Sub U

Chapter One-2

He pictured Bobbie dressed that way on their wedding night. He would have already purchased and hidden all the paraphernalia somehow before the wedding. When they got to their hotel room, he’d tell Bobbie what she was expected to do. She’d emerge from the bathroom, dressed in a white corset and veil just like the woman in the magazine. He’d order her to get on her hands and knees on the edge of the bed, and he’d inspect her p***y to make sure it was entirely hairless and silky to the touch. He’d tell her she was a good girl, and because she’d done what he asked, he would reward her by licking her clit from behind for so long that she’d be screaming for him to enter her. He’d have her on her hands and knees all right, and grab her hair in one hand, and swat her ass over and over with the other. And every light in the room would be on, even though she hated it. He’d pump so hard in and out of her ass…

He threw the magazine as far as he could across the room. He was breathing heavily, and took a huge gulp of scotch to calm himself. After a few minutes, he rose and walked toward the magazine, which was splayed open on the hearth by the fireplace. Upon picking it up, he saw that a couple of the pages had torn. He returned to his desk, sat down, and attempted to repair the damage with tape. A small card inserted snugly between the two pages caught his eye. The print was so small he had to put on his reading glasses to make out the message. When even that didn’t help, he dug around in the desk drawer and found his grandfather’s old magnifying glass. As a boy, Dayton had begged him for so many years to let him have it, it had become a game between them. Then one day, for no apparent reason, upon asking for it for about the hundredth time, his grandfather casually handed it to him with an amused smile.

He wondered if his father or grandfather had ever had these kinds of feelings before they married. Whoa, Dayton thought, now that would be just a little too much information.

He pulled the desk lamp closer. With the magnifying glass held over the card, he read:

When her obedience is key

Call 1-800-555-SUBU

Confidentiality guaranteed

“Her obedience,” he whispered.

Just saying the word made his c**k bounce slightly.

“Obedience.”

“Obedience,” he said, his slight erection responding once more.

He looked at the clock on the wall and thought of calling just to see if it was a working number, and if maybe there was a recording that might tell him something about the company. Was it even a company? What if a recording asked that he leave a message? If so, what the hell did one say? What if he dialed, though, and actually woke someone up at two in the morning? He could always just hang up, but caller i.d. would ensure they could call him back. They might ask him just what the hell kind of desperate loser he was, calling people at all hours of the night. He saw himself getting flustered and hanging up on them again. Then they’d make note of his number and probably refuse to talk to him the next day when he called during business hours. His phone number would be passed out to all the employees in their sales meeting that morning and they’d warn the others about him, laughing and . . .

“Stop watching so many movies,” he mumbled to himself.

He placed the small card in a side pocket of his briefcase. When he finished taping the damaged pages, he returned the magazines to their hiding place and turned the key in the lock. He straightened up his desk a bit, made sure to hide the key, swallowed the rest of his scotch in one gulp, and turned off the desk lamp.

“Obedience,” he said, smiling. “That’s the ticket.”

***

The next morning at work, Dayton glanced at his watch so many times, he began to annoy himself. After a while, he knew he wasn’t even making note of the time, but rechecked his watch yet again a few minutes later. He reminded himself that he was the chief financial officer of this company, and he could damned well make a private phone call any time he chose. What was so difficult about walking over to his office door, catching the attention of his secretary, telling her he didn’t want to be disturbed, closing and locking his door, and making a damned private phone call? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t done it a hundred times before. This time, however, he felt as if she’d just know he was up to something fishy and weird. No doubt she’d smell his lie from a mile away, and then press her ear up against his office door and . . .

“God, you are so pathetic!” he said, shaking his head.

“What did you say, sir?”

His secretary, Jan, was standing in front of his desk, holding a small stack of folders.

“Oh, I ...I didn’t ...sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, trying to strike a relaxed pose.

“Are you okay, sir?” she said.

“Do you have something you want me to sign?” he asked.

“Just the usual,” she said, looking at him oddly.

Now he knew he looked like a total i***t. He knew what the folders were, and he knew he had to sign off on the transactions, and she was just bringing the papers he signed off on every Monday, and now she really did know that he was up to no good and was sitting in here by himself not working, but doing suspicious things in his office, and…

“Well, if there’s nothing else, sir, I think I’ll be going to lunch now.”

“Sure. Sure,” he said. “Take all the time you need.”

Jan’s right eyebrow arched almost imperceptibly. She studied him for a few moments before turning and walking out of his office. He kept his eyes on the door and waited until he saw her step into the elevator with her purse and disappear behind the closing doors. Dayton jumped up and strode to the door, closed and locked it, and returned to his desk. He pulled his cell phone and the advertisement from his briefcase. He dialed the number, and his heart began to pound slightly as the ringing began. After about ten rings, not even a recorded message had kicked in. He waited five more rings and decided to disconnect.

“Yes?” a faint voice said.

“Yes?” he said, readjusting the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” a quiet, female voice replied.

“Uh, yes,” he said, looking down at the card. “Is this one, eight-hundred, five-five-five, um, sooboo?”

“I think you mean Sub U, sir.”

“So this is right?” he asked.

“Is what right, sir?” she asked, coolly.

“The number. Is that the number?”

“Yes,” she said.

There was a heavy silence between them. “So, is there anyone I could talk to?” he asked.

“What is it you want, sir?”

“The ad. I saw a card, I mean. Just what is it you’re selling?”

“Please hold for a moment, sir.”

He sighed, and considered hanging up. It already sounded like this company, if that’s what it even was, had its head irretrievably far up its ass. But just as he was ready to disconnect the call, a confident, friendly male voice came on the line.

“What can I do to help you, my friend?”

He recognized the type of voice. It was the voice of someone who was used to being listened to —someone used to convincing others. The voice belonged to a person who had been aware of that gift for a long while.

“Yes, I, uh, your ad,” Dayton said, knowing he sounded like an i***t.

“You found one of our cards, right?” said Confident Voice.

“Yes, in the middle of the night, I —” he said, sure he was reinforcing his idiocy.

“And you think we might be offering just what you need. Am I right, my friend?”

“I’m not exactly sure what you offer, but it sure sounds like, sure.”

It sure sounds like sure? God, this man must think I’m a total moron.

“Obedience from your woman. That’s what you want. Am I right?” said Confident Voice.

“I’m getting married. Things aren’t good, exactly. I mean, they’re good, but they’re not really what I want. I want things to be good, but I don’t really understand, because she’s a good woman, and anyone would probably be happy to have her as a wife, but I ...it’s not like she’s even doing anything wrong, you know?”

“She’s not doing anything wrong necessarily, but she’s not doing what you want,” Confident Voice stated.

Dayton exhaled heavily and relaxed in his chair. “How did you know that?”

“It’s my job, my friend. It’s my job.”

“So, you can, what, make her?”

“Before we proceed, what may I call you?”

“Dayton’s fine,” he said. “Whoa, wait—”

“You don’t have to worry about giving your real name, Dayton. Before this is over, I’m going to know quite a lot about you.”

“But I’m in a position—”

“You hold a highly visible position and are certain that if this ever got out, it would ruin you. Am I correct?”

“Yes,” Dayton said.

“All of our clients are in the same boat as you. And don’t you think we also worry about exposure?” asked Confident Voice. “The card stated that we guarantee confidentiality, and we mean it. If we had failed in that regard even once, we’d be out of business.”

“What do I call you?” Dayton asked.

“Call me Travis. And, no, that is not my real name.”

“Fair enough, Travis.” .

“Still interested so far?” Travis asked.

“Interested, yes, but—”

“But you have so many questions you don’t know where to begin.”

“You’ve obviously done this a few times.”

“As I said, it’s my job. Before we go any further, there is one requirement,” Travis said. “Have you told your fiancée?”

“Told her about this? You have to be kidding!”

“Not about this phone call. You need to tell her you’re not satisfied with the status quo and that you want a different dynamic in your relationship. Spell it out to her and see what her reaction is. There’s nothing worse for us than working with a woman who hasn’t even been told there was a problem. At least give her a chance to change. Don’t you think you owe her that?”

A wave of dread came over him. How the hell was he to tell Bobbie that he wanted to renegotiate the terms of their relationship? Here they’d plodded along quite nicely the last year or so with both of them falling into a rhythm that allowed them to coexist peacefully, and without the drama he’d grown to hate in his other relationships. They were to be married in six months, and he was going to throw a huge wrench in the works. And what would he say? Change or the wedding’s off? Was that even what he wanted? God, he hadn’t even sorted through where these urges were coming from, or what exact shape he wanted their relationship to take. All he knew was that the nagging need for so much more from their s*x life just wouldn’t go away. But how would he know what to say, really? To whom could he even talk about such things? He could see it now: he and his colleague Preston having lunch at the club:

“Say there, Preston, I want to spank Bobbie. You ever do that? And do you ever tie up your little Mrs. and make her take it up the ass?”

“Why sure, Dayton. All the time! I’m surprised you’re even asking. Don’t tell me you and Bobbie don’t—”

“Talk to me, my friend,” Travis said.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize I’d—”

“I know what you’re wrestling with here. But let’s cut to the chase. Your situation may feel more complicated to you because you have a wedding pending, but what you’re facing if you decide to do nothing is possibly the rest of your life—the rest of your life— in an arrangement that doesn’t satisfy you.”

Dayton sighed.

“Does that help put it in perspective?” Travis asked.

“I think it does, yes.”

“So, go talk to her and we’ll go from there,” Travis said. “Then call me back.”

“Call you back.”

“Yes, and the next time you call, mention client number seven ninety-eight and the receptionist will put you right through to me.”

“Seven ninety-eight? You’ve had that many clients?”

“Yes, and you probably know some of them, Dayton.”

“I have about a thousand questions,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.

“I know you do. One step at a time. Talk to her.”

***

Dayton thought of very little else the rest of the week. He’d casually asked Bobbie if she’d like to go to Le Grille early Friday evening, and she’d excitedly said yes. Not only was it her favorite restaurant, but it was surely a setting in which they’d both be forced to remain calm and, more important, she’d pretty much have to keep her ass planted in her chair and listen. If he talked to her about this at home, it would be too easy for her to grab her car keys and disappear for several hours, or longer, depending on how long she thought it might take for him to return to his senses.