Scenes From An Italian Restaurant-Finale

(Continued from Scenes From An Italian Restaurant- Three)

Antonio lay the spatula across her back and held it with his left hand. With his right, he cupped her bottom gently. “This is going to be good one”, he said.

“I know”, she peeped.

“But when you’re done-it will all be over.”

“Clean slate!” she said softly to the floor.

Marie saw the first swat coming and still jumped, startled by the sound at impact. She hadn’t settled when the second landed in the same place; fully on the right globe which after only two smacks was flushing pink. The third landed more in the middle of her butt resonating down her shallow crack and between her legs. Then the other cheek. Marie’s eyes wandered nowhere else but she kept her hand at her breast as if to keep her heart inside.

Connie, for her part, hung on gritting her teeth and trying to dig her fingertips into the hard floor tiles. She was surprised that her eyes were stinging already. Yes, his hand was heavy, yes his hand hurt, yes her ass was burning. But not enough to make her cry. She blinked when a smack landed low, where the bottom meets the leg, and a tear splashed delicately between her hands. Her mouth, already open, betrayed her with a small cough. Then another and finally a whispered “Ouch”.

“Well” said Tony, “I’d say that’s enough for the warmup.”

“Oh Dear…” thought Marie and, with no thought of sitting, slipped behind the bar table as if behind a battlement protecting her from what she was seeing. And what was she seeing-or feeling? It was strange how her own bottom was itching. Connie gave no outward sign of crying, just the drops that were sprinkling silently onto the floor. She felt his movement and the spatula was gone from her back.

“Are you ready for this Constance?”

“Yes, Chef. Please.”

She exhaled and relaxed, softening her clenched bottom.  At the first stroke of the spatula she allowed a wall to buckle and cried “Owww…” Then, after the third, began crying in earnest. The swats burned and she reacted to each with a yelp or a twist but all under the soft veil of tears that had seemingly come forth unbidden-on their own.

Chef Tony was nothing if not precise. The welts he was leaving on her bottom were adjoining but seldom overlapping. Connie was not a kicker but couldn’t stop her legs from scissoring nor her toes from dancing, bundling her jeans and panties at her ankles. As she cried beneath his hand, Antonio twisted his arm around her waist and increased the tattoo on her aching bottom to a loud fast “Rat-tat-tat”. Marie’s hands had moved from her breast to her face. When she told about it later she would swear later that Chef’s arm was a blur.

“Tony!” she called to him after another moment. “Tony?”

He stopped what he was doing and looked up as if surprised to find someone else in the room. Without the loud cracking, slapping and wailing, a silence colored only by Connie’s soft sobbing, settled over the room.

“Yes Marie?”

She was holding out a handkerchief toward Connie’s head. Antonio nodded. She approached and held the hanky down where her friend could see it. The floor between her hands was puddled.

“Thanks”, snuffled Connie taking it and drying her eyes as best she could. Marie stood a moment next to the furnace that was Connie’s backside. No longer pink, it was a mottled red and burgundy-the color of spilled wine. She retreated back to her spot behind the table but there was no need.

“Are you done sweetheart?” asked Tony softly, gently cupping her bottom.

She took a deep breath, thinking about it and wiped her nose. “Yes, Chef.”

He patted again. “Good. Come on….”

He helped her up and she stood shakily beside him patting her bottom. He stood and wrapped his strong arms around her squeezing. Her rear glowed like a brazier in the dim light and Marie eventually looked away. “Beautiful”, was all he said kissing Connie on top of the head.  “Now pull up your pants…”

“Can’t I leave them down?” she sniffled, patting her glowing butt.

“No you can’t”, he said lightly. “Not that kind of place.”

He turned his attention to Marie.

“Now, you….”

“What?” she asked in a gasp. He said nothing else. She felt a need to fan herself but didn’t move.

“What Chef?” she asked again having slid back behind the table.

“You’re never too old you know.”

“For what? For…no way Chef! I’m too…” she stopped herself.

“No you’re not.”

“Chef. Tony. I couldn’t…”

“Then why are you here?”

The truth nearly escaped when she opened her mouth, but instead she said, “For her!” and waved her hand toward Connie hoping for some support. Her friend was seemingly paying no attention, engrossed in gingerly pulling up her panties then her jeans, trying not to scrape unduly across her hot skin.

“Connie?” she asked.

“I think you should,” she said in a small voice not looking up.

“What?! I…Chef…”

“If not now, when?”, asked Connie finally looking up.

“O Jesus”, she said to herself. The room seemed to be moving around her.

“Take off your jacket Marie…” said Tony, feeling that she needed a direction.

Words died in her mouth. She desperately wanted to tell him that she did want this-that she’d wanted it for a long time but couldn’t imagine how to ask. She might have been able to live her whole life out without this if he and Connie hadn’t started playing like this. Was it their fault? Was it hers? Was it anyone’s? This is what she was thinking as she was saying nothing…and unbuttoning her jacket.

Chef Tony sat back down and beckoned her over. She slid out from behind the table dragging her hand across the top. It took an hour to cross the three strides. She waggled a finger and Connie who was now, fully clothed and watching. “You, you….”

Connie smiled through her tear streaked face and leaned against the bar.

Marie stood before her seated boss with her hands at her sides not resisting as Tony reached out and unsnapped her jeans. He unzipped them and worked them down over her hips.

“You might need a bigger spatula for me.”

Connie giggled…

“I think my hand will cover enough ground.”

He helped her into position. “I don’t fit as well as that one…”

“You fit fine. Now lift up”.

“Tony-Really?”

He patted the tight cotton encasing her bottom. “Really.”

She lifted up, and squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment as he slowly pulled down her underwear. She mouthed a nasally “Ooohhh…” to convince anyone listening including herself that she wasn’t giving into this easily. She breathed deeply as the cool air washed over her naked bottom. Then she felt his hot hand on the back of her thigh.

“Tell me again what I’ve done to deserve this.”

“Lived too long without it.”

She relaxed and felt her body form to his lap. He wasn’t in a hurry. “Yes…Too long…” she sighed just loudly enough to be heard by both.

Those are beautiful sandals she thought absently as she grabbed Antonio’s ankle and waited.

Scenes From An Italian Restaurant- Three

tumblr_oljhezHEcD1vmx9x8o1_500

Uncredited from Tumblr

(Continued from Scenes From An Italian Restaurant – Two)

At six sharp the staff was gone, the door locked, house lights out and the bar dimmed. Connie and Marie moved through the room staying busy-wiping the clean bar or counting cheese in the fridge for the fifth time. At 6:10 Connie looked at the clock and sighed, untying her apron.

“Jesus, Tony”, she whispered.

“Yeah, right…” Marie answered tightly peeling her tongue from the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t have been more nervous if she were the one awaiting a spanking.

Then, ten minutes later, they heard the kitchen door swing open and their eyes settled on Antonio striding into the room. He had changed into a white logo-T that clung to his chest and shoulders and carried a long wooden spatula with three holes drilled down the center. Every time Connie happened into the kitchen she would glance at that particular tool hanging innocently above the stove with all the other utensils at the ready to stir a deep pot of sauce or anything else the chef saw fit to do with it.

Antonio pulled an armless wooden chair into the open space behind the barstools. “Good day today, Ladies. For a Sunday. Everything turn out OK?”

“Yes, Chef”, they echoed.

“Money?”

“All good”, Connie answered with a wry smile. “Counted and in the safe.”

“No more broken glasses?” he looked at Marie and she almost jumped-she had forgotten that.

“No Chef.”

Antonio sat. “Good, good…One question Connie”, he said looking up, seemingly taller than she even when sitting. “Seriously. And the truth. Were you drinking last night?”

“No!” She said quickly. Then, “well no more than usual…a glass of wine at close. Same as always.”

“That’s no problem. You’re a forty year old woman, if you can ‘t have a drink what’s the world coming to?”

“I’m thirty seven”, she chirped knowing she was being teased.

“So I round up.”

“You could round down to thirty five, you know.”

“Thirty seven, thirty five-what’s it matter? You run rings around the twenty five year olds.” He nodded over to Marie, “Between you and Sophia Loren over there you’re the best I got. Best I ever had. Without you two, I close down and go back into retail.”

Marie nodded a small bow. “Thanks, Chef”, said Connie standing like a penitent before him, eyes downcast.

“But that’s why what happened last night is so wrong. You know better-you know what to do but you don’t do it!”

“I do most of the time”, she said almost whining with her head down. Marie, watching intently, almost expected her to kick at the floor.

“People don’t come here because we’re good ‘most of the time’ do they? This is not a forgiving business. We have to be on the razor’s edge all of the time, right?”

“Yes, Chef.”

“Sometimes I have to help you focus, right? To…help you keep your thoughts on the tasks at hand right?” Then, when she didn’t answer, “Right?”

“Yes Chef”, she said softly.

“You have to be…what is it? ‘In the moment?’ Don’t think of something else until the one thing is done. Right?”

“Hundred percent right Chef.”

“Oh, you agree then…”

“Yes, Chef.”

“You weren’t in the moment last night were you?”

“Jesus”, thought Marie. She might cry if she were ever scolded like this. Antonio might yell-but she never knew him to lecture. She glanced at Connie who looked for all the world like a chastened, naughty child and felt tremendously uncomfortable. She had slipped into a memory that she couldn’t exactly remember, but could feel.

“No Chef.”

“Why not?”

“I…don’t know, Chef”, she said miserably. “I’m sorry….”

“That’s OK. I’m going to make it right. See? I’m focused. I’m in the moment. The only thing I’m thinking about right now is paddling your bottom. Only thing on my mind.”

“Mine too, as it turns out.”

“Come on then.” He waved her over with the spatula that Connie was trying to avoid seeing. She moved to his right side and unsnapped her jeans. She would typically lay over his lap and he would pull them down when he was ready-usually well into the spanking. But now, “You might as well take them down”, he said.

“Oh, OK”, she said with nary a pause but a small gulp. She unzipped them and let them slide, with little prompting into a pile around her feet. He had put the spatula down and reached up to take her hand. Gently, as if leading her onto a pitching boat, he helped her settle across his lap.

“I don’t know Connie,” he said patting the back of her leg. “It seems like a long time since you’ve been here but you fit so well.”

She shrugged a rueful smile that no one could see, staring as she was at the ceramic tiles and Antonio’s leather sandals. It was true though-she had been with him for close to twelve years and two restaurants-started when she was twenty five. How many times had she had this view of his footwear?

But it had never gone beyond that. When she was married-which happily she hadn’t been for six years now-her husband never knew that her boss spanked her. He would have assumed what everybody assumed; that a good spanking was a prelude to a good fucking. It had never been like that for her. Or for Antonio.

“It’s probably been too long”, Connie said upside down.

“Probably. I’ve been neglectful…Forgive me. ”

She wriggled as he pulled her panties down easily over her slim bottom. “Oh, oh”, she thought. He had never started in on the bare-he always worked up to it. He pushed them all the way to her knees leaving her exposed in a way she hadn’t expected.

“Oh, oh”, thought Marie from the pub table where she leaned. The generalized flutter in her chest grew into more of a drumbeat. Without realizing it she had lifted her hand to her breast like an old woman with the vapors. She had told herself that she was here to support Connie-maybe comfort her in her time of need. She had told herself that to make it seem like she was here for more than to watch her friend being spanked. But now, seeing her bare bottom just feet away, she wasn’t so sure her intentions were all that noble. She suddenly had trouble trying to figure out where to put her eyes.

To be continued…

The Norwegians – Part 1

pexels-photo-248462

(Continued from A Visit to the Clinic)

Jessica’s phone buzzed with a text. It was about 3:15. She had avoided Dr. Greene for the day which wasn’t hard to do. She was a competent hustler and other staff were happy to make use of her when they were busy.

She read the text “Meet me at Dish at 4.”

Jessica didn’t recognize the number.

“Who?” she texted back.

“Most spankable ass in the state,” came the reply.

Jessica actually let out a low moan. She had almost…..no, forget that. She hadn’t almost put it out of her mind. Her little escapade in the exam room this morning had roiled her brain all day.

“Don’t know if I can get free.” She texted back with a frowny face emoji that was definitely for effect only.

“You’re shift is over at 330”, came the quick reply. “Steph told me.”

Jessica sighed long and deep, rubbing her temple which should have been worn raw by now. Before she could type anything, came the message: “No choice. Dish 4.”

Finished with her patients at 3:15 and still trying to make herself scarce, Jessica ducked into the locker room. She normally came and went in her scrubs but something about meeting somebody-anybody-at Dish, a high-end Italian fusion restaurant, called for something more than work clothes.

She quickly stripped and jumped in the shower careful not to wet her hair. Within 20 minutes she was in a short, denim skirt, bright floral top and sandals. She checked out with Selena in front and was on the street heading a short four blocks uptown.

The small dark bar was full even at four with sleek young men and women wearing shades of blacks and blues. Grey was the new white with this crowd and she suddenly felt like a Christmas tree light with her red and yellow top. She scanned the side tables and there she was-golden hair glowing in the sun peeking through the front window. Jessica was half-way to the table when Angie looked up and flashed her bright smile zapping her with the eyes. Jesus! Jessica thought and almost stopped walking. But didn’t.

Angie was writing in a small hard backed notebook with a slender golden pen. How long had it been since she’d someone writing in a notebook and not picking at a phone? A bottle of imported mineral water stood open at the table with a small glass-no ice-floating a lemon wedge. “You made it.” she radiated.

“I had no choice did I?”

“Nope. None.” She closed the notebook and lay the pen atop it.

“What are you writing?”

“Documenting my day-if it’s not written down, it didn’t happen.”

“Oh, well about today…”

“Some things I don’t have to write down to remember…”

Jessica felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I know…but I feel I should apologize.”

“For what? Not to me. Don’t be silly-sit.” She nodded to the seat across from her. She seemed taller in her short skirt than she did in her scrubs. Her long coltish legs showed well as they slid beneath the table. She was no sooner seated when a waiter appeared at her elbow with a matching glass and lemon wedge.

“Thank you Bobby…” Angie said pleasantly. “Do you want a drink?”

“I can have what you’re having,” she said nodding at the water.

“Sure-that’s fine. But you should have a drink. A cocktail-something.” When Jessica hesitated, “I will if you will.” Angie watched her trying to decide. The girl seemed to be in a constant, if varying by degree, state of fluster. “Bombay and tonic”, said Angie prodding.

“OK. Same.” Said Jessica. “Sorry…I’m just…it’s early. I wasn’t sure…”

“It’s never the right time, sweetie. Always too late or too early. Best follow your own clock. And a drink would be good for you right now.”

“Why? What do you know?” Angie sipped lightly at her water without answering. “Am I getting fired? Dammit!-I knew it, all day I had a feeling…”

Angie poured water into the fresh glass and slid it across the table. Jessica took it.

“You’re not getting fired…”

“Do you know that? I…I love that job…and Dr. Greene. It was just a…..”

“Would you stop? You’re not getting fired.”

They went silent and leaned away as the waiter set the drinks down in front of them. “Thanks, Bobby”, said Angie as Jessica grabbed hers and swallowed thickly.

“Was Dr. Greene mad?”

“Hmmmmm….I’d say extremely pissed would be more accurate.”

“Ohhh…” She rubbed her temple again. “How am I not getting fired…?”

“Come on! You’re great at your job-they love you there. You just had a lapse. That’s all. I’m sure firing you never came up.” She paused and sipped at her drink. “Besides, there are other ways to punish naughty nurses.”

It took a beat or two before Jessica actually registered the words and her eyes widened. “What? What? No…”

Angie moved her head almost imperceptibly to the side-what passed for a shrug. Spankings around the clinic were few and far between. But they did happen. During her first week she had seen a nurse in the locker room with a bruised bottom. She had almost panicked and looked away quickly but could never settle in her mind how the sight had made her feel. Frightened maybe? Apprehensive? She did know that even now she could recall the dark spots and marks in perfect detail and she never saw that nurse again without imagining…

Then there was the time she almost died, when she barged into Dr. Greene’s office to find the receptionist-the one before Selena-laid out across the Doctor’s lap with her pants and panties bunched at her knees. Carrie, the receptionist, was a big redhead-not fat but substantial-with beautiful alabaster skin much of it on display just then. Dr. Greene looked up with flashing eyes and pointed a wicked hairbrush in her direction. “A knock might be nice, Nurse Raymond!”

“Yes, Ma’am-I’m sorry…”

“Doctor.” She hissed. “I’m not your home room teacher.”

“No Ma’am. DOCTOR, I mean….” She stopped speaking her eyes pulled to the glowing white hip where it bent across the doctor’s knee. Carrie’s hair hung as a thick curtain so she couldn’t see her face but noticed her fingers squeezing the carpet under her hands.

“Can I help you Nurse Raymond?”

“Uh…no Doctor. It…can wait. I’ll be back later…”

“Good idea…”

She slipped quickly back out into the hallway realizing that she’d been staring and that she’d been noticed staring. Standing outside the door she heard a muffled word or two then the unmistakable SWAT! of paddle on skin. She jumped then heard it again, then again, each time answered with a small grunt.

The hallway was oddly empty for the time of day and anyone passing by would hear what was happening. And, with the receptionist desk untended, it would be no great stretch to understand who it was happening to.

After the fifth or sixth smack from inside, Jessica heard a whimper then a soft coughing cry. She suddenly felt conspicuous outside the door and couldn’t decide if she were spying or standing sentry. Either way, she didn’t want to be noticed out here and skedaddled down the hall to hide in the locker room for fifteen minutes.

That’s where her mind was when Angie reached across the table and touched her hand. “Are you still here?” she asked.

Continued here The Norwegians-Part 2

Work Process

(Continued from Meanwhile…back at the office)

Billy Lake stepped tentatively into the room. He was definitely Charla’s hire: mid-twenties, a good decade younger than Charla-a little more than Rebecca. Right in the boss’ wheelhouse.  Rebecca didn’t go for the young men necessarily and she had the idea that Bill was what you wanted in a little brother if, for some perverse reason, you wanted an impossibly hot little brother. Still, she wouldn’t deny that he did get her heart pumping a bit. Either him, or what was going on in here.

He nodded at Rebecca then met Charla’s gaze but became instantly distracted by the wicked plastic tube on the desk beside her. If there was any doubt on the way up to Charla’s office what was going to happen here, that doubt was now gone. The small flutter that he felt in his chest coming across the threshold increased to a gentle pounding.

Letting her eyes wander, Rebecca smiled inwardly. It was like all the young MBA’s in the office took a page from the Franklin Best book of fashion. Long hair combed straight back-snug-fitting distressed jeans, sneakers without laces and gray-on-black crew neck that clung to his shoulders and chest tightly enough to showcase his smooth skin. Sitting, her eyes naturally settled on his hip and the look of his thigh where it swelled against the denim as he moved. She vibrated a tiny shiver realizing that in a few minutes she wouldn’t have to guess what he looked like under his clothes.

“So, William. You know why you’re here don’t you?”

“I do now, for sure.”

“We do expect from you a level of competence from you that we think you are capable of? Right? That you’ve shown us before that has to be maintained…And we were-I was-very disappointed in…”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry.” He dropped his head fetchingly and Charla reached out to lift it with finger under his chin.

“Not to worry. As you know”, she pushed away from the desk and took up the plastic rod, “we have a way to clean the slate, as it were.”

“Mrs. Best….” He looked over as Rebecca winced inside at the “Mrs.” which made her feel like his Social Studies teacher.

“You’re on Rebecca’s team now-so I definitely want her to be a part of this. Right? You’ll be reporting to her and she’ll be…responsible for you.” He simply nodded.  “Now, William. Over here please.” Charla indicated a spot beside her, in front of the desk.

Bill must have been expecting something different. A different pace to his visit perhaps, a “get-acquainted” session maybe. Certainly a more intimate setting-and no guest observers. His movements were hesitant and it took three halting steps rather than two strides to step up beside Charla.

“Very good”, she said. “Now drop your pants please.” He hesitated for an instant and cut his eyes over to Rebecca as if hoping for an intervention of some kind. Rebecca wondered if she looked flushed as a wave of heat rose to her face.

“Do not make me ask you again.”

He blushed ferociously as he undid his belt. “This is embarrassing…” he mumbled under his breath.

“I don’t doubt it”, Charla said, clicking the rod in the palm of her hand.  “Of course humiliating would probably be the better word.”

“Go ahead Bill”, Rebecca said trying to sound reassuring. “Nothing I haven’t seen”. But it had been a long time since she’d seen any male’s bottom but Franklin’s and that was definitely not for a spanking! She was trying to remember the last time as she watched his hands shaking a little as unsnapped his jeans. Rebecca’s breath quickened and she unconsciously crossed her legs. How reassured would the guy feel if he knew his new boss’ crotch was buzzing.

The jeans were of course, slim fit and had to be pushed down over his thighs. Again, he paused. From her spot off to the side Rebecca could see the slight curve of his backside pushing at his black briefs as well as his rosy, blushing cheeks. She strangely settled on his eyelids which seemed longish.

“Am I going to have to give you step by step instructions, young man?”

He hooked his thumbs in his briefs and pushed them down to meet his jeans at his knees. Of course his young bottom was taut with no hint of drop or sag. Not the protruding cheeks that Bethany offered but very ready. He wasn’t hairless but lightly furred-soft looking down up to the top of his legs and revealed in the bottom of his crease as he slowly bent forward putting his hands on the desk before him. Rebecca heard voices and realized that they had been talking all the while she was mesmerized.

Charla stood casually next to him.

“This is a new weapon for me. You’re the first to try it.”

“It looks monstrous.”

“You’ll be the judge…”

“Are you ready?” she asked patting the rod to his backside.

“Yes Ma’am”, he said using the title naturally as a child might say please and thank you. Charla, always one to appreciate deference, took it in stride.

The first stroke landed with a wicked sounding slash which surprised everyone in the room. William answered with a grunt and Rebecca felt herself almost lift off the chair with the impact. A red welt appeared almost immediately across the cheek that she could see. Charla regarded it clinically and stepped back half a pace and let fly again. This one landed hard on the left side, out of Rebecca’s sight. He gasped at the contact and Rebecca put her hand to her mouth as if to stifle her own groan.

Sitting to his right and slightly behind, Rebecca could focus on Billy’s profile. How he would squeeze his eyes shut and grit his teeth firmly, tightly baring his fangs but leaving his bottom soft and pliant. Somewhere he had gotten the memo about not tensing. Then, with the whipping impact, his eyes and mouth would fly open soundlessly as if providing a track to expel the pain from his bottom out through his top.

From her seat Rebecca became conscious of his manhood hanging slightly away from his leg. Not hanging limply, nor pushing deskward like a pole but pleasantly full and throbbing slightly. Another stroke made it jump and startled her. Not comfortable fixating on his cock, she moved silently to the couch directly behind.

Charla ignored her movements, instead running her fingers across the welts and star-like blisters that punctuated the end of each. Every stroke had left a clearly defined path across his milky bottom and Charla’s deep brown finger touching and prodding made for a startling contrast. Rebecca squeezed her legs together feeling the growing dampness.

“Didn’t break the skin”, she said. “Close on this one….but not.”

He had no response for her, comfortable with just catching his breath. Rebecca counted seven stripes. Charla rubbed her left hand up his back tenderly.

“Are you doing alright William?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Oh Christ Kid, thought Rebecca-stop that. It will only go to her head…

“Bill-I’m going to give you one more. But it’s going to be a good one, you understand?”

“Yes”, he said quietly and seemed to brace his legs. Charla lay the rod across him and tapped once, twice and Rebecca imagined his sweet face scrunched and waiting. But not for long as Charla shifted her weight and pulled back further than she had previously. As the stroke whistled home Rebecca closed her eyes and heard the loud THWACK! His grunt was louder and tinged with a whimper.

She opened her eyes and saw a perfect scarlet signature-darker than the others-right across the center of his bottom. Rebecca leaned backward and opened her legs slightly-then closed them. Then opened them again.

“There-That’s it….” said Charla stepping away. Her color was up and Rebecca knew her well enough to feel there was something more than a simple workplace chastisement going on here. “You can get up”, she said to the boy who hadn’t moved.

He stood and immediately reached back to massage his burning buttocks-kneading and stroking the pain away. Christ! thought Rebecca trying but failing to look away.

“How was it?”

“That hurt”, he said as if in wonder. “Really hurt.”

“No doubt, but how was it?”

He paused his rubbing for a moment. “Glorious”, he breathed.

The women laughed. “Get dressed”, Charla ordered.

Keeping his back to the room, Bill pulled his underwear then jeans up. By his wriggling and posturing, Rebecca knew that he wasn’t hanging limply anymore and was struggling to harness himself into his pants.

“You feel that last stroke, Bill?”

“Oh, I did”, he said over his shoulder.

“Like it?”

“Not the word I’d use.”

“Well the next time you intentionally fuck up a work product to get me to whip your ass I’m going to give you 50 just like that last one across your bare butt. In front of the whole team. Would you like that?”

“No I wouldn’t”, he answered.

“Either figure out a code or come and tell me-or better yet-Rebecca when you need your bottom attended to. And we’ll take care of it outside of work process. You got it? What do you think you’d like better-fifty with this across your ass or fifty smacks on your bare bum laying across Rebecca’s lap?”

He turned and caught Rebecca’s eye. “I’ll take the lap.” Rebecca kept her eyes on his face, not wanting to see the size of what was tied to his leg.

“Word to the wise. Go now…”

He wasted no time and with a nod, walked stiffly out the door all four eyes watching him go. Once he was gone, Charla turned back. “Now, since we are on the subject of intentional fuck-ups. What possessed you to come in late today?”

Rebecca noted nervously that Charla still held the rod. She spoke quickly, explaining that Franklin put her in the corner-even though he knew what might happen if she came in late. The butterflies in Rebecca’s stomach turned to ice as she realized she had said the exact wrong thing.

“You mean Franklin expects me to cane you?”

“Well…not expects. Not exactly…he figured…”

“You better get up here then…it’s not my place to disappoint Franklin. Life is too short.”

“Char, come on….”

“You come on.”

Charla’s smile was hard to read. Definitely superior and in control-but leavened with a heavy dose of mischief. And something else. If a smile could wink-maybe this one was. “Come on, I need another opinion on this anyway.” She tapped the desk. “We haven’t got all day.”

Rebecca stood beside her boss and absorbed the younger woman’s scent. Her feelings were complicated enough that her eyes stung a little. She was bending to place her hands on the desk when Charla stopped her.

“Uh-uh-uh…Those slacks do hug your bottom beautifully but I’m not really interested in stroking your pants.” She was close enough to feel Charla’s breath feathering the side of her neck.

“No…of course…” Rebecca said quietly as she, for the second time that morning, reluctantly pushed her pants down over her bottom. She was about to slip her thumbs into the waistband of her panties when Charla beat her to it. She stood upright and allowed her friend to roll her panties down almost gasping as her hands contacted her legs. She felt Charla’s lips brush her neck and turned-lips parted-to accept a soft but strong kiss.

“This isn’t personal Becks. Just business….”

Rebecca answered the twinkle in her eyes with a wry smile. “It’s always personal with you Charla. Especially business.”

Another quick peck on the mouth as she backed away.

“Bend over now. Give it up for us…”

Rebecca placed her hands on the desk surface and arched her back-offering her bottom openly. She didn’t tense-but held her breath.

(To be continued…If you liked this, I’d humbly recommend Ellison-an excerpt from “The Agency”from a couple of years ago.)

Meanwhile…back at the office

(Continued from Roles Can Change…)

Rebecca slipped her red coupe into its’ spot in the front next to Charla’s Beemer and hustled through the glass doors. The downside of designated premium parking is that empty spots were impossible to miss. The desks on the executive level were empty as she knew they’d be with everyone in the daily 9 a.m. briefing that had been going on for twenty minutes. She rushed-but didn’t run-to the conference room door, grabbed the handle, took a deep breath, and pulled it open.

Twelve sets of eyes tuned to her and nodded, winked or otherwise acknowledged her presence. “Sorry, sorry…” she said moving to an empty seat in the back-which wouldn’t hide her as Charla was in front of the room at the white board.

“So nice of you to join us Rebecca!” she said heartily with a bright, wide smile as if she meant just that. All Rebecca could do was raise her hand in an apologetic wave and sit. Charla went back to the presentation and all eyes swiveled to the front. And Charla usually drew all the eyes with her wide smile, deep mahogany skin, straight hair pulled back in a pony-tail that cascaded down her sloping back. She wasn’t really that tall-about Rebecca’s height-but something in her presence made her feel towering.  Something besides the 3” heels she usually wore, that is.

Rebecca did not know any of the details of what transpired at that fetish ball north of London over a decade before. She was sure she could know if she wanted, but why? What she did know was that the bright, young Harvard MBA on holiday was thoroughly swept away by the rakish older guy with the quick mind, soft fingers and apparent bundles of ready cash.

They were stateside less than a month before they had gotten together to start planning and building the unassuming empire that had made them-and all close to them-if not rich, comfortable. OK, rich. Everyone who worked at Swansea & Middleton’s wide-ranging organizations shared not only talent and a hunger for success and money, but a….particularity (the preferred term around the offices). And this particular particularity varied widely by degree.

Just to be clear, there were people who’d been in the organization for years that had never tasted the cane, paddle or hard palm against bare cheek. They either worked hard to avoid it-the class Rebecca sat in-or had worked out “special arrangements” with the boss. What those arrangements might be and who might have them was never clear. But as the companies grew and more and more people were added, the spanking pool definitely increased and there was something for everyone.

Years before Rebecca had started at the bar but that was a little over the top for her. She liked to keep the number of people seeing her bare bottom to a manageable number. She had taken her licks on the real-estate side and the marketing agency, before being “graduated up” to the holding company.

But no matter where she had been, what she had worked through, here she was now. Sitting in the back of the room her belly roiling knowing that she had put herself right in the deep end of the pool. And everybody in the room knew it too which was doubly mortifying. A senior partner, probably older (skip the probably) than anyone in the table…her cheeks reddened. Damn Franklin! she thought.

Lost in her reverie, she didn’t even notice the meeting breaking up until partners were pushing away from the table and walking out the door. When she snapped to, Charla’s eyes were on her. “Can you join me in the office to go over some numbers you missed?” she asked in a way that really wasn’t a question.

“Sure”, Rebecca answered with a slight, rueful smile.

She followed Charla into her large widowed office right off the conference room. She moved to the supplicant’s position before the desk while her boss went to the closet.

“What is it with you this week?” Charla asked rummaging through things stacked out of sight.  “I covered for you and told everyone at the start that you had an early meeting at Real Estate but you simply cannot show up late for…without letting me know…a text an email…something.”

“I know, I’m sorry. This morning….”

She froze when she saw what Charla had picked out of the closet. It was a piece of nasty looking gray conduit-a hollow tube used to run wiring. I looked unspeakably licky in her boss’ hand.

“Jesus, Charla!” she gasped, almost backing away…

“Oh-this?” Charla whipped it through the air. “Something huh? Picked it up on the uptown job last week.” She whipped it again through the air smiling at the sound it made. Rebecca’s knees quivered slightly. “Don’t worry. Not for you…” said Charla and Rebecca breathed again.

“You know Bill Lake, right? The new kid in finance?”

Please, thought Rebecca. Everyone knew Billy, even those who didn’t work directly with him. Tall and blonde with a dancer’s build and eyes the color of a June sky. “Sure I know who he is…”

“I think I’m putting him on your team. I’ve given him too much responsibility right off the bat and he’s been sloppy. Or he’s incapable of what we need. I’ll leave you to sort that out.”

“But that…”Rebecca cut her eyes to the nasty piece of tubing.

“His work on the Nettles Proposal was bad. Incorrect-beyond sloppy. I caught it-and for the life of me, I don’t know why Catherine didn’t.” Charla was working herself up into a decent snit. “I’m putting her on your team too. Get her squared away.”

“Cathy? That will be….I’m not sure that will….” Rebecca stammered.

“What?”

“We don’t work together on too much. She…doesn’t really care for me, I’ve heard.”

“Of course she doesn’t! Not my problem. Imagine how much less she’ll like you laying over your lap with her pants down. And that’s your first order of business-I’m going to take care of young Bill here”, she flicked the rod for emphasis, “Catherine’s your issue. “

Rebecca froze in thought for a moment. She always thought that Catherine Musto was on the list of players immune to the corporal inducements of Swansea & Middleton. Or had she been and wasn’t anymore? Rebecca wanted to ask Charla a few questions but her assistant, Moliere, interrupted over the intercom.

“Char? Bill Lake’s here.”

“Very good…” Charla said under her breath.

“I should go…” Rebecca moved toward the door. It was good to be scarce when Charla’s blood rose.

“You will sit right there”, her boss sternly nodded to a chair off to the side. “He’s on your team now-you need to be in on this.”

She pressed the button on the phone. “Send him in,” she said and, staging, placed the wicked gray rod in clear view beside her and leaned against the desk facing the door. She allowed the edge of the surface to dig into her buttocks as she crossed her arms and greeted the opening door with a grim smile. Rebecca’s stomach fluttered-she had seen that smile a few times herself.

(Continued in Work Process)

Lucky James-Mrs. Fortescue

Continued from Sweet James – The Letter

Absorbed in his raking, James was facing the lake and didn’t hear her approach. Caitlin Milan was in no hurry to interrupt him, content to watch the muscles in his back twist and flow as he labored shirtless in the creamy afternoon sun.

“Well, I must say, someone’s been very busy”, she said.

He smiled widely, straightened, and turned to face his benefactor.

Caitlin positively glowed in the sunlight that gleamed over James’ shoulder. Her hair, styled short around her face but falling over her collar, was streaked in honey shades-darker buckwheat to glimmering wildflower-to offset her piercing hazel eyes. She was tall-almost as tall as James-with wide swimmer’s shoulders and perfectly round small breasts. No real secrets there as she wore a tight fitted shirt that clung to her frame before disappearing into the waist of tight black slacks.

“It’s coming along, I think”, James said looking admiringly over the grounds.

“’Coming along…’ I would say so. Your secret has been blown, Mr. Cooke. Jane has let me know the sad state of affairs here when you came aboard. Your sanguine reports to the contrary.”

“I saw no need to trouble you with something as insignificant as the truth when you were on holiday. Figured given enough time you’d be none the wiser when you returned.”

“Most people in your position would have made the situation seem worse than it was-so that the reward upon finishing it would be greater.”

“Truthfully, couldn’t have been much worse…and to the other…just happy to be here. Thanks for thinking of me. “

“Tut”, she waved her hand dismissively. “Should have thought of you sooner…but…your recent….what do we say-episodes? Escapades? Debauches? All round reputation…” she raised a finger as he tried to protest. “Recently as I said…put me off I suppose.”

“Yes, well. Not much in the last month or so…since I moved into the boathouse.”

“So I’ve heard as well…Let’s try to keep that up.”

“Yes Ma’am”, he said. “Working on it…”

“Very good”, then with a final sweeping look around the grounds. “Very nice…Well, I’ll leave you to it.” she turned to head back up the hill. “Please meet us in the library at 5:00, James”, she called over her shoulder. She strode in a way that made James believe that she knew-and didn’t mind-that he was watching her ass undulating up the walkway. He regretfully broke off the stare and bent back to the rake.

The old brick house, shaded by towering black walnut and oak, kept the cool of the forest glade that it had been built in two hundred years earlier. He didn’t usually have cause to enter through the large front door but it gave easier access to the library than the roundabout side entrance. He paused inside a moment to let his eyes adjust to the perpetual dusk. A quick shower, fresh chinos and a dark shirt prepared him for dinner, drinks or more likely, tales of Tuscany from the returned matron.

James followed the voices murmuring down the hall. Straining, he only heard two-Caitlin and Mrs. Fortescue. As he got closer he could pick up the tone if not the substance of the conversation-Caitlin calm and steady, Jane a little…not strident exactly, but forceful and loud by comparison. As someone who has no control over a situation might be. He entered the room during a lull in the debate, knocking on the door frame as he came in.

The women paused. “Oh, great…now he’s here too”, Mrs. Fortescue griped in frustration.

James froze halfway into the room, one foot suspended in the air like a heron eyeing a minnow. His heart raced a little as he beheld the tableau in front of him.

“Now Jane, come on…” said Caitlin.

Caitlin was at the window holding the drapes aside looking nonchalant-as if there wasn’t enough going on in the room to hold her attention. Jane was standing at the table-one hand on the surface but not leaning. Just two women talking-nothing untoward about that. Until, that is, one looked around the room and noticed the armless chair sitting in the middle of the room. And behind the chair, on a low table, a round wooden paddle.

This was it. This is that whispered-about thing that made Goosington a scandal or joke in some quarters. Why few locals wanted to work there. Anyone who joined the staff on any level was made to understand that mistakes made in the employ of Caitlin Milan had consequences. Maybe not one mistake-maybe not even the second-the lady could be flexible for sure. But always, the threat was there. And, as with any threat, sometimes it had to be carried out or it stopped being a threat.

Caitlin would narrow her eyes and point-“those are grounds” she’d say. “For a spanking” went unsaid. Many had felt ice in their belly at those words. Sometimes she’d say you “goofed”; a simple, sweet word that had such a painful connotation at the Manse.

Not that it happened all the time. James had only seen one spanking in his previous posting. That had been a young serving maid who was woefully unprepared for her job. He thought she had been taken on as a favor. As he recalled, Caitlin had stood for what seemed to be dozens of shattered glasses and cracked plates-enough that the rest of the staff was murmuring about it-before she had to act.

The staff had all gathered right here in the library-of course there were eight of them then-with the same chair in the center. The spectacle of the spanking lost some of its charm as the young girl-nineteen tops, slim of hips and flat of bum-blubbered from the time she entered the library and wailed through her punishment. Caitlin gave her reason to cry, no doubt-she never held back-but it got so that even the staff who had been whispering about ‘favoritism’ were wriggling in their seats before it was over.

Truth is though, he never heard of so much as a chipped saucer after that and two years later the girl left Goosington to join the staff of a posh country club with a strong recommendation from the Lady herself. Who knew what motivated people?

His reverie was interrupted by the ongoing negotiations in the room. He guessed that everyone in the library knew this was going to happen eventually. This was the ‘little conversation’ Caitlin had mentioned and she was wasting no time in having it.

”You were charged with the management of the property, Jane. You didn’t have to really do anything but pay attention to what others were doing.”

“Look, I….”

“How could you have let it get that bad?”

“It wasn’t that bad when I checked the first time…when they got here…”

“And when did you check the second time? Was it before or after you gave them the money to buy materials for the dock?”

Jane shrugged and threw up her hands. “Caitlin. I’m not saying I don’t deserve…what you’re going to give me. Not saying that. I do. I’m so sorry for this.” She paused and swallowed. “I know I let you down. I know it. And I’ll take my medicine. OK? All I’m saying is that I don’t want to lie across your lap. I mean really, that’s for children and young ladies. I’m old enough to be your….”

“You are not Jane Fortescue-don’t even go there!”

“I was going to say aunt!”

Caitlin smiled at that. “My aunt, huh? I have one of those and she’s a pistol-I’ll tell you. Could probably benefit from a good spanking herself.”

“Look-Caitlin”, Jane had both hands on the table. “I’ll bend over here-however you need me to-and you can have at it. Just me bending over.” She had her back to James as she demonstrated. Her slacks were not tight exactly, but well fitted. James made excuses to visit the main house on the days when Mrs. Fortescue wore slacks that looked to be painted on. The contours of her hips and backside pushed every seam just to its fullest capacity.

The Lady of the House gave one last gaze out the window as if the answer were out there somewhere written on the clouds. Then, letting the drapery drop, she turned into the room and Jane.

“I get what you’re saying. I do. But let’s just do this the way we’ve always done it. OK?”

Jane dropped her chin, her gaze and her shoulders all at once. She had seen enough of these punishments in her years at the house to know what was coming-no use in fighting anymore. She deserved it, she accepted it, but she was NOT looking forward to it. After eleven years this would be her first.

“Let’s get on with it, shall we? James you are not an umbrella stand. Come away from the door. Sit.”

James took a few steps toward the couch that would put him directly across from Caitlin on the chair then redirected. He sat instead in the overstuffed lounge to Caitlin’s right, giving himself a view that he might enjoy more. Because yes, he had to admit he would enjoy this.

He had no particular antipathy toward Jane. On the contrary, he rather liked her-in addition to the carnal interest that he had in apparently all women. He knew of people who had worked at the house who were made uncomfortable by this whole drama-and some left employ here not because they were spanked, but because they had to watch others being spanked. That wasn’t James.

Jane noticed exactly where he was sitting and James might have imagined her small head shake before she turned to face the seated Caitlin for the recitation. It was the same with every spanking-something that made it all seem somehow more official and right. Jane stood and waited.

“Do you deserve this punishment, Jane?” Caitlin asked looking up.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Do you accept this punishment that I am about to mete out?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And any other I deem necessary in the course of your employment here?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Very good then. Step around.”

Jane stepped to the side, turning her back to face Caitlin’s lap. James was back to was admiring the shape and imagining the feel of her bum when the pants went loose at the top, Jane having opened her belt and unsnapped in front. As if watching a curtain rise in reverse, Lucky James saw the pink silk of her panties revealed-sharing a similar snug fit to the pants.

With only a slight pause she caught her thumbs in the waistband of her underwear and rolled them down to settle at her knees with the pants. She was no slim-hipped serving maid, that’s for sure. Jane Fortescue’s bottom was a woman’s bottom-wide and strong, heavy and creamy, gloriously if sparsely dimpled and bisected by a deep crevasse that James knew she holding together as best she could.

James crossed one leg over the other and settled sideways as Jane lowered herself slowly over Caitlin’s lap, the younger woman leaning back to make room. When she was down, Caitlin moved her backwards a little so that her bottom was positioned right over the rise of the Lady’s thigh almost exactly in James sight-line.

Without warning she raised her hand and smacked Jane’s right cheek as hard as she could. “Ouch!” the woman jumped, surprised. Then another hard smack in the same place raised the woman onto her toes. “Ow, that stings.” James, as unobtrusively as possible, shifted himself and crossed the other leg over.

“I bet it does. This”, she reached back and picked the paddle from the table “Will sting more, I’m afraid. Are you ready for this Jane?”

“Yes, Ma’am”, came the muffled reply.

Jane had braced herself on her toes with her hands flat on the floor. She was as ready as she could be. Caitlin raised the paddle and swatted her firmly on the right cheek. Jane jumped forward but said nothing. The next swat landed in the center of the left cheek and she again managed to hold off crying out. Not until the fifth swat landed loudly in the middle of her left cheek did she grunt.

On the sound, Caitlin paused to give her friend a moment to collect herself. Her bottom was splotching pink and the small of her back glistened slightly. For her part, Jane dug her fingernails into the carpet. She had promised herself to take this in silence but she didn’t know if she’d be able to. Her bottom was burning but her head hurt almost as much from clenching her teeth. Maybe it would be better to let it out.

“Go ahead, Caitlin” she said in a hoarse whisper that he couldn’t quite make out. The next three smacks landed hard in the center of her right cheek. Her butt was just as solid as it looked and absorbed the swats but it wasn’t much longer before she reacted with a sharp gasp. Caitlin’s only answer was a group of rapid smacks alternating cheeks and splitting them dead in the middle. Jane writhed on her lap and finally choked back a sob. “Caitlin! Christ, that hurts so much!” Another landed with a SWAT! “Ahhh…please….OW!!!” From his seat James couldn’t see Jane reaching back to grasp Caitlin’s ankle.

Over the next few moments-or minutes as the perception of time passing was very different for the three people in the room-Jane’s crying became more subdued as she tried to muscle through. She was doing her best to stay in place but the tiny kicks with her knees-almost running in place-had loosed her pants from around her knees down to her ankles. Without the tourniquet keeping her legs together, Jane’s writhing was exposing more than she would have wanted to show.

Caitlin, for her part, began backing off on the paddle judging the completion of the punishment by the dark red shades of the older woman’s bottom and the heat rising from it. To test, she slipped the paddle into her left hand and lay her right gently onto the glowing cheeks-cupping one, then the other. Time stood still. There was no sound-nary a sniffle-and the only movement was Caitlin’s hand gently patting her friend’s bottom.

“I think we’re done here”, Caitlin said huskily.

James, realizing he’d been holding his breath, exhaled and leaned back recrossing his legs yet again. Jane watched a tear drop and spread out on the carpet below her before pushing herself up-accepting a hand from her employer to help her stand. He beheld the glowing sunset colors of her backside for as long as he could.

Caitlin, wishing to spare her friend the final indignity of squatting or bending to pull up her pants, leaned forward herself and-with her cheek close enough to Jane Fortescue’s thighs that the older woman could feel her warm feathering of her breath-unrolled and lifted first the panties then the slacks up to where Jane could take them.

“Thank you”, said Jane softly.

Nothing more to be said or done, Jane turned and walked briskly, if a little stiffly to the door. She wished at this moment that her slacks had a looser fit. James opted to look away not wanting to catch her eye just now and not wanting her to catch a glimpse of his crotch.

When he looked back, Caitlin was back at the window. She knew her cheeks were flushed and she breathed deeply to still her shaking hands.

To be continued…….

Busted

 

tumblr_njmyt2gbW71tk6crdo1_500

Uncredited on Tumblr

Brittany Jonze glided smoothly through the large open bullpen that was the physical-as well as creative center-of Brilliant! Advertising. She had been with the firm for nine years and was on her way to partnership but eschewed a glassy office along the interior wall to keep her desk among the twenty other desks and tables carefully scattered about. Strategically positioned couches and comfortable chairs coupled with low partitions of curving walls of glass block directed the flow. Everything random was by design.

Whether measured by client list, billings or awards, B!A was the top agency in the City and certainly the one everyone wanted to work with. Or for. They were high-tech, tightly run and paid very well for the very best people.

Annie Lemon was a typical new hire. Bright, recruited right out of college, what she lacked in sophistication and experience she more than made up for made up for in enthusiasm and an uncanny ability to read a customer’s wants-even when they weren’t sure what they were. Brittany had decided to hire Annie as her assistant within fifteen minutes of meeting her.

Right now though, as Brittany approached her desk, Annie appeared to be in a dither about to graduate to a full-blown tizzy. Brittany gave her space knowing it best to let her work things out herself and if she couldn’t, she’d come to her. It took no time at all.

“Hssst!” She whispered loud enough for everyone near to hear. “It’s gone!”

“What’s gone?”

“The Hanson proposal-the whole thing! The new deck, the talking points, the budget, everything!”

Brittany shrugged. “Pull the backup and touch it up.”

Annie hissed the two words she didn’t want to say aloud, “No backup.”

“No backup?!”

The girl shook her head slightly while staring at the screen as if she had missed it on her pristine desktop. Or that it might just appear from the cosmic black hole it had slipped into. She felt hot, then cold then a prickling between her shoulder blades. She didn’t have to turn around to know her boss was staring holes into the back of her head. Jesus, the lecture was coming-and she dreaded it.

“Didn’t we just talk about backing up daily….hourly when you’re working on something hot? Didn’t we talk about that…when, Thursday?”

“Yes”, she said in an impossibly small voice that she hated to hear coming out of her mouth.

“And you said, what was it?…Let’s see…’You just couldn’t think about running backups when you’re ‘in the zone’ “, she made the big air quotes behind Annie’s head but put enough inflection into the phrase to know that she could feel them. “Are you in the zone now?”

“This was no white paper, this was no blog post, this was no brainstorming session. This is a proposal that will mean thousands of dollars in billings that was entrusted to you when you’re not even out of your probationary period. Entrusted to you. By me. By Carol” she waved her hand at the agency head’s office at the corner of the room.

Inside the glass box Carol had her back to the room gazing at the skyline outside the window. She was on the phone, her sandaled feet on the credenza behind her. Her feathered blonde tresses fell back over her collar as she leaned back a study in relaxed informality.

“Turn around and look at me…”

Annie spun her chair slowly but couldn’t lift her eyes from Brittany’s shoes. God, she was going to get fired. She was going to get fired right now and would have to clear out her desk and walk out of this big room that she had already felt a part of.

She wanted to cry but didn’t dare. Everyone was so excited when she got the job here-most couldn’t believe it and a couple counseled her against taking it. There would be too much pressure, was she ready to play at that level…Now, a scant three months later she would have to tell them all that they were right. Dammit! And it was so stupid.

“You let us all down, you know that?”

Annie’s eyes stung. “I’ll just have to tell her…” she said limply.

“You will. It will be painful, but you have to…”

“Do you think she will fire me?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. I think the best you can hope for is a good spanking.”

Annie was silent a moment, trying to process what she had just heard. “Wait. What?”

“A spanking. A caning. A paddling…she has all the tools there in her office.” Annie’s head snapped back toward the room where Carol was just spinning back to her desk and taking off her headset. “It’s in your employment contract” Brittany said. “You signed it.”

“I…I thought that was a joke! My girlfrie….my friend said it had to be a joke!”

As a matter of fact, Brittany had a hand in writing up the employment contact some years ago. She and Carol and a couple of others after a boozy lunch had inserted the spanking clause as they called it into the sand-dry document as a bit of a lark. Then they left it there as a sign of the irreverence that B!A was known for. Most took it as a joke. Some took it seriously. All were dealt with in kind.

“You’ll wish it was a joke. The first time she spanked me…”

“You? Wait a minute. She spanked you?”

“Girl…” she paused and took a breath. “Yes. The first time was right over there-over that table. It was for something stupid I did…it wasn’t even that bad-nothing like losing a proposal. I was late on timesheets-for the second time. I just forgot, you know. But I was new here and she wanted to teach me a lesson.”

“What did she do?”

Brittany looked at her junior for just a moment-long enough to see that her eyes were wide and she was leaning in, her cheeks coloring.

“She came out of her office and came marching right up to my desk here. I felt her coming but didn’t look up, hoped she would keep moving, but she stayed right here. Looming. I looked up and she had this wicked hairbrush in her hand…”

“Oh Jesus-are you serious?” she asked gasping, real fear creeping into her voice.

“Serious.” Brittany spun the tale with gusto and feeling. “She’s like: ‘Get Up’ I thought I was going to pee myself but I got up and she’s like: “Get over here’…and I walked around the side of the desk here but I was shaky-my legs were actually shaking! I couldn’t believe what was happening.”

“Was everybody here?” she waved her arms to take in the whole of the bullpen.  “We were half staffed that day-and the half that were here scattered when they saw what was happening. Some stayed-kept their heads down. But I’m sure they looked.”

Brittany slowed in her memory-Annie waited a moment, then pressed. “What happened?

“What happened? You know what happened. She grabbed me by the arm. Right here”, she said grabbing her own bicep, “like she was my mother and I was a child-though we’re almost the same age right? Lecturing me the whole time about punctuality, respect for deadlines, I swear, most of it I don’t remember. She marched me over to the conference table, and if I had any doubts about what was going to happen they went out the window when she said, ‘Bend Over’. “

“Oh my God”, Annie said a little breathlessly.

“Indeed. I kept waiting for her to say something-like, ‘just kidding’ you know? Nothing. So I bent over, put my hands on the table and she flipped my skirt up over my back.”

“Weren’t you embarrassed?”

“Of course I was embarrassed. What do you think? But all the embarrassment and mortification went out the window with the first swat. SMACK! That hairbrush landed and I’ll tell you-I never had a coal pressed against my bottom but I can’t imagine it hurt more than that. Jesus…” she trailed off at the memory.

Annie looked furtively around the room. It wasn’t packed-there were offsite meetings today and many were still at lunch. “I should go tell her. Now, I mean. I’ll be able to recreate it all…but not by today…”

“Not by the deadline…”

“No”, she said dejectedly.

Annie stood and moved slowly toward the office in back, dragging her hand along every table top on the way-as if looking for something to hold her back. She seemed carried on a breeze as her steps were almost imperceptible. Lynette Cullen, a graphic designer had kept her head down during the exchange one desk away. She looked up to watch Annie’s solitary gallows march to what awaited her.

“You are evil”, Lynette whispered to Brittany.

“Deliciously so, don’t you think?” she answered with a wicked smile.

Carol was intent on the laptop on her desk and didn’t see the junior assistant to the creative director approach until she was tapping on the door. The woman looked up, her eyes wide behind her glasses. She wasn’t a beauty like Brittany but a good looking woman-well put together with a bright smile that lighted the office when she saw who was at the door.

“Come in Annie, come in…”

Annie gulped and entered pushing the door closed behind her. She felt as if she was trudging up hill and her mouth was so dry she had to work at loosening her tongue.

“Carol, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh?” The woman removed her glasses and leaned back in her chair.

“The Hanson proposal.”

“I can’t wait to deliver it tonight at dinner…

“Oh, at dinner….”

“Yes-Mr. Hanson and I have reservations at his club this evening. I’ll deliver it there.”

“You won’t be able to and it’s all my fault.”

“It is?”

“There must have been a power surge last night because it’s gone and I had no backup. Now you have a dinner and no proposal. I can fix it-I can reproduce it from work notes, but not by tonight. I should have had a backup-I know that. Brittany has been telling me to back up….but I didn’t. God, I wished I had. I will from now on. But for right now, that’s no help and that’s on me. So…” She was babbling in a rush. She took a deep breath. “I know I have to be punished for this. I know that. I’m sorry and I should be. Sorry, that is. And punished.  I haven’t been spanked in years but whatever you need me to do. Bend over your lap, over the desk…”

Annie froze at the bemused look on the older woman’s face. Her heart sank. “You have no idea what I’m talking about do you?”

The smile that had slipped away during Annie’s confession returned to brighten the boss’ eyes even if it didn’t register on her lips. “Oh, I’ve got the gist of it. Honey, you’re pranked, not spanked.” Carol spun the laptop around so Annie could see that she had been studying the proposal. She had it! The relief washed over her like a cold shower. “I needed to see it this morning before you got in-Brittany gave it to me. Excellent work, by the way.”

She pointed to the wall of windows with her glasses and Annie turned slowly to see her team looking at her wide-eyed with delight, their mouths large O’s and their hands cupping their cheeks silently hooting in unison.

“I’m sorry….I….” Annie stumbled for a magic word that would make herself disappear.

Carol was slipping her glasses back on. “Yes, run along now…” Then, as she was almost out the door, “But wait, had it played out the way your evil director suggested, and you were to be spanked-what were you going to do?”

“Whatever you asked-but hoping you’d drop the blinds.”

“Good to know…..”

She flopped into her seat next to Brittany. “Can I call you an asshole without getting my ass beat?”

“Just this once.”

“You are such an ASSHOLE!”

They all roared with laughter and Annie, deflated with relief was surprised that she felt a little…was it disappointed? As if a train had just left the station and she thought maybe she wanted to be on it….