Mistress Maggie

Finally, the day of the interview arrived, and I had, as they said in some rather idiotic human resource circulars, 'dressed for success'. I once again asked my sisters for help, but this time I wanted their input on what would impress an older woman in the way of male attire. I had on a light brown 3 piece brooks brother's suit, gold and blue pinstriped pure cotton shirt, one of my Dad's coordinated silk ties from what he'd left at the house when he split to go live with his girlfriend. And just enough old spice to make the deal. If she showed up, I was going to be ready, damn it!

When the interview day came, and as I knew I would not be interviewing anywhere else, I simply took a seat next to the TSC booth and waited. Eventually, after my name was called, I got up slowly and moved to the 'hot seat' as my classmates were now referring to it. According to all those who went before me, this was the toughest interview in the room.

But as my interviewer came over and sat down in front of me, my heart dropped, it was a typically pointy-haired manager type, right out of the pages of Dilbert. The questions he was asking were hardly inspiring either, but eventually I got him turned around on his question list and started into some of my own. All of them about the projects I'd seen listed with their Systems Analyst Group, suddenly I saw him grabbing for an earpiece that I hadn't seen before, and stuttering into what must have been a microphone embedded within it.

"Um... yes ma'am... Thomas, I'd like to ask you a... of course... I-I w-will,"

Now the questions were getting tough... someone else was asking them, that was for sure, but could it be...? I was finally asked to leave all my contact information and told the interview was over, even though the pointy-haired manager guy simply got up in a huff and walked away. As I put my notes into my briefcase that I had left on the seat I was in before, I carefully glanced at the PC that had its camera aimed at the 'hot seat', and there under the main Skype screen was the image of a platinum-haired woman that had been frozen after she had logged off. I'm sure most people that watched me leave that day, saw the goofiest smile I'd probably ever had.

But as I was leaving the cafeteria, after my interview, I heard 'the voice' for the first time. It was usually below a whisper in volume, almost impossible to hear. I didn't know if I should mention it to anyone, the hearing of 'voices' probably wasn't a good symptom to have no matter what might be causing it. But it wasn't like I was having a conversation with an invisible partner either. Whatever I said was ignored, and each time it was the same man's voice... This time he simply 'said'...

"I Miss her so much,"

And it was followed by the fading sound of... well... sobbing.

***

It was three weeks later, just after our spring break that my guidance counselor walked up to me in the hall, wearing a big grin on his face.

"Huntsley?" he said to get my attention, "You'll be getting official notification by mail from the TSC human resources manager, but I just wanted to congratulate you, they picked you for their available summer intern position!"

"Wow!" I finally managed to spit out, "I-I just... ya know... wow... Thanks, thanks a lot."

It didn't take long for it to get around the school that I'd be going to work this summer for one of the top medical device manufacturers in the country. But anytime someone mentioned it, I only saw HER face... and I knew she was the only one for me. But I suppose I should have known that, like so many things in life, the level of difficulty in achieving any goal is directly related to its accessibility. And getting close to someone like Magdalyn was going to be an impossible task. Certainly figuring out a way to start was every bit the most impossible job of all. Frustrated beyond my young ability to cope... and for the first time since laying eyes on Magdalyn... I began to feel like I should quit trying to become involved with this beautiful older woman, just be glad to have a good summer job and let her go.

How ridiculous, an 18 year old high school graduate falling in love with a woman easily twice his age, and somehow expecting that love to be returned... because... why? Because I had a great body? Charming wit? High-class connections? I had none of those things... quite the opposite in fact, so what made me so bloody sure I would eventually catch her eye and make her fall in love with me? After a couple sleepless nights with such questions bouncing around in my head, I had finally made up my mind to give up on my pursuit of Magdalyn, until... it was back again, barely audible even in the dead quiet of my bedroom...

"She needs us Tom... She will need you... soon,"

"Ahhhggg!" I screamed into my pillow, "What the... who the FUCK ARE YOU!"

My head was pounding and if I wasn't sure about my mental stability before, I knew I was in serious trouble now... but again, no one replied. I didn't know if I even wanted a conversation, or would I be going further down some crazy rabbit hole? Let me see, what had the voice said... she would need me. She would need me for what? Who was 'she'? It must mean Magdalyn, but how would... could... she ever need me? And the final insult... nobody called me Tom except my father, it was the reason I always insisted on being called Thomas.

I released a loud sigh and threw my pillow across the room. I'd always wondered if there might be another personality inside of me trying to get out, but I'd always thought of it as a female. This voice was unfamiliar, but it was most definitely male. SO... I was losing my marbles thinking I'm hearing... who... God? Oh great... now I'm a prophet. Thinking about this was just making everything worse, but my bottom line hadn't changed, I was as deeply in love with her today as I was that first day I saw her... so I resolved to keep trying to get close to her.

***

What I discovered on my very first day as a summer intern for TSC was that Magdalyn had indeed been involved with my hiring, but that I would not be involved with any of the projects that she was responsible for. I had had so many plans and fantasies leading up to that day, and in an instant they were reduced to smoke and ashes. My boss would be the Dilbert-like pointy-haired boss, and I went home that night depressed and ready to quit the next morning.

But the other more important lesson I learned, was 'don't give up hope'. After getting into my cubicle at 8:30am, my boss gave me my daily list of crap that he wanted me to do, with his usual shit-eating grin. Then into my little space walked the goddess Athena, and she was talking directly to... ME!

"Good morning Thomas," she greeted me, "I wanted to just stop by and say welcome to the TSC team, and I'm sure you'll be a valuable part of that team! So thank you for accepting our summer position, and if you need anything... anything at all, my door's always open."

"Ma-Ma... Um... Ms. O'Shea!" I sputtered out, "Thank you... thanks so much!"

She and I went to shake hands, and we both received the largest shock of static electricity that either one of us had ever experienced. I actually felt my hand go numb!

"Oh my!" Magdalyn exclaimed, "What was THAT! I've never felt a shock like that before, we'll have to get someone in to look at this... that big of a shock could damage a computer! Are you alright Thomas?"

"Yeah," I replied, somewhat stunned, "I've never felt anything like it either, but again... thank you for this opportunity Ms. O'Shea."

"No problem," she said, continuing to stroke her shocked hand, she then picked up the list my boss had left, and with her eyes narrowing asked, "And please call me Maggie, okay? ...Um... Stephan? ...What IS all this?"

"Oh... well, ah... just his dailies," he replied, suddenly on the spot, "You know ...basics."

"...coffee... donuts," she chided my pointy-haired boss, "...laundry ...LAUNDRY? Stephan, would you please see me in my office for a moment... Thomas... please excuse us?"

My daily tasks were much more data processing related after that, and I didn't see much of my pointy-haired boss after that. But unfortunately... I never saw Magdalyn much after that either, and I began to realize that if I was going to make any of those fantasies I'd been thinking of come true, I would have to take the bull by the horns and start working on them myself.

I decided to go back to the internet, I had a much better connection from the office, and had the pick of the office servers to use for sending out spiders if I needed to search for information. So I decided to look for background on Magdalyn, to see if I could find any link between us that I might use to bring us closer. And immediately found another axiom to be very true. 'Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it'.

It had been a badly written search spider that returned it, and I nearly dismissed it. But as it was the only link that any of my searches found that night, I decided I might as well open it. It was a link to a story about a Philadelphia nightclub, or sex club, called 'Sisters' that had held an anniversary protest march after a raid in the seventies sent dozens of transsexuals to the hospital. There, in the story's lead picture, laughing at the head of the line, was a statuesque woman with platinum curls... Magdalyn. The link actually came from a Facebook account for someone named 'Sugar Crisp Nona'. A chill went down my back, Magdalyn had been involved with a sex club, a sex club used by transsexuals... now I knew I HAD to find out more about this woman, and voice be damned... absolutely nothing and no one was going to stop me.

That night, after getting home and having supper with the family, I went up to my PC and logged into my Facebook account. I sent a friend request to this 'Sugar Crisp Nona', and was surprised to get a response almost instantly! I started an IM (instant message) with her...

"Well, well Mr. Fancy Pants, lol!" she started.

"Hi Nona, I'm looking for information on someone that I saw in an article you had on your Facebook account, named Magdalyn O'Shea. Do you know her?

I assumed the 'fancy pants' reference was about my tuxedo pants I was wearing in my profile picture taken at the wedding of my oldest sister that spring. But now there was a long pause...

"Oh shit... you mean Maggie?"

"Um... yeah, could be, I'm writing a story on the 'Sisters' and I've seen her name come up a number of times in past stories." (I lied).

"Ha! If you gonna write about the 'Sisters', you have to write about Maggie."

"Well I guess you'd be a good person for me to start with then?"

"Honey, you're too cute to just text with... tells you what, you come on down to 'Sisters' tonight and we'll 'talk', okay?"

"Um... okay, how will I find you?"

"Oh you ARE cute... aren't you? Come up to the 3rd floor. Keep your ID out, you'll need to show it again, go past the first BDSM suite, and the lockers. The third pair of doors will open wide for your favorite fantasies baby... I'm here from four in the afternoon until two in the morning, and I'm never closed for business... see u soon!"

I couldn't imagine what I'd just opened myself up for, a sex club now, I was beginning to think that Maggie's eyes had pushed me over the edge, maybe I should just leave this alone, after all I did get to see her at work... but as it was, I knew I could never win her over. No... I would need to see Nona... and finally see how far down this rabbit hole I was really willing to go.

***

I'd had dreams and fantasies about bondage ever since puberty, and one in particular, always had me bound to a chair in a garden, dressed in a white dress with puffy sleeves, white lace gloves, white petticoats, hose and Baby Janes. I never told anyone about these dreams, always afraid of what they might think of me. I was bound with white nylon cord wrapped around my chest, tying me to the back of the chair, around my forearms to the chairs arms, then several loops were around my thighs, just above the knees. These loops were tightened with two smaller loops between my thighs that went around the main loops, and compressed them so that the loops could not possibly shift down my legs. Similarly, several more loops went around my ankles, with a couple smaller loops fed through my lower legs, and were compressing the ankle loops so that they could not shift off of my ankles.

Eventually all of my relatives would walk out onto the porch of this garden and shake their heads at me, some smirked, and some looked very worried. Finally after yelling like crazy, begging my parents, sisters, uncles and aunts, grandparents and cousins to let me go and un-tie me, one aunt finally shushed me, and when I kept yelling, pushed her lace hanky into my mouth and tied it there. One day I can't wait to tell this to a psychiatrist and see what they think, but for now, it's just a dream. On the other hand, my 'voice' was no dream, and that really had me upset.

After searching for information about this, I found that I apparently had a bondage fetish, and needed to be tied up for sexual gratification. Most of what I found on-line was pretty scary actually, but after reading more and more, I found a type of person that might help me deal with this fetish, called a Dominatrix. I knew I loved women... hell, if anything I loved 'em too much since it appeared I also wanted to BE one... but here was someone that dealt with all my 'issues' and if I was lucky, she may even turn out to be the Angel I'd fallen so hard for.

With High School graduation coming up in four days, I felt about as far away from a high school student right now as it was possible to be. And yet I was still just 18, and to get into any kind of club like 'Sisters' I would need to be 21. I still had a fake ID that my nerd friends and I had purchased for $100 a couple years back, to sneak into a state store (Pennsylvania's version of a liquor store) to buy beer, so hopefully it would work one more time. My beater car was in the shop again, so I would need to figure out how to get all the way into the city.

It was dark by the time I borrowed my Mom's car, explaining that I needed to go to the library for a project that was overdue. After about an hour of driving into Center City Philadelphia, I finally found the nightclub and parked in one of the many pay-by-hour parking lots nearby. As I got closer, all that was visible was a small neon sign saying 'Sisters' that sat above some steel double doors and a stained glass backlit window, of a blond haired woman, staring into the distance. I stopped and stared at that window for 5 minutes. It couldn't be... it just... well, the eyes... they... oh my god. But the other 2 'things' near this sex club's front doors were now staring right at yours truly. And they were not really the understanding type, being around 300 pounds, and looked like they'd eat guys like me for a late night snack.

"Yo!" The first one yelled, "Wake up dipshit! Wot da fuck ya tink yous doin' here?"

"Oh! I-I'm here researching an article on 'Sisters'," I lied again, "And I'm looking for someone named 'Nona'... I made an appointment for an interview."

"Yeah?" he said, "thought you was a cop or sumptin... but, now I sees ya... Got a ID?"

"Me? A cop?", I laughed along with him, "no way. Here, here's my... um... ID"

Probably the longest minute of my life ticked by as these two gorillas each looked over my fake ID... and after giving me looks that damned near buckled my knees, allowed me in. The one that hadn't said anything up until then, told me I could find Nona on the third floor, and then took me inside and showed me to the elevator. I was glad to not be a 'cop', and to still be alive.

As instructed by Nona, I kept my ID out and took the elevator to the third floor. When I got out, there was a small lobby, with restrooms, and hallways that seemed to stretch forever in either direction. I saw a large sign with a basic blueprint of the floor plan, and quickly saw where the rooms labeled BDSM were. Once I knew where I was going, I marched off confidently into the unknown. Being a Friday night, I figured on a large crowd, but so far, I had hardly seen a single customer. Finally I saw the first set of doors labeled BDSM, and just as I was walking by, they opened wide and allowed three people out, and all... every one... was stark naked! Having no choice, I followed these three for a ways until another set of doors came up labeled 'BDSM lockers' which the three naked folks walked into. Now I understood where everyone was.

Then, just as Nona had described, another set of labeled doors came up and in front of these doors was a small booth, and I would need to show ID to enter. But why this area would need extra protection, when the area I'd just passed by had naked people, and probably sex going on as well... I just was not really sure what was going on anymore. But as I stood there staring down the hall from where I'd just been, the woman in the booth woke me from my quiet contemplation.

"Hey!" she yelled over to me, "You'll need a pass for the Fantasy Room."

"Wha... what? Me?" I asked, "What's the Fantasy Room?"

"It's pay as you go mac," she explained as I approached closer, "but ya needs a pass."

Doing as bidden, I presented my ID, and received a hand stamp to let anyone know I was over 21 and could legally accept their 'services' I supposed. Once I opened the doors however, my high school days were officially over. Nothing I'd ever seen on any porn site that I'd ever had the guts to actually log into, came close to what I saw in the first minute of being in this room. My jaw was simply hanging on the ground, as I saw bodies... just... everywhere... and in every direction and position, to say nothing of state of dress and um... well, undress. And it was rare to see two people together having sex, usually it was either 4-5 fucking each other, or one person hanging from various hooks and chains, bound to a level I'd never thought possible, let alone logical. I hadn't taken more than 3 or 4 tentative steps to my right, when a voice saying something familiar, with a Jamaican lilt to it, came from somewhere behind me...

"Well, if it ain't Fancy Pants!" Nona exclaimed, "you are a pretty one... now... you be careful around here sugar, some of these gurls would eat a lovely little morsel like you... ALIVE."

I whirled around to see a woman sitting at a high top bar table. She was a tall black woman wearing a black sequined evening gown, more in time with the roaring twenties I thought as I walked up to her. Nona was an older woman, probably late middle-aged, she was formally dressed with 4-inch heeled black sandals worn over seamed black silk stockings. Now that I was closer, I was hit by the heady scent of French perfume. Her arms were covered by opera-length sequined gloves, and her right hand held the longest cigarette holder I'd ever seen, with 3 sets of pearls hanging under it. Although every nightclub and restaurant in Philly was no smoking, Nona sat on her 'throne' and puffed away as she pleased apparently. The smoke was making rings above her finely crafted afro hairdo. She seemed surrounded by admirers, was in her element, holding court over the throng having sex all around her... indeed she looked as a queen of sex should look.

"Hello Nona," I said in a most respectful tone, "So glad to make your acquaintance in person."

Taking her left hand and kissing it, reaffirmed my reverence, and seemed to have an impact. Her supporters were now beaming with pride at the respect she had just been paid, and her eyes were now sparkling with energy and playfulness. Little did I suspect how MUCH energy.

"Honey," she whispered in my ear, "If you lookin' for information... I'll only accept one form of payment... you got me baaad little one."