Campaign for Love (27 page)

 

 

"You really can't blame the guys," replied Sharon. "Most men will
succumb to a good-looking woman's overtures. It seems to be an offer
they can't refuse."

 

 

"Maybe. But from what you've told me, Mr. Pierce refused."

 

 

Sharon nodded. "You're right, but she just wasn't his type. I'll bet
he
wouldn't turn you down. I noticed him in the background in that
commercial, and I detected a look of admiration."

 

 

"That could have been for the weather, the scenery, the airport."

 

 

"Oh, sure," said Sharon, rolling her eyes in disbelief. "You looked
amazing. So have it your way, but I'm entitled to my opinion.
Anyway,
congratulations on being Elder and Rubin's first celebrity."

 

 

Suzanna shook her head. "I won't be a celebrity. My identity is
being
kept very hush-hush. It adds an air of mystery, and as long as they
keep my name secret, I could be any woman who uses Femme Fatale. Not
a
star, so all women can identify with me. I doubt even most of the
people here will guess it's me unless they know I went down to the
Bahamas as Quentin's assistant."

 

 

"It's going to be fun being in on a nation-wide secret," said
Sharon.

 

 

Suzy started toward her office but had an afterthought. "By the
way,"
she asked, "what's new on the home front? Did you hear from Jerry
since
the last time we got to talk girl-talk?"

 

 

Sharon positively beamed. "Yes, I've been out with him twice since."

 

 

"Wow, great."

 

 

"He's just wonderful. He's the first man I've dated since I got out
of
my teens who hasn't tried to get me into the sack on the first date.
He
didn't even make a pass, and asked permission to kiss me goodnight.
Should I be worried?"

 

 

"No. You should be ecstatic. It probably means he's serious about
you.
He knows you don't sleep around, and is showing his respect for your
ethics."

 

 

"How would he know that?"

 

 

"Because he knows me, and he knows that if you did, you wouldn't be
my
friend."

 

 

Sharon looked pleased as she thanked Suzy once more.

 

 

"Nice talking to you, Sharon, but I'd better get back to work before
the boss gets here. I'll see you at lunch." With a wave, Suzy took
her
leave.

 

 

She went to her office, hung up her things and got to work. She knew
Quentin would be late because he was stopping off to see a client on
his way in. She tried to get as much done as she could without him
being there to distract her. But what an amazing distraction he
was….

 

 

When he finally arrived, they exchanged quiet good mornings. Suzanna
knew he'd soon find an excuse to enter her office and give her a
sustaining hug and kiss in private.

 

 

She was almost right. He first called Sharon for dictation, and when
she returned to her office to type up all his letters, Quentin came
into Suzy's office and closed the door behind him.

 

 

"I love you and I've missed you, you beautiful, soft, tantalizing
creature," he whispered before claiming her lips and tracing the
length
of her body with his sensitive hands.

 

 

Suzanna molded herself to him as she tangled her fingers in his
thick
black wavy hair. They had become practiced in releasing one another
before too strong emotions took over.

 

 

"Love you too, my darling," she said.

 

 

He placed a kiss in the palm of each hand and said, "Hang onto these
until tonight."

 

 

"With pleasure," she answered. "Your place or mine?"

 

 

"Let's make it mine. I can see you better on my big screen. You
know,
it would make it a lot easier on both of us if you'd just move in."

 

 

She stepped away from him. "I'm sorry, Quentin, but as much as I
love
you, it's all too sudden, all too new to me. I feel a need to keep
my
independence, especially now that my career seems to have taken an
upward swing."

 

 

He frowned, and tried to smile to cover his disappointment. "I guess
I
can't blame you for that, but the offer is always open if you should
ever change your mind. Bye. See you later."

 

 

Suzanna sighed, and went back to her desk. She kept on working until
noon on her new campaign for Imperial foods, holiday desserts
without
the hassle.

 

 

She thought about her meteoric rise ever since she had come to the
company, but perhaps it was all happening too fast?

 

 

Then she looked at the next folder on her desk, the results of her
very
first layout completely without Quentin's input, a beautiful color
photo of pretzels covered in vari-colored and vari-flavored
chocolate,
with her suggested caption, "A new twist on an old favorite."

 

 

It was good, damned good. The kind of thing she had always hoped to
do.
But was it Quentin helping her, or had it been within her all along
and
he was finally encouraging it all to come out?

 

 

She wasn't sure, but she knew she had made the right choice by
disguising herself and getting to know everyone before she came out
of
her shell. She was where she wanted to be career-wise now, and just
looking at her, no one could ever say she had slept her way to the
top.

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTY

 

 

At noon, Suzy joined Sharon. Once in the cafeteria, she realized she
had become something of a celebrity. If it hadn't been for the
'before'
shots, most likely no one would have recognized her, but all the
people
she'd met since she'd been there, plus many she didn't know, came to
congratulate her and tell her how much they liked the campaign so
far.

 

 

They were curious, though, as to why she didn't look more like the
'after' now, when they could see how she looked all done up. They
couldn't believe anyone would want to be less than a Femme Fatale.

 

 

Suzy just smiled and said she was more comfortable this way. Brad
Sherman, still one of her most ardent admirers since she had refused
to
tell on him after his thefts of her ideas, came to her and was warm
in
his praises, both of the campaign idea and her transformation.

 

 

She thanked him, and was pleased to see that once again, no one was
making any snide innuendoes about her.

 

 

During the following week, Suzanna and Quentin couldn't turn on a
television set without seeing Suzy in various degrees of dress and
undress, from evening gowns to bikinis.

 

 

People started recognizing her on the street, in restaurants, in
elevators and in subways. Reactions were varied.

 

 

Some people would point and whisper to one another. If she was with
Quentin, they would stage whisper, "That's the man in the
commercials
with her. He must be a model, too."

 

 

If she was alone, they'd ask for her autograph. She always signed,
"Yours 'before' and 'after,' Femme Fatale."

 

 

Some were disappointed at not finding out her real name, but others
were just as happy with the commercial one.

 

 

Cosmetic sales were reaching a new high. Every woman wanted to be a
Femme Fatale for the holidays.

 

 

Their client was already planning a spring campaign around Suzy in
as
many roles as they could dream up. They would start filming right
after
Christmas.

 

 

Quentin would gladly allow her the opportunity and whatever time it
took. It was called keeping the client happy. But more than that, he
loved watching her blossom in every sense. No longer was her beauty
to
be feared, or something that could be used as a weapon against her.
She
was now an empowered woman, and ironically, it had been by becoming
a
sex goddess that she had been truly freed from the stereotype.

 

 

The weeks flew by, and finally Friday December twenty-third was the
day
of the long-awaited Christmas Party. It was held in the company
cafeteria, which had been decorated with greens and a tree for the
occasion.

 

 

A bar had been set up at one end, and there was a buffet table laden
with food. Someone had brought a CD player and an assortment of
music,
and a soft-rock beat filled the air.

 

 

The rest of the employees would never have known what Nathan Elder
and
Craig Rubin looked like if it weren't for the Christmas party. It
was
traditional that once a year the top brass came down out of their
ivory
tower and mingled with the hoi polloi.

 

 

Mingling included eating, drinking, merry-making, and even dancing
with
the more attractive wage slaves.

 

 

It was a rich black silk cocktail dress that looked as if it had
been
painted on. The scoop neck bared her creamy shoulders. The hemline
ended just below her knees, exposing long, shapely legs encased in
the
sheerest of black hose. Her black shoes had thin, three-inch heels.

 

 

She was in full Femme Fatale makeup, and her shining chestnut waves
were brushed up and back from her classic brow to cascade in springy
waves to her shoulders.

 

 

A thin black ribbon fastened with a coral-pink rose midway on her
long,
graceful neck was her only adornment. The effect was spectacular.
The
stark black made her skin glow.

 

 

Quentin and Sharon had already left for the party, and Suzanna knew
she
would be just about the last to arrive, since changing back into
Sexy
Suzy had taken a little time.

 

 

They had already started to play the holiday songs when she got
there.
She could hear "I’ll Be Home for Christmas" as she approached the
doors.

 

 

Just for a moment she had a touch of nerves, but she took a deep
breath, and with chin and chest held high she pushed open the door
and
walked in.

 

 

Those looking in that direction, and Quentin was one of them,
stopped
talking and stared. Well, gaped would have been a better word, she
thought with an inward sinking feeling.

 

 

The puddle of silence spread until all at once Suzanna was the focus
of
hundreds of eyes. There were a few gasps, a few murmurs, then
someone
started to clap and pandemonium broke loose.

 

 

Quentin was the first to reach her side. "What an entrance!" he
whispered, shaking her hand as if to congratulate her on the Femme
Fatale contract. "If you wanted to surprise hell out of everyone on
purpose, I’d say you’ve done it."

 

 

"I’ve been turning myself back into Sexy Suzy, and I must say, it
feels
good. I’ll never be sensible Suzanna again. Do you mind?"

 

 

"Mind? How could I mind? You’re glorious," he praised, the light of
love and desire glowing in his eyes.

 

 

Just as he finished talking, the rest of the room started to
converge
on them. People were shaking her hand, patting her on the back, some
were even hugging her, and she didn’t mind it a bit.

 

 

She knew all at once that she had nothing to fear from these
well-meaning fellow workers. They admired her and respected her for
what she had accomplished.

 

 

Amid all the press of friendly people, an aisle suddenly cleared.
Approaching her were two prosperous-looking older men, sixty to
sixty-five. They were looking at her in mixed wonderment and
admiration.

 

 

Quentin introduced them at once. "Ms. Sills, I’d like you to meet
Mr.
Nathan Elder and Mr. Craig Rubin. This is my assistant, Ms. Suzanna
Sills."

 

 

Suzanna extended her hand, first to Elder, then to Rubin. For some
reason, she found Elder’s handclasp unpleasant. His hand was clammy,
his grip limp.

 

 

He held her hand a trifle longer than was necessary as he said,
"Charmed, is it Ms., yes, Ms. Sills, or should I say, ‘Ms. Femme
Fatale?’ I can see why he hired you. The question is, where has
Quentin
been hiding you?"

 

 

"He hasn’t, Mr. Elder. I’ve been right there in my office for anyone
to
see ever since I started to work here in September."

 

 

He blinked, looking decidedly stunned. "I’m sorry. I had no idea."

 

 

Now it was Craig Rubin’s turn. He held her hand in a firm clasp and
released it immediately as he said, "Congratulations, Ms. Sills.
You’ve
been doing an outstanding job for us, and your Femme Fatale
Cosmetics
campaign and modeling, as well as your recipe campaigns for Imperial
Foods have certainly kept our clients incredibly happy."

 

 

"Thank you, Mr. Rubin," said Suzy with a warm smile. "I’m glad to
hear
that you’re familiar with my work as well as my dabbling at
modeling—which, I hope you know, was not my idea."

 

 

"I’m well aware of that, Ms. Sills. In fact, Felix Morgan himself
called to clear it with us."

 

 

"I never knew that, but I’m glad to hear it." Suzanna liked this man
as
much as she disliked Elder.

 

 

Both were snap judgments, but sometimes first impressions were
justified. But she had no time to dwell on it, as Quentin suggested,
"Let’s go to the refreshment table. Are you thirsty, or hungry?"

 

 

Suzanna considered. "A little of both, I think. What do we have to
drink?"