Campaign for Love

Michaela Brennan

1-58345-285-0 144 pp. $10.00

Domhan Books

Tired of being hassled over her gorgeous looks, Suzanna Sills dresses down to get a wonderful new job in a top-notch advertising agency. She soon begins to regret her frumpy new appearance when she has to work side by side with the gorgeous Quentin Pierce.

Quentin hasn't failed to notice that his hottest new star in the company has more to her than meets the eye. But a desperate attempt to discredit her on the part of a work colleague gets them both into a spin. Can they avoid losing the biggest ad campaign the company has ever seen, and learn to trust one another?

buy the paperback buy the ebook

Michaela Brennan

Michaela works in an advertising agency in London, and plays piano and cooks in her spare time.

Chapter One

 

Seated in the outer office when Suzanna Sills entered were four other young hopefuls, one of them male. Suzanna announced herself to the secretary with a pleasant "Good morning," after which she turned toward the other four with a diffident smile and took a chair.

She couldn't help noticing the complete indifference in the man's eyes as they slid past her en route to the three decidedly pretty girls beyond, or the smug look exchanged by the girls themselves as they dismissed her with a slight air of disdain.

"Good!" thought Suzanna. "It's working!"

Suzanna had applied for the position of assistant to the top advertising executive of the biggest and best advertising agency on Madison Avenue, Elder and Rubin. She looked neat and well-scrubbed. Beyond that her only concession to her femininity was a slight application of pale pink lip gloss. Until she had walked into the room, she'd had no way of knowing what the competition would be. Now she knew that there had been at least four other applicants with equally good resumes who had been given appointments. Probably a good deal would hinge on the personal interview.

The wait seemed endless as the four other aspiring copywriters were called in turn. Each one left with a self-conscious show of confidence and a brisk step as if relieved that the ordeal was over. They studiously avoided the eyes of the other applicants.

Finally it was Suzanna's turn. As she strode purposefully into the inner sanctum, she was aware of a large man silhouetted against the light from a huge floor to ceiling window behind him. She approached his desk and extended her hand in a no-nonsense manner. "How do you do? I'm Suzanna Sills."

Her hand was enveloped in a firm clasp. She looked up into the man's face, which she could see clearly now that she was close enough to be shaded from the window's glare. Then strange thing happened. Her knees felt weak, her heart started to pound. She cursed the impulse that had made her turn herself into a dowdy frump. As if from a distance, she heard his deep, resonant voice say,

"How do you do? I'm Quentin Pierce. Won't you sit down?"

Suzanna took the chair opposite his desk and sat erect, both feet firmly on the floor, skirt well below her knees and hands folded demurely in her lap. Quentin Pierce seemed to be taking her in from head to toe with a faint smile, almost of amusement.

Examination complete, he said, "Relax, Ms. Sills. I've gone over your resume, and I liked what I saw. You've started out with a slight edge over your competitors, which is why I held you back until the last.

"But tell me, why have you changed positions three times in five years? You weren't fired, so the moves were always voluntary. Yet, you don't look flighty. I'd hate to get you all broken in as my assistant and right-hand person only to have you decide to move on."

"To be perfectly frank, Mr. Pierce, my previous positions have all been dead-ends, as far as I could see. I was passed over several times for promotions merely because I was a woman, I'm sure. My work was as good as, or better than, that of any man who was promoted over me.

"Also, I found there was a great deal of duplicity. Many times a superior took credit for my work merely by submitting it to management as his own. I felt that in a top-rated agency, things like this wouldn't happen and promotions, if any, would be strictly on merit, irrespective of sex."

He nodded, seeming not in the least perturbed by her frankness. "Well put, Ms. Sills. You are absolutely correct in your reasoning so far as I can see. Well, now that we've got that out of the way, I think we'll make a good team."

He rose and proffered his hand as he said, "Welcome to Elder and Rubin, Ms. Sills. Can you start work immediately?"

She blinked, and then jumped hastily to her feet. She was so delighted that, without thinking, she gave him a dazzling smile as she looked him in the eye, shook his hand enthusiastically and trilled, "I certainly can, Mr. Pierce."

Suzanna realized her mistake the minute she detected the quizzical look in his eyes as if, in his original assessment, he had somehow overlooked something important. He dropped her hand as if it were hot.

It probably is, with nerves, thought Suzy, embarrassed.

"One more thing, Ms. Sills, although it doesn't really matter now. We do check out references or people being considered for positions before we schedule any appointments. Your last employer said, and I quote, 'the young woman has too much appeal for her own good. It's difficult to take her work seriously.' What did he mean by that?"

Suzanna shrugged, and hoped that her face had remained neutral. Why, that swine, how dare he! She had half a mind to go after him for the sexist pig he was.

"Who knows? The man is a middle-aged lecher who can't keep his eyes to himself. He's a stereotype who doesn't take any woman seriously because he's too busy thinking of them as playthings for men. I feel sorry for his wife."

He looked at her carefully again, and then gave a small smile. "I'll buy that, if only because you don't look to me like a sexpot, and I have no trouble at all taking you seriously."

"A dubious compliment at best, Mr. Pierce, but thanks for the vote of confidence." "Sorry. It wasn't meant as a put-down. Now that you're officially on the payroll, I'll notify personnel. In the meantime, your office is right through that door. Perhaps you'd like to look it over and get settled in today, that is, if you haven’t got anything else planned. If there's anything you need, just call through. We will get your e-mail accounts and so on set up straight away. Also, you'll notice there's a folder of unfinished work on your desk, left by your predecessor, I'm afraid. You're inheriting all of it as well as the office, but don't let that put you under too much pressure. We will let you find you feet in your own time.

"In the folder, you'll notice there are three layouts for three different clients. I've outlined the basic ideas. What I'd like you to do is fill in appropriate copy, and don't hesitate to put in any fresh, new ideas of your own in the way of logos or slogans."

Quentin Pierce nodded his head in dismissal. Suzanna stared at him for a moment, and then opened the door which led from his to her office. She closed it behind her in case he wanted privacy, and then began to investigate her new domain.

Her office, like Quentin's, had a huge picture window with a magnificent view of Manhattan's caverns and skyscrapers. She could see right up Madison Avenue. Her desk was enormous and her quarters spacious. The latest in laptop computer was on her main desk, and there was a conference table in the far corner, with plenty of room to spread out. There was a large filing cabinet in the corner next to a door which proved to be a cloakroom and private bathroom, separated from it by another wooden door. On the other wall was a comfortable-looking studio couch.

There was a padded swivel chair behind the desk and two leather armchairs in front of it. Several straight-backed chairs with a cushioned seat were at the conference table. A small shelf next to the wardrobe held a twelve-cup electric coffee pot. The furnishings were completed in deep-pile forest green carpeting.

Very comfortable, thought Suzanna. So far they haven't missed a thing.

She went into her lavatory, and was somewhat taken aback to find that, in addition to the usual facilities, there was a stall shower, and even a hairdryer.

Suzanna freshened up, put her jacket on a hanger on the clothes rack, and took her seat behind the desk. She smiled a little as she thought back to her time in the outer office just a short while ago.

Isn't it ironic, she mused, that those three pretty girls were so convinced that they would get the job because of their looks, and I'm doing whatever I can to disguise mine.

She tugged the heavy supporting sports bra she had put on in an effort to disguise her figure, and settle her flowing, figure-concealing dress around her more comfortably.

At last, thought Suzy, I'm on my way up, and no one can ever say, 'Sure! He picked the one with the great looks!' She chuckled to herself at the idea.

But if I'd known in advance what Quentin Pierce looked like, I might have had second thoughts about my transformation, she admitted to herself as she picked up one of the incomplete layouts and looked at it absentmindedly whilst trying to recall Mr. Pierce's appearance. Though she knew that it was a no-no in the nineties to think of work colleagues in such a way, he surely was handsome.

Tall, she itemized to herself. Maybe six-three, very masculine, broad shoulders, narrow waist, flat stomach, slender hips, a tight rear and absolutely gorgeous! Her mind recalled his masses of black, unruly curls and deep blue eyes.

If I were interested in looking for a man, which I'm not at the minute, I'd probably love to run my fingers through those curls and drown in those eyes, she reflected with a sigh.

She frowned at this thought, and shook her head. For heaven's sake, it was only her first day on the job. She couldn't afford to let herself be distracted.

But ever the professional, even as her mind had been wandering off onto Quentin's wonderful attributes, Suzanna had been sorting through the three pieces of work on her desk. A couple of ideas worth developing further came to mind.

Then, unbidden, she recalled the look Quentin Pierce had given her when she'd inadvertently smiled at him nagged at her conscience.

I'll have to remember to smile with my lips closed, and sort of veil my eyes, she decided. Suzy knew only too well the power of her eyes. They were the one asset she couldn't do much to disguise, even with the horn-rimmed window glass specs she was wearing. They were unbelievably wide-spaced and large with a thick fringe of long, sooty lashes, upper and lower. The irises were light amber with a ring of sea green around the pupil, making them seem larger than they were.

She was still deep in reverie when she absent-mindedly removed the heavy black tortoise frames to rub the bridge of her nose.

There was a light knock at the door, which was immediately opened by the subject of her musings. Suzanna looked up, startled, with the phony glasses still dangling from her hand. She recovered almost immediately, and using both hands, she pushed them back up onto her patrician nose, but not, she feared, soon enough. He'd taken a good look at her without them.

"I hope I didn't startle you," said Mr. Pierce 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. 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 marvellous 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 'wiggle'.

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

"Thank you," said Suzy, and 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 wet-nurse you, Ms. Sills. 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 sexually aroused. It was a new and wonderful feeling that Suzanna had despaired of knowing. 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 knew she was well on her way to a cure.

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, could 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.

 

The rest of the day passed uneventfully enough. Suzanna had lunch with Quentin Pierce's private secretary, whom she had met when she arrived for her appointment that morning. Her name was Sharon Welsh and she was an attractive red-head. She had waited for Suzanna at her desk, and asked 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.

"I'll introduce you to some or the copy-writers and Junior Execs on our floor. They're really the only ones you'll ever come in contact with, anyway. 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.

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

Admittedly, according to Sharon, "Mr. 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."

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 do you?"

The women, however, were invariably 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.

Really, 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 is 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 or my 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 Pierce 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 always 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 stepped wearily into the elevator of her apartment building and pushed the button for the fourth floor.

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 ash-blond hair float free to her soft shoulders. She attacked her wavy locks with a comb and 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, her train of thought continued 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 two pair of lamb's kidneys at the market the day before. She sautéed them 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 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 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 to a knot on top or 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. 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.'"

"It's different with me, Elsa. Lots or 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 drug 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 sex urge until now?"

"That's the zinger."

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

"No way. 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."

"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."

"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 frozen one in the oven. 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 lucky 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 spinnet. 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, she took as lively an interest in the commercials as in the programs.

She retired 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 stoles and shawls to cover my chest. Then I'll do away with the rest of the iron maiden. 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 to Quentin's warm caresses and soft kisses all over her body.

She came awake suddenly in awed wonder at how roused she had become.

"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 Pierces's lovemaking.

buy the paperback buy the ebook

Buy the RCA reader versions! $6

Reviews:

A sizzling novel. The chemistry between the hero and heroine is superb. She is sassy and bold, but it takes true love to awaken her to the joys of passion. A super read from a fabulous new talent. - Jacinta Carey

I loved it! A divine hero, a gutsy girl with a problem we all think we would LOVE to have, and an excellent cast of supporting characters to create a wonderful world for the modern romance reader. This was one book I did not want to put down! -Evelyn Trimborn

buy the paperback buy the ebook

Buy the RCA reader versions! $6

Catalog Home

If you enjoyed this page, tell your friends: e womp it!