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Chapter One - The New Neighbors
Paula Auburn was a unique woman living a unique life. She was a genius toymaker, which was how she'd made a couple of million dollars from a licensing deal with a major toy company. Now, at the age of twenty-eight, she had her own computer game company in Norfolk, Virginia. To look at her, no one would believe she was a 'Type A' personality. At well under five feet, she was proud of her petite build, although she did wish she had a better figure. Without make up and her sexy clothes, she was practically boyish, and could easily pass for a pre-teen girl.

Bruce Putnam was everything she wasn't. Although tall and powerfully built, he was a quiet gentle fellow. Friends and co-workers called him Mr. Mellow. And yet, he could be strong and firm when necessary.

Recent events had thrust Paula and Bruce together. First Bruce had come to work for her company, then Paula's doctor had told her she needed to relax. She said Paula had a 'Type A-Plus' personality and she was destined for early death due to overwork if she didn't calm down. That led to Paula dating Bruce - at Paula's insistence.

Then came the accident. Paula was texting and talking on the phone while driving, and ended up causing a crash. In the aftermath, Bruce stepped up to the plate and helped her. He moved into her house, an old colonial-type place located in a secluded area along Kings River, and he took care of her. While she initially hated it, especially when he forced her to relax and play with her collection of toys, she eventually grew to enjoy their time together. Then he spanked her, and afterwards they made love and she experienced her first orgasm.

Now Paula's life had entered its unique phase. She was still CEO of her company and was incredibly creative. Yet she only worked three days a week, and often wore little girl panties under her business suit. She and Bruce carried out an age play relationship at home, one they kept hidden from friends, family and co-workers. He set out certain rules and chores for her, and punishment followed any infractions. One thing he definitely insisted on was her cutting back on work and relaxing more.

As the days ticked off, Paula began to feel an itch and it was one Bruce could not help her scratch. Her Type A+ personality was re-asserting itself. She wanted to create more, talk to more clients, and just plain work. So, being a genius, she came up with a simple solution. At night, after Bruce was asleep, she'd slip out of bed and go down to her office, and work. She was so light that she could walk around without making any creaks or squeaks of the flooring.

Chapter One - The Toymaker
Paula Auburn had a gift for thinking like a child. In her case, this was quite useful as she was a genius toymaker. She'd created the Hoop-de-Doo toy when she was a senior in high school, and then made a couple million dollars from licensing it to a major toy company. Once she graduated, she used the money to start her own computer game company. Two years later, the first of the Heidi Cooper Fantasy games came out. It was a smash hit, and the series made her company the newest of the Fortune 500 hits by the time she was twenty-eight. She was definitely a 'Type A' personality, even though she didn't look it. Several inches under five feet, she was petite, and proud of her firm build. Regular workouts at the gym were yet another way she exercised control over her life. The other was dominating at work, where she was the absolute authority on all things. With Paula, management was simple: do it my way or leave!

Into this organized chaos came Bruce Putnam - tall, powerfully built, and yet a quiet gentle fellow. He was called Mr. Mellow by his friends and his co-workers quickly followed suit. By the end of his first month at the company, a number of things had coalesced in his mind. He noticed that while the business was doing well, he could see trouble on the horizon. The place was disorganized and needed structure, and although he didn't know Paula too well, he could see that the company was like her life! The staff were frustrated with how things worked but they loved the benefits, pay, and working conditions. The place was a great working environment, and Bruce could see that the level of creativity was incredible.

The first clue as to the company's troubles came early. They were supposed to have a staff meeting every other Monday. So when the appointed day and time arrived, Bruce armed with his yellow legal notepad and notes on his projects, walked into the conference room and took a seat. The room was like everything else in the office: designed to impress and intimidate. It was large and spacious with a huge wooden oval table and colorful art on three walls (the fourth was a massive picture window that afforded them a spectacular view of Chesapeake Bay), and there were a few touches that indicated the purpose of the company was fun. In the corner was a football table, dart board, pool table, and a bookcase full of old fashioned board games.

As Bruce organized his notes, he was soon aware that no one else seemed ready for the meeting. Several people were starting a game of football, others were chatting about the latest movies, and Anne (the office manager) was dialing the local pizza parlor.

"So, who wants what on their pizza?" she called out.

1885. St Elmo, Colorado.

"Damn it, Charlie," said Hank, "what the hell is all that racket going on outside my saloon? Can't a man get a decent morning's sleep around here any more?"

Charlie continued to clean whisky glasses without even looking up. "Sorry boss. My guess is it's that new little lady in town - the one holding meetings every Sunday after church. She's been preaching about the sin of alcohol and gambling and getting the women folk hereabout all fired up."

Hank Reynolds frowned and scratched his dark shaggy head. "What new lady? For crying out loud, why would anyone be against a man having a drink and a game of poker?"

Charlie shrugged. "Don't ask me, boss. I ain't even married. Women and the way they think is a total mystery to me. But there's a whole bunch of females outside who wanna see this place shut down... reckon it's a den of wickedness, they do."

"A den of what?" Hank stopped trying to work out what his barman was going on about and instead marched out through the swing doors to assess the situation himself. There in front of his saloon were a group of women holding placards. Their annoying chants reinforced the messages on the white-painted boards, clearly aimed at ruining him. Slogans like 'Wicked Whisky' and 'Satan's Saloon' caught his eye. He held up his hands to attract their attention and hopefully shut them up. Their high pitched squawking was giving him a headache.

"Whoa there," he finally shouted as their raucous protests grew louder. "Hold up there and quit all the yelling, will ya?" His deep voice must have penetrated their determined throng, for the voices petered off and a dozen pair of female eyes turned on him with resentful glares. "You ladies are blocking my doorway and making a racket. You all have five minutes to disappear before I send for the Sheriff and have you arrested for disturbing the peace." His piercing blue eyes scanned the cluster of indignant protesters, recognising the majority of them. "And I'm guessing most of your husbands and daddies won't be too pleased about you causing trouble in town either."

There was a low ripple of muttering across the group and Hank hid a grin of triumph as several of the protest boards were lowered dejectedly into the dirt.

"My Sam would take his belt to me if he knew I was here," one woman admitted loudly. Several others nodded and there was a low murmur of assent.

"Daddy said he'd whup me if he ever caught me within ten yards of the saloon," announced a young girl. "And Daddy's strap hurts something awful when he takes it to my bare backside. I'm sorry, Eliza but I think I'd better be getting home."

As the women all began to slowly disperse, a petite figure dressed in black stepped forward and raised her hands urgently.

The Romantique Legacy
"I get it," she said rolling her eyes up. "I'm a screw up, what can I say?"

Zoe Frayne sat with her arms folded across a pink mohair pullover crushing her small but prominent breasts. The pink matched the tinge of dye in her black hair, the only visible concession the punk-come-Goth girl had made to her femininity. Her black faded jeans were ripped and the whole parody of an ensemble was covered with masculine leather biker jacket.

"Look at you, you're 25 and... what are you wearing?" Masterson sighed, "You have no job, you have spent the allotment your uncle gave you at 18, and you have given up on that PhD in what was it... the impact of music on Western Civilisation?"

Masterson, Zoe's late uncle's lawyer, listed her deficiencies on his fingers.

"I said I get it." Zoe shifted uncomfortably in the overstuffed leather armchair of the lawyer's office. "I had to make something of myself by the age of 25 or no filthy money." Masterson sighed again and sat back.

"That's it then, I'm screwed." Zoe threw him a sour expression as she got up to leave.

"You want to hear about plan B first?" he said wearily.

"I can see from your face that I won't like it," Zoe grunted and gave him another eye-roll as she slumped back down.

"Your late uncle Benjamin Romantique was a very wealthy man, but an eccentric one." Masterson let out a long breath.

This was nuts, he admitted, wondering how he was going to broach the subject.

"He was out of the Ark, I know that, but I always thought he was kind of cool," Zoe snorted.

"Old fashioned, yes, that's a positive take I suppose and that brings me to the point." Masterson leaned forward and made a bridge of his fingers as he clasped them as if in prayer. "There is a man called Anthony Barnwell Steel..."

Zoe shifted uncomfortably in her seat and blushed.

"...He was your uncle's friend... I see you know of him?" Masterson put in.

"We met when I was a kid..." The words clung to her mouth like a childhood lollipop being removed from a saucer.

"If you spend the summer with him, on his terms, then however it works out you get an indexed £30,000 a year until you are 30 and then a first payment of 10 million with a second 10 million when you marry or when you turn 45, whichever is first."

Zoe was still thinking of Tony Steel and that summer not so long ago when the 'second 10 million' got her attention.

"You mean I get 10 million quid when I marry?" she said incredulously. "But what if I don't want to get married?"

"You have to spend three months with Mr Barnwell Steel first. On the same terms as you had when your uncle was alive. I believe you know what that means?" Masterson let the question hang.

As Beth drove into the church parking lot, she was relieved to see it empty except for Dr. Lee's car. It was almost time for her regular 'Contrition' appointment with her Pastor, Dr. Lee, and she greatly preferred for it to be in private, especially today!

She let herself into the side door of the church. Her steps sounded hollow in the empty sanctuary as she headed for the basement stairway. She could have changed in the main ladies' room, but somehow using an empty Sunday school room felt more private. After a nervous glance at her watch, she quickly disrobed, removing first her blouse and slacks, and then her bra and panties. Naked except for her socks, she pulled her white 'Truth' gown over her head.

The gown was diaphanous and pure white, but otherwise unadorned. They were all lovingly made by Sister March, a retired seamstress. Dr. Lee had suggested the sheer material to 'let the truth shine through'.

She looked down at herself critically. The gown modestly obscured her well-preserved private charms, but the outline of her shapely figure seemed to project itself through the material. Her body was rounded in all the correct places. Her flaring hips accentuated a narrow waist and a tummy she kept flat only with great effort.

---oOo---
The adult church members called him Dr. Lee, out of respect for both the man and for the Doctor of Divinity degree displayed in an ornate frame in his office. Dr. Lee was a young man, and Faith Temple was his first church. He was still unmarried, but two of the members' daughters had recently reached marriage age and were showing distinct interest. Although single and younger than much of his congregation, Dr. Lee had become a popular and respected fixture in the church. In fact, all considered him a loved and trusted family member.

Catholics call it 'Confession', a system that has worked for them for centuries. At Faith Temple, they expanded on the concept and called it 'Contrition.'

After his first year as Pastor, Dr. Lee began to identify certain problems in the congregation, many of them leading to preventable marital problems. It was a middle class congregation, but most of the households were single-earner with the wife home all day. Dr. Lee felt that this was leading to trouble, so he decided to devote extra time to counseling the wives. At first, this was just a series of private pastoral talks with the ladies, but as he began to understand the problems, he began to take more direct action.

The sessions evolved into a scheduled biweekly private meeting with each female congregation member. They would go over everything that had happened in the lady's life over the last two weeks. At a suggestion from a parishioner, those special 'Truth' gowns were introduced. Wearing them for Contrition appointments set the proper mood and made everybody the same, removing all barriers of class and age.