Chapter One

 

The last thing Gwendolyn Fraser wanted to see on a Monday morning was "error reading disk" flickering on her computer screen. She'd spent half the weekend working on the Stone project and all of it was on the little diskette which her miserable excuse for a computer was obstinately refusing to read.

She ordered it to try again and got the same result. Furiously, she banged her fingers down on the enter key and ordered it to read the thing again and again, getting angrier with each successive failure.

“Damn you!” she snapped, slapping the keyboard.

She had a toy panda just above the monitor. It smiled in delight and held a sign which said “Cheer up!”.

She stuck her tongue out at it, then yanked the disk out and left her cubicle, walking down to see Hugh Phillips.

“Hugh? Would you try this in your machine, please?” she asked, leaning into his messy little walled-off cubicle

He looked up from his keyboard and grinned, then took the disk and slipped it into his slot.

“Hello, there.”

They both turned as Allen Jennings, the computer engineering supervisor, appeared at the entrance to Phillips' cubicle along with an attractive blonde neither knew.

She was quite tall, with wide shoulders but a flawless figure. She wore a tight, black business suit with a very short skirt, and Gwen caught Hugh discretely eyeing her long legs as the woman looked over his messy cubicle.

“Gwendolyn Fraser and Hugh Phillips, this is Morgan Steele, my replacement and your new supreme ruler and general all around deity.”

“How do you do?” Morgan said, her voice deep, her pronunciation flawlessly upper class.

“Gwen and Hugh work on the Stone project,” Michael said.

“I shall look forward to meeting with both of you personally,” Morgan said, her eyes piercing, moving from one to the other then back again.

Gwen felt them lock onto her, and felt a strange sense of helplessness, as though Morgan were examining her very soul. She felt an instinctive urge to back away, for the woman exuded power and strength. Somehow she knew the woman was not going to be like the gentle, good-natured Rose, that she would not be someone to cross or argue with.

Jennings led her on and Hugh shook his head. “Whoah, what a looker. What legs!”

“I don't think you better let her hear you talking about her like that, Hugh,” Gwen said thoughtfully.

“You got that right, love. That's one cold fish there. You hear her? Right out of bloody Oxford is my guess.”

“Too old.”

“She's not that old. Maybe mid thirties or so. Not a lot older. Anyway, I didn't mean she just bloody graduated I mean...”

“I know.”

“And what's with the hair?” He turned and grinned at her slyly. “You know, you just don't often see grown women with hair that short. Not in this business.”

“Maybe she finds it easier to wash,” Gwen said, not sure why she was trying to defend the woman.

“More likely she's a bloody dyke.”

“That's not the kind of word you need to be caught using either,” Gwen said dryly.

“So turn me in to the PC thought police. But were I you I'd not be bending over near her, my girl.”

“Hugh!”

He grinned and turned back to his computer, hitting a few keys.

“Just because she's gay - that is, if she is gay, is no reason for you to think she's some kind of, well, some kind of sexual predator or something.”

“Just joking, love. Here.” He handed her another CD with her program on it.

“Oh, you could read it? Lovely. I wonder why mine wouldn't.”

“Happens sometimes,” he said with a shrug. “Nobody seems to know why. Just be glad everything's not wrecked.”

“I am. Thanks much.”

She pecked him on the top of his head and went back to her cubicle to call up the program.

She kept thinking about Morgan Steele, though. There was something decidedly odd about the woman. It wasn't her sexual orientation either. Gwen agreed with Hugh that there was a good chance the woman was a lesbian, but that didn't bother her. No. It was something else again.

Hugh had described her as cold. But that wasn't quite it. Gwen could easily believe the woman was a strict disciplinarian. The way those eyes had pierced her, had pinned her down like a bird examining a worm had been startling. She'd never felt so insignificant, like a serf before a queen.

What, she wondered, would such a woman be like in bed?

Gwen had never slept with a woman, nor ever really considered it except in flights of extreme fancy. Lesbians were sort of a mod thing these days, making all the fashionable media. But she herself was married, and happily so, to a wonderful man, and considered herself utterly common and ordinary.

But that grated on her a bit. She was getting on, after all. At twenty-seven she was now past the point of being in her early twenties and consigned to the approach to thirty. Thirty! To be thirty years old seemed quite an amazing, and not at all to be appreciated event. It marked the end of wild and wicked youth and the entryway to respectable maturity. And what wild and wicked things had she done in her youth?

She'd lost her virginity in the back of a Ford sedan at nineteen to a college boyfriend. She had had rather boring and uninspiring sex with him for a year until dumping him. She had another boyfriend in her last year of college who had been only slightly more exciting in bed for a few months. Then she'd met Sean, who, while sweet, was hardly a part of anyone's wicked past.

No. There were no wild antics in her youth. She hadn't been arrested, hadn't gone to any demos, hadn't engaged in lewd sexual escapades, hadn't partied all night and come home socked to the gills, hadn't done drugs, hadn't really done much of anything.

Maybe engaging in a little sexual interlude with a woman would be - interesting. But with Morgan? She shivered at the very thought, again wondering what Morgan would be like.

Not that her husband Sean wasn't wonderful, gentle, loving and kind. For that matter he'd given her her very first orgasm. Sometimes she joked to her girlfriend Karen that she'd married him principally for that reason.

In truth, sex wasn't something that she normally cared a great deal for. It was, as far as she could tell, vastly exaggerated in its effects. She had certainly never experienced the wild thrills and shocking bliss that the media portrayed.

Then again she'd always been somewhat hesitant in bed herself. She always held her dignity very close, and was uneasy about doing some of the things which Sean, for one, considered normal. She had learned, after a fashion, how to perform oral sex, but didn't like it. She never had sex in ways she considered demeaning, such as from behind. And she liked, if possible, to have the lights out when it was being done.

It wasn't that she was ashamed of her body. Not precisely. But she had developed early, and had quickly come to be embarrassed at the comments and jokes and attention others made about her breasts.

They were not so big, really, only thirty-eight D-cups, but she was then as she was now a short, slender woman, and so they were rather noticeable.

She tended to wear blazers because of that, or loose sweaters. Her chestnut brown hair was thick and straight, a lustrous, gleaming shade she was quite proud of. She parted it in the centre, leaving it to sweep down around her forehead, framing her narrow, elfin face in quite a lovely manner and spilling over her shoulders.

Occasionally she looked at herself naked and was proud, but in public, among others, she just wished people would ignore her chest. It didn't help that every man who'd had her had groped at them mercilessly, like eager children with new toys. Only Sean had restrained himself, and only then after her complaints.

Morgan Steele looked, from what she'd seen, to be busty as well, but she had the height and chest and shoulders so that they didn't stand out. Gwen had often wished she were a tall, strong woman, but that was simply not to be. Oh, she exercised quite rigorously. And as a result her breasts remained quite firm for their size. But how long would that last, she thought unhappily, when she passed that magical thirty year line.

She tried to continue work on the project and forget about Morgan Steele, and eventually succeeded. She had lunch with Susan Reilly and Lauren Sims, though, and they were both eager to know what she thought of her.

And no sooner had she returned than she got a phone call from the woman herself, asking her - though the tone left little doubt that asking was a polite fiction - to come to her office and see her.

She felt a little nervous as she rose and ran her hands down her skirt. She looked at herself in her small mirror, swallowed, and then walked down the aisle between the cubicles to Morgan's glass-windowed office.

She saw that the shades were all closed. Michael had always kept the windows clear.

She knocked on the door and Morgan's imperious voice called out for her to enter.

The office had undergone a drastic change since the morning. No longer was it filled with soft, old fashioned wooden furniture. Now everything was gleaming chrome, leather and glass. Morgan sat behind a large glass and steel desk, talking on the phone as she typed at her computer terminal. She pointed at one of the small leather and steel chairs before her desk without pausing, and Gwen sat carefully, crossing her legs.

“I don't care what he wants,” Morgan said firmly. She paused for a moment. “No. I said no! Did you not hear me? I do not care what he wants. You'll do it this way now. If you aren't capable of it we'll find another supplier.”

She hung up and turned to Gwen, lips pursed as she examined her. Then she pulled over a folder and opened it. “Gwendolyn Fraser,” she said.

“Yes,” Gwen said, barely restraining herself from saying “ma'am”.

“You've been with us four years. Got a number of good reports.”

Gwen nodded and tried to smile. Morgan's cool eyes froze the attempt.

“Married. No children. Good. You won't be out partying all the time and no brats to stay home and care for.”

She stood up and began to pace.

“As you are no doubt aware, computer engineering is by far the largest and most important part of this company. The other sections are just there to provide for us, to market our products, take care of bookkeeping, perform clerical products and so on.”

She looked at Gwen, who nodded.

“We only have one hundred and forty employees, so having another level of management above the supervisor of computer engineering is superfluous. The owners have agreed then that in addition to being head of computer engineering I'm also to be the titular president of the company, responsible only to the board of Micom Incorporated, which owns most of our stock.”

Gwen nodded again, uncertain as to why she was being treated to this little lecture.

“I aim to change the perception of this company. It's going to be one of youth and vitality, of sexual excitement and glitter, futuristic and on the cutting edge. I want people to speak of us with awe. I want people lining up to come and work for us, the youngest people, the brightest and most brilliant and most daring.”

She whirled suddenly and bent, causing Gwen to pull her head back in alarm.

“Do you think you fit in with that image?”

“Well I...”

“Because not everyone will. I've already let go a number of people.”

“Y-You have?”

“Perception is everything in this business. And ours is in for a drastic change. You can be part of that or not.”

She and Sean had just moved into a new home in South Lambeth, one whose payments they could just barely afford on both their salaries. She felt a knot of tension grip her as she nodded hesitantly.

Morgan straightened and looked at her doubtfully. “Untie your hair.”

“Excuse me?” Gwen stared at her in confusion.

“Untie your hair. You look like a bloody schoolmarm.”

“Well I - that is, it gets in my way when I...”

Morgan's hands slipped behind her and deftly undid her hair. Gwen's jaw dropped but she didn't dare complain as her hair tumbled down around her shoulders.

Morgan stood back a step and examined her, then combed her fingers through her hair quickly.

“Much better. But those clothes - “

She shook her head and made a face.

“I do hope you've got something more hip, something more modern and sexy. Short skirts?”

“I - well - I mean. I've always dressed in a businesslike fashion...”

“Our business is selling our software. Since our products aren't much different from everyone else's software we need to sell ourselves, sell the company. You think this is the most comfortable outfit I could have chosen to wear to work today?” she demanded, indicating her own tight, short skirt and blouse.

“From now on you will dress like this; short skirts, minis, and tight tops. You've got big breasts. Don't emphasise them. I don't want them bouncing around, but a nice tight top, maybe midriff bearing would be nice. And leave your hair hanging down.”

“Just a minute!” Gwen protested, getting to her feet.

“All the women who work here will be dressing in the same manner,” Morgan said cooly.

“That's sexist!”

“All the men too. Not in minis, of course, but in nice snappy trousers and shirts, silks and colours. I'm not having any scruffy jeans and beards either. Anyone who doesn't want to shape up can ship themselves off.”

“You honestly expect men like Hugh Phillips to make like some flashy...”

“Phillips is gone.”

Gwen stared at her in shock.

“Gave him his walking papers during lunch.”

“But - but...”

“I can hand you the same if you want.”

Gwen bit her lip.

“So. I can count on you?”

Gwen nodded helplessly.

“Good. Don't let me see you in here in some old schoolteacher's outfit tomorrow else I'll put your across my lap and spank that saucy bottom of yours.”

She cocked her head slightly to one side and let her lips curl upwards, and Gwen felt her face flush as butterflies joined the knot in her stomach.

“Look, Gwennie,” she said, sliding her arm over Gwen's shoulder. “I'm not trying to be a brute. Honestly. But this company is bleeding money and someone's got to take drastic action.”

Gwen was uncomfortably aware of Morgan's heavy breast pushing against her shoulder as the blonde walked her to the door.

“I'm strict and demanding but I am fair. If I must discipline you,” she said, turning and then cocking her finger under Gwen's chin to pull her face up, “You'll know why and get a chance to say your piece.”

She smiled, then eased her fingers back, sliding them ever so lightly along Gwen's cheek, through her hair, then back as she opened the door.

“Come and see me any time,” she said in parting.

Gwen walked back to her cubicle in a daze, barely noting the empty one where Hugh had worked.

Everything the woman said made sense. The company was in trouble, with no name to speak of and nothing much to differentiate it from its more famous competitors. Young, sleek, and sexy might well change that.

And she'd even been sort of, well, nice there at the end. Sort of. Gwen wondered if she were really a lesbian, and considered that business where she'd touched her chin and hair. Did Morgan fancy her?!

She felt a wave of shock at the thought, yet, oddly, not the alarm she would have expected. In fact, she felt a strange little squirming at the back of her mind. And she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like, not with a woman, but with Morgan Steele.

She was so impressive! So smart and beautiful and strong! There was something quite masculine about her, though Gwen berated herself for thinking it. Women could be strong, too, after all.

What would Morgan do to her in bed? What did lesbians do anyway, beyond the obvious?

Yet the idea was absurd, and she pushed it far from her mind as she turned to the computer and got back to work.

It kept intruding, though. Odd flashes and images of women embracing, lips touching, naked, kept appearing out of nowhere, disturbing and worrying her. She was not and never had been attracted to women, and she was not attracted to Morgan Steele.

Or so she told herself.