My Dear Sister Ravanys,
As you know, I am the woman behind the machine.
The lines on the back of my stockings go all the way from the top down to the bottom, and that is how I prefer everything in life to function. The women in my family have controlled businesses and events throughout time in this part of America ever since Dorothy Hancock whispered her firm admonitions to her husband, John, during the birth of our great nation. We have always preferred to remain hidden, our power communicated and exercised through our husbands, our hired CEOs, legislators, and bank presidents. To betray the secrecy of our legacy, Sister Ravanys, is unthinkable, unnecessary, and frankly unpatriotic, not to mention dangerous. I am very, very satisfied being the woman behind the machine. It is what I do.
Each morning, I wake to go over financial reports, be briefed on news from one of my personal assistants, and take a car to the office. From there, I usually take a private jet to a round of meetings in whatever city it is I'm visiting. Every week, I have a briefing with the Commerce Secretary in Washington, and my husband holds a seat on the New York Stock Exchange where he dutifully caries out my wishes to the letter. My circle of assistants, lovers, and friends is small, but none of them ever fails me. It just isn't done, Ravanys. Ever.
It was on one such trip that I met him... back in February, I believe. And since then, things have been a bit more taxing for me. Uncomfortable, even. Of course, I could never tell anyone else this... That's why I'm confessing to you, Ravanys. I know we have an understanding, my dear. I was flying out from New York a little further south, where I had a meeting set with the President of a company who had put in a request for more funding. Very little gets by me, but when I am focused on one thing, I have tunnel vision, and so it was in the elevator that day, on the way to the 30th floor. That's when I heard his voice.
“Please watch your step, ma'am...” he said, his eyes fixed on mine, and he extended his hand. His dark brown hair was a bit tousled, and he had a beard, a beautiful grin on his face, and brown eyes that sparkled with an intelligent, attractive soul behind them. Uncharacteristic of me, I took his hand, thoughtfully looking at him, and walked inside. His suit was finely tailored, but it was easy to see the graceful, muscular movements beneath the wool fabric. “Thank you...” I paused, hoping he would give his name. And he did. A glance to my assistant was all that was needed. I would know everything about the man within a span of a few hours – his position, where he lived, what his favorite foods were, his financial history, what cologne he used, and anything else I wanted to know. I had found something interesting, and I immediately wanted him.
I may not have mentioned this just yet, Ravanys, but, like you, I always get what I want.
It turned out he was a mid-level manager, but brilliant... so much potential. Research had showed that he'd systematically worked through many of the company's issues, and few had not noticed his efforts. Discreet questioning had revealed what I knew – and I am never wrong – that he was a true gem. I had handpicked nine CEOs in the last twelve years, groomed them all, and I know quality material when I... am escorted into an elevator by one, Ravanys. Not only was he that kind of man... but he was even more. When I began to investigate deeply, I discovered much more about him... MUCH more. I found a secret love of his to be controlled by powerful women. You can't even imagine the way my lips curled up, the dizzying pleasure I felt when I read that he had a discreet love for Femdom. Dorothy Hancock would be so proud. He was simply ideal.
I had been careful the last few months, getting regular updates on his progress through my assistant and his contacts in the company, waiting for the right time. It may take months... it could take a few years, but I had already written the plan and was sure. So you can imagine, Ravanys, my surprise when I heard he was leaving to go work for a competitor. Over breakfast that morning, I wrestled with the idea of completely ceasing funding for his company, and just backing the other, but I decided it was time to finally show my hand to the President.
“Hello, my dear, how are you? Yes... Of course. I hope I didn't catch you at a busy time... Well, thank you for taking this opportunity to discuss a sensitive issue with me. There's a profile of a man in your employ that I have been looking over, and I am quite concerned. I've just heard that he's going to be moving on with a different company. My assistant is sending over the information now to you, if you could take a look. Yes.. I can wait... Yes, that's him. Yes... I think it's very important for him to stay on, and for you to do whatever it is necessary to keep him there. Not too much preferential treatment, mind you... but I have a feeling about him. Yes, whatever it takes. Thank you, my dear... you've always been wonderful to work with. Yes, I haven't forgotten, and I do appreciate you. Thank you... Goodbye.”
The reason why I'm contacting you now, Ravanys, is because that one simple encounter in the elevator has invaded my dreams, my thoughts recently, my dear. What should just be a simple matter of choosing yet another man for a position I need filled has become something more. Every piece of information I learn about him draws me closer, and I am, every day, wanting to know more and more about his little world. I've almost become embarrassed at the number of times in a week I ask Charles for any additional updates about the man's activities. I even hired a private car to take me past his home just a few days ago... I can't even put my finger on why I'm so intrigued by him, but I've got to get a handle on this almost-obsession. I know you understand, and you can be discreet, and perhaps bearing this burden up to you, my dear, will relieve me somewhat of the ache that I have to touch those fingertips again, and to meet those eyes, to wield my power over him, and consume him with my will.
Until then, I will do whatever necessary to protect my identity. I can never cross that line – there's just too much at stake. But a small piece of advice from your lips would be appreciated my dear. Thank you for hearing me.
I am ever your friend.
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