Campaign for Love (4 page)

 

 

"It's different with me, Elsa. Lots of girls we know are oversexed
but
don't look it. They're pretty-beautiful, even-but not sexy. Yet,
they're always going to bed with someone, anyone. I look so hot that
I'm almost a caricature.

 

 

"Still, not only am I that ridiculous rarity on the market, a
twenty-seven year old virgin, I've never even had the slightest sex
urge until now. Being touched by a man either scared or disgusted
me,
depending on the man."

 

 

"From the little you've told me of that nasty childhood experience,
that's understandable. Wait a minute! Run that by me again."

 

 

"I said being touched by a man-"

 

 

"No. Not that. Before."

 

 

"You mean about no urge until now?" she repeated.

 

 

"That's the zinger."

 

 

Suzy sighed, caught out at last. "Yes. Well, I think perhaps I've
might
be getting over that hang-up, and have put things in their proper
perspective now that I'm older and more confident. Until today, I've
sometimes thought that I'm a truly frigid woman."

 

 

"No way. But as glad as I am to hear you sounding so positive, just
be
careful, okay. For one thing, I'm guessing it's a work colleague."

 

 

"Yes. My boss, in fact."

 

 

"Darn."

 

 

"I know. Worse luck. Though I'm glad of the job."

 

 

"For another thing," her friend said even more soberly, "you may
think
you're over it, but sometimes the subconscious plays strange tricks.
Some day you're going to fall hard, and all that love you've been
saving will be lavished on some man. He's going to be a most happy
fella."

 

 

"I'd like to think you're right," said Suzy cautiously, "because
today
I think I felt the first faint stirring of something. My boss is a
dream, and twice, once when he shook hands and again when he
accidentally leaned on my shoulder, I got a warm tingle all over."

 

 

"Ah!" breathed Elsa. "Sex rears its lovely head."

 

 

"I thought that was ugly head," remarked Suzanna.

 

 

"Don't you believe it, honey. Take it from one who knows. With the
right partner, it's lovely."

 

 

Suzy reclined more fully against the back of the sofa. "I think I
can
understand that now. Quentin Pierce is a completely perfect, utterly
gorgeous specimen of manhood. He has black curly hair, midnight-blue
eyes, and is about thirty-five, single, no serious attachments, but
lots of pursuers. I don't think I'd mind it with him."

 

 

"You scare me. You've certainly come a long way in one day! Just
don't
go overboard over the first man to stir you. I'll admit, though, he
sounds pretty special."

 

 

"He is. I wanted to kill myself for making myself so unattractive."
Her
lush pink lips formed into a pretty pout that no man would ever be
able
to resist.

 

 

"I told you it was a mistake. But at least it sounds as if you're on
your way to recovery."

 

 

"I'll drink to that," laughed Suzy, "but now I'd better get to my
dinner before it burns."

 

 

"Me too," said Elsa. "I've got a TV one in the oven. I bet whatever
you're having is so much better than mine, lucky girl. I'll call you
later in the week. If you're not doing anything, we can get together
over the weekend."

 

 

They said goodbye and rang off.

 

 

Suzy rescued her stew before it scorched and enjoyed it with a
salad,
coffee and a home-made brownie. She liked to cook and she liked to
eat,
and was fortunate enough to never have to worry about her figure,
mainly because there was never anyone in her life to impress--quite
the
opposite in fact.

 

 

After dinner, she relaxed by sitting down to play some of her old
favorites on her spinet. She felt so good that she sang along in a
pleasant contralto when she knew the words. Suzanna could read
music,
but she preferred playing by ear. She enlivened many a party amongst
her circle of friends by taking refuge from unwelcome male advances
at
the piano.

 

 

She had an amazing repertoire, and always drew a sing-along crowd
calling requests, which she could almost always play. It was an
old-fashioned hobby, she knew, but she had come from a musical
family,
and considered playing the piano to be a lost art which everyone
seemed
to admire.

 

 

Having rid herself of the tensions of the day, Suzy sat in her
favorite
easy chair to watch a couple of sit-coms. Since advertising was her
main passion in life, even before cooking, eating and playing the
piano, she took as lively an interest in the commercials as in the
programs. Pad at the ready, she took notes on everything she saw,
both
the good and the bad.

 

 

She turned in after the eleven o'clock news, first taking time to
lay
out a full, unbelted, unbecoming gray dress for morning.

 

 

Maybe, mused Suzanna, if I stick to Mother Hubbard-type clothes, I
can
take a chance and leave off that cursed chastity belt. In a few
weeks
I'll start wearing shawls to cover my chest. Then I'll do away with
the
rest of the iron maiden outfit.

 

 

If the changeover is gradual enough, it won't even be noticed. And
by
the time the holidays roll around, I'll take down my hair and leave
off
the glasses. If anyone asks, I can say I got contact lenses.

 

 

Suzanna crawled under the covers, picturing herself at the office
Christmas party as "Sexy Suzy" once more.

 

 

Suzanna shivered as she imagined the reaction of Quentin Pierce. She
felt an inner heat as she dwelt in detail on his crisp, black hair,
deep blue eyes and strong, warm hands.

 

 

She blushed as she tried to imagine how it would feel to have his
sensual mouth on hers. She licked her lips and folded her arms over
her
strangely hard breasts, then dropped into a restless slumber in
which
she writhed ecstatically under Quentin's warm caresses and soft
kisses
all over her body.

 

 

She came awake suddenly in awed wonder at the moistness between her
thighs.

 

 

"So that's what Elsa meant," she sighed to herself.

 

 

Quickly, she sought sleep once more, but her hopes were in vain.
Sleep
came, but not the thrilling dreams of Quentin Pierce's lovemaking.

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

 

Suzanna was hard at work in her own office long before her boss
Quentin
put in an appearance the next day. This was all to the good, because
Suzy's dreams from the night before still preyed on her mind. She
was
afraid that her unfortunate tendency to blush might give away her
guilty secret.

 

 

She had left her door open so that Mr. Pierce couldn't surprise her
again. She was ungirdled, but had compensated for the omission by
wearing a long, sleeveless tunic over the full gray dress. It would
take a mighty sharp eye to detect the contours of a gorgeous
derriere
under all those drapes.

 

 

Suzy had one layout left from the previous day. By the time Quentin
Pierce arrived, she had it pretty well in hand.

 

 

As he approached his desk and noticed Suzy at hers, he called in,
"Good
morning, Ms. Sills."

 

 

"Good morning, Mr. Pierce," answered Suzy.

 

 

He continued walking, but toward her office this time.

 

 

"That was a good job you did on those two accounts yesterday. I'll
have
some more for you a little later on. You work fast, but don't let me
pressure you."

 

 

"Thanks, Mr. Pierce. No sweat. I work best under pressure."

 

 

She got up to meet him, carrying the last layout, to see if what
she'd
done so far met with his approval.

 

 

As they neared one another, they accidentally locked eyes once more,
and Suzanna again detected a slightly puzzled expression. She held
out
the work for his inspection. Their hands brushed, and her senses
caught
fire. He took the papers from her trembling hands, while Suzy
stepped
away from him.

 

 

Simultaneously, Quentin Pierce took a backward step. Then, reaching
out
awkwardly, he handed her the pages, mumbling, "Very nice. Very nice
indeed."

 

 

Turning on his heel he returned quickly to his own desk, where he
began
shuffling papers in an aimless way.

 

 

It was about half way through the morning when Mr. Pierce called
Suzy
on the intercom. "Ms. Sills, I have that new batch of layouts for
you
to thrash out," he said.

 

 

"Okay, Mr. Pierce," answered Suzy, eager to get cracking on another
project or two so he could really see what she was made of.

 

 

Rising immediately, she went to his desk to pick up the worksheets.
Every step or the way, she sensed that his eyes were raking her from
top to bottom and back again from behind his thick lashes and the
paper
he was pretending to read. She even imagined she could feel him
mentally stripping away the concealing clothing from certain key
places.

 

 

As she picked up the sheaf of papers, he seemed to shake his head as
if
to clear cobwebs from his brain and turned his face away while
fumbling
in one of his desk drawers. Suzanna did a fast about-face to avoid
witnessing more of his discomfiture.

 

 

Back at her desk, Suzy wondered what Quentin's problem could be. It
was
significant that she didn't even know when she had started to think
of
him as Quentin, and not Mr. Pierce.

 

 

As she flipped through the new layouts to see if any ideas came to
mind
and how big a challenge the new work would be, thoughts of Quentin
kept
intruding while she pondered on his possible problem.

 

 

Could it be that unattractive women make him nervous? Is it my
appearance that makes him so edgy? she asked herself.

 

 

Surely not, was her only possible answer. Although Suzy had done all
she could to play down her spectacular looks and figure, no one had
tried to feed her dog biscuits.

 

 

At worst, she could imagine people saying, 'She'd be a pretty
good-looking girl if she'd get some makeup, a decent hair-do, and
maybe
contact lenses. Her figure mightn't even be too bad with nice
clothes
and a good bra.'

 

 

No, she mused, nobody's whistled, but nobody's throws rocks either.

 

 

So what was his problem?

 

 

Only time would tell. For now, she bent her head to her next
assignment, delighted to have such a fantastic job at such a
prestigious firm, and determined to make the most of it.

 

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

Suzanna worked right the way through the eleven o'clock coffee
break,
teasing out the ideas for the new whole-grain cracker campaign which
was next in the pile.

 

 

She got up to stretch about noon, and found Sharon hovering just
outside her door.

 

 

"I wasn't sure whether or not to disturb you."

 

 

"You're always welcome if the door is open."

 

 

"Care to go to lunch again? You've been hard at it all morning, and
you
got in even earlier than I did."

 

 

"Sure thing. Let me just grab some water from the cooler, and go
wash
my hands."

 

 

"Fine. I'll just tell him we're heading out."

 

 

"Great, thanks."

 

 

Suzy hurriedly did as she said, grabbed her purse, and joined Sharon
by
her Swedish modern pale oak desk. "All set."

 

 

It was Suzy's guess that as Mr. Pierce's private secretary, Sharon
was
not part of the office clique, and so she was glad to have someone
closer to her own status as a companion.

 

 

Although Sharon must have realized that Suzanna's position in the
company was a big step above her own, Suzy wasn't the type to call
attention to the fact. Suzanna was equally pleased to have a friend
willing to show her the ropes.

 

 

Sharon led the way to the canteen and again introduced Suzanna to
several young men and women, who all greeted her politely, then
turned
back to resume conversations with their own friends.

 

 

One exception to this was a man about Suzy's age, perhaps a bit
older,
who was one of the Junior Executives and, as Suzy found out later,
aspired to Quentin Pierce's job somewhere down the line.

 

 

His name was Brad Sherman, and for some reason, Suzy disliked him on
sight. Her instinctive reaction would not go away, despite the fact
that he was bending over backwards to be pleasant.

 

 

"So you're Quentin's new girl wonder," he remarked with a smile upon
being introduced.

 

 

"I don't know about that," answered Suzanna. "I am, however, Mr.
Pierce's new assistant."

 

 

"That's what I meant. Only two days on the job and you're already
making a name for yourself on the managerial level."

 

 

"That's encouraging," Suzanna said carefully. "When you're this new,
it's nice to know you've started out on the right foot."

 

 

"Very definitely," said Brad as he got to his feet. He had finished
eating, and got up to clear away his place. As he was turning to
leave
he said, "Glad to have met you. We'll probably see more of one
another.
Goodbye."