The Nest (closed for myself and vespasion)

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http://i60.photobucket.com/albums/h2/AngeliaAvrielle/rachelle-lefevre-photoshoot-06.jpg

Rachel Robbins
Age: 29

The only child of magazine tycoon, George H. Robbins, and former model (died at age 39 in a highly publicized plane crash eleven years ago on her way from a photo shoot in Paris to her daughter's high school graduation from prestigious Maurette's Academy), Monique DuPonte-Robbins.

Rachel's grown up priveleged and she knows it. She's used to the best of everything. Not necessarily bratty, she's still been spoiled, knows what she likes, and expects it. It makes her a challenging, results driven, employer. Interested in writing and photography from a young age, she delved into her father's business as soon as he'd let her. She was writing her own column from age fifteen and increasing her input in how the magazine was run steadily from there. As Vice President and Co. C.E.O., she currently has turned the popular forty year old magazine, 'Robbin's Nest', into a successful website and online webseries to grow with the modern age and is working on possible merchandising as well. She runs the company six days a week while her founding father now basically is a powerful figurehead, breezing in here and there at headquarters, one or two afternoons per week, hosting parties, dinners, and functions, wooing clients over golf, drinks, trips to the casino or spa...He's given up the hard work to his capable daughter yet still keeps his talons dug well into the beast of his creation despite claiming he's nearly ready to let go and retire...

George H. Robbins, age 70, keeps promising his vice president daughter that he'll retire soon and leave the business all up to her. Soon...that was a promise first made over three years ago. With that promise, Rachel threw herself into her work and made little time for anything else.

On the eve of the release of Winter Holidays versions of every product, she was extremely busy and her nerves somewhat shot. Digging through virtual piles of emails, Rachel typed replies like a fiend, chattering away to the short, brunette, nervous wreck at her side as she did so, "Rose, get Helen on the line again. Please explain to her the importance of that spread being finished before the deadline, not on it. I mean it! As a matter of urgency, let's just say the deadline for her is 10pm instead of midnight." She waved her hand and dismissed her own previous thought, adding, "...scratch that. Just text her. She never answers her phone during her creative process."

Rose, Rachel's assistant, buzzed like a bee around the fiery, fast talking redhead, making calls, texts, Tweets, sending messages, getting coffee, water, lunch, copies, fabric samples, files, juggling five tablets, a laptop, a gym bag, a suitcase, and three constantly buzzing phones, yet always managing, somehow, to keep up with her boss...just barely. Rose was the third assistant hired since May. She'd made it past the three month dump and everyone in the office assured her it was a huge deal with someone as exacting as Rachel Robbins as her boss. Rose piped up, "Message sent. But, what if she's..."

"...late?" Interrupted Rachel, she nodded, a glint of humor in her nearly angry green eyes, "...count on it. She will be. But, if she thinks the deadline is 10, we might just get it to the presses by quarter to twelve. And, you know I prefer to be early, don't I, Rose?"

"Yes, Ms. Robbins, you do. Oh, your father just texted. He's cancelling the private dinner meeting but holding the table in case you still want to go."

Rachel tried not to look disappointed. "Oh...ok...Yeah, keep the table. I'll just come back to the office after dinner, make sure we're ready to print before heading home for good. Text him back. Tell him thanks."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Ick, ma'am. Yuck, bite your tongue, Rosie!"

Both ladies laughed. Then, they got back to work. Time flew by!

At 4pm Rachel's personal trainer texted Rose on Rachel's business phone to remind her it was Friday, a workout day. The gym was in the office basement. Rachel sighed as Rose handed her the gym bag and water bottle. The bodyguard, who'd barely spoken all day (his usual) silently followed Rachel onto the lift.

Her life had been threatened many times. In her business it was necessary to have good security. Mitch had been with her family for well over two years now. She hardly knew anything about him except his military background and professional stuff. He never spoke up much to offer, either. But, he was not difficult to keep around. He didn't interfere unless asked, or unless he sensed danger. So, he was good at the job and Rachel felt pretty comfortable with him around, so much, she often forgot he was there. But, not when it was just the two of them heading to the gym to meet the trainer. "Roderigo knows I can't do more than forty minutes today, right? I've still got meetings before dinner! Could you please remind him it's a shorter session today, while I'm changing? Oh, put on your workout stuff and maybe he'll have me spar against you like that one time...The only time I've ever punched somebody that hard and not even seen a flinch! That was fun! You are almost impossible to take down! Good fun trying, though!"

 

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Roderigo was not going easy on her today. The time constraint seemed to just make him more focused and rigorous in the exercises. She had doubled the speed of her aerobics after a quick warm up with little preamble. Then, was the mixed martial arts practice with new kata to learn and practice. Rachel was working up a sweat and her knees, shoulders, and thighs begged for a break, but she pushed herself to keep up without complaint.

"Good, good, Rachel. So glad you learn muy rapido. Now, you put you learning to use. Mitch, you want help today or jus watching?" Asked Roderigo in his thickly accented voice.

Rachel paused, her chest still heaving as she caught her breath. Her jade eyes caught the light of the overhead lamps and seemed to glow gold as they turned from Roderigo to Mitch in the mirror, waiting for his reply, mentally preparing herself to spar either of them.

 

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Usually, she felt Mitch holding back, almost bored, as she'd punch, kick, leap, and wail away on him. He'd usually just block her but didnt usually engage in many far throws or hard, fast, motions...Today was different.

Mind you, he wasn't being malicious. His face showed he was still playing around. But, he was really giving back, not just taking what she had to give. And, wow, did that make a difference! Rachel was loathe to surrender defeat but after the second throw basically tossed her across the mat like a ragdoll and jammed her shoulder hard into the mirror as she rolled too far, she realized this would be a beating if she or Roderigo didn't call an end to the exercise soon.

Just as Rachel stumbled in struggling to pick up her overexerted body with the recently hurt arm, Roderigo called out, "Ok, guysss, it's time to hit the showers! I see you on Monday."

Rachel let herself fall back down onto the mat, a puddle of sweat and ache, but she refused to appear weak. With great effort she rose to her knees, then up off the floor and shook Mitch's hand, sighing in exhilaration. "That...was...fantastic! I'm glad you're...usually...on...my side." She teased between gasps of air. "I'll see you... outside the... locker room." Surprisingly, the challenge had been the most fun she'd had in many weeks.

 

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Rachel was nearly at the end of the second meeting of the evening, a meeting with her people and herself along with famed photographer, Lisa Niels, about an upcoming photo spread regarding women in the Scientific Community, when Lisa suddenly surprised all those assembled with the announcement that this would be her last photo project for a duration of at least two months, maybe a whole year.

The motion in the conference room all stopped. Rachel's jaw dropped momentarily before she recovered enough to ask why. Lisa smiled proudly and produced a folder full of photos from her briefcase. Soon, a flurry of sonogram prints were being passed around the conference table with plenty of "ooh"'s and "aahh"'s as people congratulated the pregnant artist. Due date in May.

Rachel was stunned silent for a while. She'd come to depend on Lisa quite a bit over the past few years. It never even entered her mind as a possibility that one day she could lose the dependability of her favorite photographer's work in 'Robbin's Nest' due to motherhood. And, of course, she had no right to discourage her colleague from her desire to have a richer private life, but children and family often added fresh complications to all business. It's why Rachel never went down that road herself. She knew it wouldn't be possible for her to give her all to both parenting AND the business. Something would suffer and she knew, once committed to it, she'd probably fail miserably at both if she divided her efforts. Rachel greatly admired women who did somehow manage the balance of both well. Most, she thought ruefully, most did not.

With a sigh, she let the meeting become a happy celebration of motherhood for a while. Several moms at the table compared pregnancy stories with Lisa and gave her advice while others sought to distinguish where the actual living collection of cells was in the black and white, blurry, cavern of womb presented in the sonogram pictures. When it came into her own hands, Rachel found the little jelly bean that represented a future human person easily enough. She imagined the actual size was about that of a grain of sand and, yes, she was always impressed a bit by that information in an abstract sort of way, but she also quickly rejected the idea that this could ever happen to her and not completely ruin her life as she had built it to be. It made her kind of melancholy. She loved kids. She knew she'd adore her own. She also knew that the minute a child entered her life she'd lose her edge in the office. Loving her business more than any baby for the time being, Rachel sighed once more and passed the photos on to another.

After a while, she had to cut the celebrating short to properly address business again. "Lisa, thank you for the heads up. This is wonderful news for you and Richard. Congratulations!...Who do you reccommend we use in your stead for the 'Spring Fling' and 'Summer Dreams' issues?"

Back to business. Faces fell but recovery was quick. They were professionals. The meeting concluded with the photographer stunned into having to recommend her replacement and being told to enjoy her first months of motherhood...until the end of the year (The unspoken being that if her replacement is suitable she may be replaced until further notice.) and can return to the job on a project by project basis while the child is young. Although, it was presented, in honesty, as a manner of making reentry into the workplace easier on the new mommy; It was also to make running her business still go easily enough for Rachel as well. Nothing personal, thought Rachel, but my publications still need to go on with the same high standards of quality regardless of people's private life issues. That's just good business. (Still, it made Rachel feel like a shitty person by the end of the meeting.)

She said goodbye to everyone by the end of the usual business day and hugged Lisa, promising her this upcoming project would not be her last for the magazine as long as they stayed in touch. The office was almost empty and it was dark outside. Nearly 6:30, and a pensive Rachel told Rose, "Go home. I can handle the last bits of the day after dinner."

Rose handed off the whole bag of tricks to the boss lady and "punched out" as Rachel got changed for dinner. Thinking of other people having private lives, families, homes where people waited for them, to go to at the end of a busy work day had her feeling a little more lonely and self aware this evening. She didn't feel like eating alone and was a little bit bummed that daddy wasn't going to join her at the restaurant. As Mitch walked the unusually quiet redhead to her waiting limousine, she touched his arm before he opened the door for her and said, "Mitch, you hungry? Join me, please. It's on me."

 

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They entered the limousine together and Rachel directed the driver before replying to Mitch's statement about the sparring workout. "Yeah, that was probably the hardest we've ever sparred together...It was good, though...I like it better when you don't go easy on me." She admitted. "I like to earn my rewards. It feels better than just having people lie down and let me run them over. Brown nosing irks me."

As they arrived at the restaurant an hour later than expected, breezing past a long line of people to give her name to a matre'de who immediately pasted a fake, ass kissing smile across his face on sight of her, she smiled knowingly at Mitch in silent reminder of her earlier commentary about brown nosers. The rest of the staff was a flurry of panicked motion, but the table was still dutifully held empty despite the line out the door for those without reservations or deep pockets. Only, it hadn't been set yet.

"Madamoiselle, it will take just a few minutes to properly set your table..."

"Not to worry, err...Jacque. I'll get a drink from the bar while I wait (...just the one, of course. I usually only have a glass at a wedding or new year's, don't know why but I feel like a martini today.)."

"Superb idea, my apologies for the wait, once more. Someone will find you and bring you and your companion to the table as soon as it's ready."

"Thank you, Jacque."

"Thank you, Madamoiselle Robbins."

Rachel led the way to the bar where she ordered a gin martini with an olive and was surprised to be asked for identification.

"Sorry. The law..."

"Oh, uh...no, that's fine. It's just rather amusing. I haven't been carded in ages!" She said, fishing through her wallet for her i.d. "Flattering, really..." She said, handing it to the bartender who looked it over and a slow smile spread across his face as he handed it back to her with a congratulatory, "Happy Birthday, Ms. Robbins. For that, I'll give you two olives."

She was stunned for a second, "What? My b..." then thought about it, and a blush kissed her cheeks, "Oh my god, I forgot my own birthday." She realized.

The bartender went to get her drink and she shook her head in astonishment. "Mitch, do you want a drink?" She asked. "Order whatever you want. Apparently, we're celebrating my birthday!" She added with false cheer. Celebrating one's birthday with someone paid to spend time with you felt like a new low for Rachel. And, she found herself wondering if she had so few friends and relations that nobody seemed to notice or happened to even mention Rachel's 30th birthday today, not even George H. Robbins, himself. Sadness was slowly creeping over her by the time they were sought to be led to their table.

 

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The question was direct and spoke aloud the very same thought she'd been having at the same moment (without the "bum" addition, of course). Rachel felt stripped of her usual social mask, her shields were down for a change and this had been a direct hit. Her response was a soft and slightly bewildered, "I don't know."

Thankfully, she had a menu to lower her gaze to. She stared at the selections for a long, silent minute. Finally, she added, "I guess it's the nature of the business world. We forget everything but the work and time passes us by...I know if I forgot it myself until just now it isn't likely anyone else I know remembered either...All the people I know are as entrenched in 'Robbin's Nest' as I am...It's not as sad as it sounds. It's...It's ok...and you're not a bum. You're actually pretty reassuring company for some reason. I rather enjoy your company, Mitch."

They were rescued from too much awkward dancing around Rachel's lack of a social or family life by a waitress to take their orders. Once alone again, Rachel sipped her martini and reestablished eye contact with her dinner companion. "What's your usual birthday celebration like?"

 

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"The gentleman asked for steak and chips. It would be impolite for you to not honor his request." Rachel corrected.

"Yes, errr, um, my apologies, sir. I thought you were joking."

Rachel remained deadpan serious. "I don't think my friend here was. Mitch, were you joking?"

Both sets of eyes on him, Mitch shook his head no.

"No." Confirmed Rachel. "No, that's his order. Mine too. I feel like a medium rare sirloin with a garden side salad with ceasare dressing, and I'd also like chips."

"Anything else?"

"Come back and check in about twenty minutes. Meanwhile, salad and rolls at the table within five or I will complain about the service to Maurice himself (Maurice owned the restaurant).

"Yes, ma'am, right away!" And, she was away with the order in a flash leaving Rachel grimacing over the word ma'am.

 

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She'd deleted her searches, hadn't she? The chagrined expression Mitch wore told her everything. No. Apparently, her searches had not been as discretely hidden as she'd thought. Rachel looked down at her wringing hands like a chadtized child and formulated her response carefully. Was this going to be a blackmail attempt? "You...I thought I'd deleted my searches. How...much did you see?" She asked, careful not to give up any information until she knew exactly what Mitch knew and where he'd planned to take this conversation.

 

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They ate in silence for some time. She had much to mull over. This was a new side to Mitch that she was glimpsing tonight. It was mysterious, kind of dangerous, yet still comfortingly protective...kind of sexy too. He was much more interesting, as she peeled back his personality's layers, than she ever would have previously imagined.

Halfway through her steak, Rachel leaned forward and in a sultry voice just above a whisper, she asked, "How much experience have you yourself had in...these regards...and on what end of the exchange are you, most usually, the 's' or the 'D'? Or...is it all just unpracticed fantasy, all hypothetical, for you?" She asked with a naughty sparkle to her eye, covering her fresh blush with a sweep of a cool, freckled hand over heated cheek before reaching for her water, the martini long forgotten. When their eyes met again there was an unspoken request in the green depths, Will you teach me what you know?

 

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"Darling, I forgot to wish you happy birthday today but, rest assured, your gift has been sent to your townhouse. Are you at Maurice's?"

"Yes, yes, I'm in the middle of dinner now. Are you coming to join...after all?"

"...uh...no. I'm sorry darling. I'm not even in town at the moment."

"Leightonville?"

"Good guess, my dear, yes."

"Debbie Murray."

"Sweetie...I hadn't planned it this way..."

"Why her, dad? Thom Murray was your friend. Don't you find it kind of..."

"Thom was my friend, yes. A good one. And, he's been dead nearly a year. We miss him very much. And, Debbie has been needing support..."

"...which you're ever so happy to provide, and then some."

"Watch your tone, young lady."

"Sorry...You're both adults and single, so...whatever. Do what you want, dad."

"Will you be ok on your own today, Rachel?"

"Yes. I'm always fine on my own. Have fun. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Happy birthday, Princess."

"Yeah, thanks, dad. Bye."

After the phone call Rachel's spirits were at a new low. She felt stifled by everything which usually felt familiar and comforting. She felt like a caged animal however pretty the cage...Her expression reflected this clearly as she leaned forward and she said, "1, call me Rachel when we're alone together, or...well, you don't have to call me Miss. Robbins. 2, don't tell me what's appropriate. And, 3, take me someplace unlike anywhere I've ever been before and show me how to play submissive. I want to learn something new."

 

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Rachel considered this and her response was two words she'd never said before. The thrill of them made her entire being buzz and the look of dark pleasure in Mitch's told her it had done something for him as well. These magic words which would shape her future were simple but powerful,
"Yes, Sir." Rachel acquiesced, lowering her gaze demurely as she awaited further instruction.

 

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Rachel was fascinated by this exciting new game and the more exclusive and difficult Mitch made it sound, the more eagerly she wanted in. She couldn't wait to find out how he'd test her. Then, he rattled off instructions...humiliating, somewhat. Degrading, in a public restroom stall...She was still determined to do her best. With a quiet, "Yes, Sir. Right away." She was off to the toilets, knowing there was a time constraint.

Of course, it had to be a full ladies room this evening, just her luck! Rachel tapped a high heeled foot impatiently as she waited behind three other women for a free stall. She looked around at the tastefully decorated, posh bathroom and was grateful it would be this restroom she'd have to strip and kneel on the floor in. She knew from breezing through airport and subway bathrooms when the need hit that there were far worse conditions out there to be had in doing such a task.

Once it was her turn she knew she only had roughly four or five minutes left. She stripped quickly and set the timer on her phone once it was positioned just right. Her lipstick was "antique mauve" and she wrote the, "Yes Sir" so it would be easily read by Mitc...by Sir, in a hurry, tossing it back into her bag haphazardly. She couldn't help the smile playing upon her lips as the photo was taken. This whole situation felt so naughty, so rogue, so unlike her usually well planned, mannerly, proper life...That made it feel just right. Her bare legs were smooth and cold as she knealt, struggling to climb into her dress without alerting women outside the stall that she was doing anything unusual in there.

Rachel put her clothes back on according to instructions, tossing her leggings into her bag too. She rushed past the line of waiting women, some looking aghast that she hadn't stopped to wash her hands (they didn't know she hadn't needed to) and was out of the ladies room with just eight seconds to spare.

"Done, Sir." She announced proudly, the thrill of excitement running through her like electricity. Now, a nude photo of her existed. She'd have to keep a good eye on her phone...lest it fall into the wrong hands!

 

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Rachel wanted to protest the drink. She was not a big drinker and usually the loss of self control she associated with alcohol consumption made her nervous. But, since tonight was a night of breaking her habits and surrender of her control she ordered a glass of wine. She asked permission, abd recieved it as lobg as she hurried, to text her office and tell them to get the magazine to press without her but to email her a copy of the data before it was done. She'd ok it remotely. Once work was taken care of she was able to relax and let go some more.

Sipping carefully at the impossible second drink of the night, Rachel watched the women in the place so obviously throwing themselves at Mitch. No matter where he turned some trampy ho or another was chatting him up, hands all over him, appeals and hunger in the eyes vapid faces contained. He kept brushing them aside but they never fully got the hint. A flash of posessiveness passed through Rachel as she watched. Finally, halfway through her glass, she felt less inhibited and more annoyed with these bitches all over her Sir. Rachel watched him rebuff a woman named Rita and rolled her eyes when Rita left and was replaced by Marnie in his face. Rachel cleared her throat loudly and said, "Sir, don't you find all this...distracting?" just as Marnie walked off with the promise of returning once her drink was refreshed.