Campaign for Love (3 page)

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

 

Suzanna was still deep in thought working on her three new accounts
when she absent-mindedly removed the heavy black tortoise frames to
rub
the bridge of her nose.

 

 

A short time later, there was a light knock at the door. It was of
course the subject of her musings, the handsome Quentin Pierce
himself.

 

 

Suzanna looked up, startled, with the phony glasses still dangling
from
her fingers. She recovered almost immediately, and using both hands,
she pushed them back up onto her patrician nose and tried to look
back
down at the campaign.

 

 

But she hadn't been fast enough. He'd got a good look at her without
them.

 

 

Damn.

 

 

"I hope I didn't startle you," Quentin said with an apologetic
smile.
"I thought I'd look in on you to see if you have any problems, or
questions about the work."

 

 

"You didn't, really, and I don't," replied Suzanna with a careful
smile. "I would like to know, though, if there's any one campaign
that
takes precedence?"

 

 

"No," he replied. "They're all equally important. You might as well
start with whatever one is on top."

 

 

"I noticed that one is for a different kind of snack, pretzels
covered
with flavored chocolate in peppermint, orange or lemon. I thought
there
might be a large picture of one captioned, 'Here's a New Twist on an
Old Favorite,' and then the copy telling how great it is."

 

 

"Very good, Ms. Sills," he said sincerely.

 

 

He was standing behind her shoulder, bending over to look at her
copy.
She could feel his warm breath, and his masculine scent made her
tingle
all over.

 

 

Oddly enough, it was at that moment that Quentin Pierce asked, "Ms.
Sills, what is that marvelous fragrance you're wearing?"

 

 

Amazed at the question and somewhat confused by his nearness, she
looked up at him questioningly, only to meet again the impact of
those
deep blue eyes head on.

 

 

"I'm afraid I don't use any," said Suzy in a slightly embarrassed
tone.
"You probably smell my bath soap and shampoo, lemon verbena. I've
used
it all my life."

 

 

Mr. Pierce seemed flabbergasted at having asked the question. "I'm
sorry," he apologized. "I don't usually ask such personal questions
of
my assistants, especially on such short acquaintance. It's just that
I'm not partial to any perfume in the office, but your scent was so
pleasant it took me by surprise."

 

 

"No apology necessary," answered Suzy. "After all, if we're going to
be
working so closely, we might as well get to know one another."

 

 

His personal magnetism was overpowering. How she wished she could
let
her hair down, take off the fake glasses and release her throbbing
breasts from the confines of her hideous bra!

 

 

And what a thrill it would be to get rid of the chastity belt, as
she
was beginning to think of the tight girdle she had put on to avoid
any
of what she and her friends called 'jiggle'.

 

 

"You're very kind," said Mr. Pierce as he dropped a friendly hand on
Suzanna's shoulder.

 

 

"Thank you," said Suzy. She could feel herself blushing, an unusual
phenomenon in this day and age, and one she was sure hadn't been
lost
on Quentin Pierce.

 

 

He removed his hand from her shoulder where Suzy imagined it had
burned
an impression, and with a bemused look said, "I didn't mean to
intrude
on your work. I can see I don't have to hand-hold you at all. I seem
to
have made an excellent choice."

 

 

With this encouraging remark, Quentin Pierce left Suzanna's office,
but
left the door ajar behind him.

 

 

Suzanna was left feeling limp and drained. No man had ever stirred
her
like that before, and he hadn't even touched her, except in a
friendly
way. Maybe the fact that he hadn't tried to 'come on' to her was
what
made the difference.

 

 

This must be what her friends meant when they talked of being
aroused.
It was a new and wonderful feeling that Suzanna had despaired of
ever
knowing, despite being loaned reams of Cosmo magazines.

 

 

Her hang-ups dated back to an ugly childhood experience which had
left
its mark in spite of all her attempts to rationalize it. Now, she
hoped
she might be able to put it behind her after all, if her response to
the handsome Quentin was anything to go by.

 

 

However, Suzanna found something else to disturb her. If Mr. Pierce
makes a practice of dropping in on his assistants frequently, I'll
never be able to relax, she thought with a sigh as she twanged the
girdle where it was biting into her waist.

 

 

She had hoped that once she was in her own office, she would have
her
privacy, and perhaps not have to wear these confining clothes all
the
time.

 

 

But he had left his door open, and had made it clear he expected
them
to be working closely together from now on. Suzy knew she'd have to
be
on guard so that her eyes and lips wouldn't betray the real woman
beneath the dowdy exterior.

 

 

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

 

The rest of the day passed uneventfully enough. Suzanna had lunch
with
Quentin's personal assistant, whom he had introduced her to when he
had
insisted she stop for coffee at eleven to meet some of her new
colleagues.

 

 

Her name was Sharon Welsh, and she was an attractive red-head with a
stunning smile, and a motherly attitude towards Quentin.

 

 

Nothing romantic there.... She had noted to herself as they stood
side
by side, comfortable but not intimate with one another that she
could
see.

 

 

Sharon had been kind enough to tap on the door and ask if she'd like
to
join her for lunch in the employee's cafeteria.

 

 

"I'd be delighted," said Suzanna. "I don't know my way around, and
I'll
be happy to have you show me the ropes. "

 

 

"Sure thing. I'll introduce you to some of the copy-writers and
Junior
Execs on our floor. They're really the only ones you'll ever come in
contact with anyway. It's a big agency. I don't even know most of
the
others except for a nodding acquaintance."

 

 

Once at their table, Sharon made a few introductions, then turned to
filling Suzanna in on some office gossip, but it was nothing
unpleasant
or really catty.

 

 

It soon became apparent to Suzanna during lunch that Sharon
worshipped
her boss from afar, and equally apparent that she harbored a faint
hope
of worshipping him more closely.

 

 

Suzanna found out from Sharon, with very little prompting to talk
about
him, that Quentin Pierce, in addition to being successful, handsome
and
virile, was something even better, namely, unattached.

 

 

Sharon confided, "But of course, a man like Quentin Pierce has a
constant succession of women at his beck and call, so his
availability
status could change at any time. But so far, he seems content to
play
the field. As far as I can see, he hasn't narrowed his choice to any
particular favorite."

 

 

The news didn't surprise her, but she did feel unaccountably
disappointed for some strange reason. But at least he wasn't having
a
fling with Sharon. That would be awkward for the whole team. But as
Sharon had said, he was pretty much married to his job.

 

 

After lunch, Suzanna went back to work with a better idea of what
working at Elder and Rubin would be like. Although Sharon had
introduced her around, none of the young men had said any more than
a
cursory, "How are you?"

 

 

The women, however, were very pleasant, since Suzanna posed no
threat
to them on a competitive basis. There was a warm camaraderie among
the
young employees, most of whom were unmarried and forming tentative
romantic attachments with fellow workers, though nothing really
obvious.

 

 

Everyone had to be so careful in the workplace nowadays with being
politically correct, though with busy business types, how else were
they to form romantic attachments if they were working all the time?
And who else would they have so much in common with?

 

 

Suzy's only objection in the past was that she would have liked at
least half a say in who was pursuing her. But the more arrogant the
male, the more oblivious to her feelings, the more demanding of her
attention.

 

 

But now that she was dressed up as a dowdy frump, all that would
change, she was sure.

 

 

How sweet it is, thought Suzy, not to have to prove to anyone that
just
because I look sexy doesn't mean that I am sexy, or that I feel
sexy.

 

 

In fact, Suzy remembered, back as far as high school, in spite of
her
titillating nickname, one date was enough to make an escort revise
the
sobriquet from 'Sexy Suzy' to 'cold fish.'

 

 

It hadn't been fair, of course. She just hadn't met the right man.
And
in an age with so many things to be careful of, casual relationships
or
flings just weren't for her. If that made her a cold fish, well
then,
she would just have to 'flounder' along!

 

 

By the end of her working day, Suzanna had completed two of the
three
layouts and gotten a good start on the third, with proposed media
and
running dates sketched in.

 

 

Quentin wasn't in his office when Suzy was ready to leave for the
day,
so she just dropped the finished work on his desk on her way out.

 

 

To her pleasant surprise, Suzy managed to reach her building on
Eighty-Sixth Street without having a hand thrust between her legs, a
breast grabbed, or anything rubbed against her in the crowded
subway.

 

 

It looks as if my de-sexing program is working, she said to herself.
Of
course, I'm not kidding myself that it's always going to work this
way.
I'm sure there will still be days when I'll have to change cars or
even
switch trains. It's just that today's crop of perverts was a bit
choosier.

 

 

Suzy soon stepped into the elevator of her apartment building and
pushed the button for the fourth floor, tired at the end of her long
day, but elated that everything had gone so well.

 

 

Once inside her apartment, Suzy headed straight for her bedroom,
where
she unhooked her harness-bra before anything else, even before
taking
off her outside clothes. The girdle came next, along with the
pantyhose.

 

 

When the last stitch had been removed, she scratched and stretched,
trying to rub away the red marks left by the tight undergarments.
Arching her back catlike, she next reached up and took the pins from
her topknot, letting the silken strands of chestnut hair float free
to
her shoulders. She attacked her wavy locks with a brush until she
felt
her scalp tingle with restored circulation.

 

 

After a refreshing shower, sponging away the grime of the day with
her
favorite lemon verbena soap, she looked in her full-length mirror
and
saw with distaste that the welts were still there.

 

 

Good heavens, thought Suzanna. I wonder if this condition could
become
permanent? I can't let that happen. As soon as I'm better
established,
I'll undergo a gradual transformation, she decided as she toweled
herself briskly. Starting tomorrow, I'll leave off the girdle. With
a
loose-fitting dress and long jacket my hips won't be noticed-I hope.

 

 

Slipping into a short white terry robe, she padded barefoot into the
kitchen to start dinner. Suzy had picked up some cubed lamb at the
market the day before. She sautéed it to a golden brown in
her
electric skillet, added onions, carrots, potatoes and seasoning with
some water, covered the whole thing and lowered it to simmer while
she
telephoned Elsa. Elsa, a friend from childhood, was probably fixing
her
own dinner and would be eagerly waiting to hear whether or not
Suzanna
had gotten the job.

 

 

Suzy was right. Elsa answered almost immediately with a "Hi, Suzy?"

 

 

When Suzanna answered in the affirmative, she asked, "How did it go?
Did they hire you?"

 

 

"S-u-u-ure did," exulted Suzy. "Not only that, but Mr. Pierce, my
new
boss, said I had the best resume."

 

 

"Tell me all about it," urged Elsa. "Did you really do what you said
you would and play down your looks?"

 

 

"Did I ever!" laughed Suzy. "You wouldn't have known me. I
skull-dragged my hair into a knot on top of my head and wore phony
horn-rimmed glasses. I looked ten years older."

 

 

"But what did you do about your boobs and buns?" asked Elsa
inelegantly.

 

 

Suzy whooped with laughter. "That you would have to see to believe.
But
it will give you an idea when I tell you that nobody tried to pinch
my
bottom or brush an imaginary spot off my chest all day."

 

 

"That must be some disguise!" chuckled Elsa. "You'll have to stop
here
on your way home some night and show me. But Suzy, how can you bear
to
do it to yourself? Most of us would kill for what you have. We try
to
look more sexy, not less. We don't even mind fending off a few
pinches.
They're sort of flattering. I always add to that quote, 'You can
never
be too thin, too rich or too sexy.'"