you think you're making me squirm," I told her. "You're not." She was, but I wasn't ready to admit it."

"Oh, I was just talking," she said. "Are your nipples hard?"

"No. Of course not. What a silly question."

"Are you sure? Maybe you should feel them and tell me."

"I am doing no such thing," I told her. In reality, I was doing just that, now that she mentioned it. I had a blouse and bra in the way, and my touch wasn't very satisfactory.

"You might get a better feel if you took your blouse off," she told me.

"Did you set up a video camera in my house while I wasn't looking?"

She laughed. "Phone sex is more fun if you participate, Pamela."

I decided it was time to turn the tables. "Are your nipples hard, Gwendolyn?"

"Yes, and I am wet just thinking about you."

I think I moaned. No, certainly not.

I heard her smirk, I swear I did. I decided to give it another try.

"You should unbutton your slacks and see how wet you are," I suggested.

"I'm not wearing any slacks, Pamela," she said. "I am on my bed with the lights dimmed. I am wearing nothing but a
pair of panties. I got undressed before calling you. I have my rope here next to me, ready to bring to your home tomorrow. Do you think I have a nice figure?"

"Oh god," I said.

"Does that mean 'yes'?"

"Yes, Gwendolyn, you have an amazing figure."

"Thank you," she said. "That means a lot to me." I heard her gasp.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think I am doing?" she asked me.

"You aren't!"

"What do you think I am doing?" she repeated.

"Touching yourself."

"Where am I touching?"

"Your, you know. Place."

She laughed. "My place?"

"Your. Um."

"Can't you say it? You have the same things I have. I'm a doctor. You can say it. I won't be shocked."

"Your clitoris," I said. "Okay. Your clitoris."

"Oh, I'm not touching that," she said. She gasped again. "I was earlier. Where do you think my fingers are now?"

"Oh god."

"No, not there."

"Stop it."

"Why would I do that? It feels good, and as a doctor I can assure you that a healthy sex life is a contributing factor to a healthy life."

"You're trying to tease me."

"Am I? Where are your fingers, Pamela? Where are you touching, right now?"

"I'm not."

"Have you unbuttoned your blouse?"

"Oh god."

"You have, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure it's in the way," she said. "So is your bra. You can set the phone down and take them off. I'll wait."

"No."

"Why are you fighting me, Pamela? You know you want to do exactly what I tell you to do."

"Gwendolyn, stop." She was right. I definitely wanted to do what she said. It scared me.

"Oh Pamela," she said softly. "You don't want me to stop, do you?"

"No," I said quietly. "I'm scared."

"Why?" she asked gently. "I wouldn't ever hurt you."

"I know," I said.

"How often do you touch yourself? How often do you give yourself orgasms?"

"I don't know," I told her.

"Daily?"

"No!"

"Weekly?"

"No," but I said it more softly.

"Monthly?" She sounded sad when she said it.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Probably."

"Pamela, I will make a deal with you."

"What kind of deal."

"If I ask a question, you may choose not to answer it, or you may tell the truth. No lying."

"I wouldn't lie to you."

"In exchange, until we decide to get off the phone, I will do anything you tell me to do."

"I don't have to do anything, I just have to be honest, but you'll do what I tell you?"

"Yep. You have to promise."

"Promise."

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked immediately.

"No," I said in a small voice.

"Set the phone down and take off your blouse and bra, Pamela."

"I don't have to," I said, smiling.

"No," she said. "You don't. But you want to, don't you. You want to do what I tell you to do. You know it will feel good. It makes you excited to think about doing what I tell you to do, doesn't it?"

I sighed. "Yes."

"You know you are always safe with me."

"Yes."

"You know you need this, don't you?"

I didn't answer that.

"You don't have to answer that to me," Gwendolyn said. "It's enough to answer it to yourself. Pamela, take off your blouse and bra."

"All right," I said after a small pause. "Give me a moment."

I set the phone down on the bed and slipped out of my blouse and set it aside, then unlatched the bra and let it join the blouse. Then I picked up the phone.

"Done."

"Very good. Are you in your bedroom?"

"Yes."

"Turn the lights down so they aren't too bright."

"You have to do something now first."

"What?"

"I want you to use that rope and tie your legs together."

She was silent. I started grinning. I thought perhaps I had just wrested control of the conversation from her.

"That's not my thing," she said eventually.

"Phone sex isn't mine. Tell me what you're doing while you do it. I'm going to get up and light some candles."

"You are very naughty," she said. "All right. I am taking the rope and unbundling it." She sighed. "I just made a mess of it. This is going to take a minute to untangle."

I got off the bed, dug a lighter out of my dresser, and lit several candles around the room, then turned off all the lights. "I am in candle light now."

"Are you wearing slacks or a skirt?"

"Slacks."

"Take them off. If you're too uncomfortable, switch into a skirt."

"All right," I said. "A skirt."

"Not a pencil skirt."

I laughed. "Once of my flowing dance skirts."

"Perfect." There was a pause, then she said, "The rope is untangled. I am now finding the exact center of the rope."

I walked to my closet, slipping out of my jeans with one hand while holding the phone.

"How are you doing this while on the phone?"

"Bluetooth headset," she said. "I found the center and am doubling the rope at that point." She paused. "Do you want my legs tightly together or ankles crossed and my kneed spread?"

"Knees spread," I said. "I wouldn't want to deny you access anywhere."

She laughed softly. I picked a skirt and tried to slither into it. "Second. Pulling the skirt up." I set her down and pulled the skirt up, zipping it, then picked the phone back up. "Okay, climbing back onto the bed."

"My ankles are crossed, Pamela," she said in a soft voice. "I am thinking about doing this to you. I am wrapping the rope around my ankles." There was a pause. "Now I am drawing the two loose ends through the bight."

"Bight?"

"Where I folded the rope in half, it makes a loop." She paused. "Pulling it taut, then wrapping the two ends back around my ankles." Pause. "Then between my legs and around my ankles and between my feet." Pause. "Around. Around the other way. Around. And now tying it off. Done."

"Does that excite you?" I asked her, trying to maintain the upper hand.

"Thinking about you tied like this does," she said. "Have you ever been tied up before?"

"No. Does-"

"But you've thought about it, haven't you?"

I decided she was desperate to maintain control."

"Only recently."

"How recently?"

"Since you made me watch that movie?"

"Not since the car ride home?"

I
laughed. "Okay, maybe then too. Using both hands, pinch your nipples and tell me what it feels like."

"My nipples are already hard," she said. "I've been playing with them." She gasped. "I imagined your teeth, and I really liked it. Are your nipples engorged?"

"Yes." I paused, trying to think of the next thing to do, but she didn't give me a chance.

"What do you want me to do with you once your ankles are tied?" she asked.

"I don't want to answer that," I told her.

She sighed. "Did you just lie to me?"