Yet something else was happening to her as well. Her body rebelled at her perfection. What was that all about? Was she trying to get into trouble? Her fingers seemed clumsy when she typed and her eyesight faltered when she proof-read her work. It was on Friday that her fingers typed a “u” where an “o” should’ve been in a client’s name and, for some odd reason, her eyes missed it. She took the letter into his office and set it on his desk, along with the envelope. She smiled and he nodded back, his face expressionless. She turned and left him there and returned to her desk, humming softly.
The intercom buzzed. Her heart froze.
“Miss Robinson?”
“Yes, Mr. Caudry?”
“I need you.”
With a sense of impending doom, Emily stepped into his office. He was holding the letter up and asked simply: “What is our client’s name?”
“Uh, Mr. Dardon, sir.”
“Spell it.”
“Uh, D-A-R-D-O-N.” Emily thought she might fall through the floor.
“Then why did you spell it D-A-R-D-U-N?”
Her hand went to her mouth and she stared at him. “I’m sorry, sir—”
“You remember the rules?”
“Yes, yes, sir.” She went at once to the front of his immaculate desk and leaned over onto her elbows, her hair hanging over the egregious letter. She could see the red pen mark where he had circled the client’s name. How could she have missed that?
“That’s three strokes for the letter...” he paused dramatically. “And another three for the envelope.” He tossed it next to the letter and Emily could see she had made the same mistake. A low moan escaped from her throat.
Mr. Caudry removed the ruler, giving her time to see it. He moved out of her range of vision and she heard the radio being turned on. She closed her eyes and waited.
The first two blows landed and her bottom stung. She bit her lip hard to keep from crying out. Then the heat began to spread and she knew her clit was at full attention, just like that.
Whack! Whack!
“Ohhhhh,” she groaned, wigging her bottom, trying to cool herself off.
“Shhhh,” he admonished and she sucked in her breath.
When he completed the last two strikes, her head dropped down to the blotter and tears fell from her eyes. Mr. Caudry stood silently behind her. When she could compose herself, she lifted up to see that her tears had stained the letter. She gathered it up, along with the envelope, and turned to face her demanding employer.
“Please, sir, may I go make those corrections now?”
He nodded, eyes watching her.
She took a deep breath and, with as much dignity as she could muster, left his office. She dropped the materials on her desk and went at once to the bathroom. Examining her reddened bottom in the stall, she wondered how she could’ve made such a stupid mistake? She knew the client’s name, damn it!
Emily sat on the toilet and winced when her sore ass touched the seat. Her hand went at once to her clit and she brought herself to a quick orgasm. After coming down from the release, she took her time with the next one. When she finally was able to stand and get dressed, she tried to chide herself for her actions, but that voice inside her said: Shut up—you know you wanted it. You don’t really think that typo was an accident, do you?
Of course it was, she tried to tell herself.
Back at her desk, she fixed the mistakes and brought them into Mr. Caudry.
“About time,” he said, but his voice was light.
She felt a sudden chill—did he know what she did in the bathroom? No, of course not, she assured herself. How could he?
“Sorry, sir.”
Back in her chair, she wondered about her incredible deference to this man. She regularly called him “Sir"! He hadn’t demanded that—she doubted it was legal anyway. Yet here she was, calling him “sir” all the time! She shook her head. This was by far the strangest job she’d ever had. She made a mental note to start spreading her resume around. It might be a good idea to get out of here!
That night Emily tried to make sense of what was happening to her. It was all so confusing! She felt like she was being too naïve and yet, there was something she clearly liked about it. God! What would her mother say!
The phone rang and she answered it. “Hello?”
“Hey, Emily, what’s up?”
“Oh, hi, Julie. Nothing.” Julie was a friend she’d met at her last job.
“How’s the job going?”
“Uh, good.” Emily was not ready to tell her about her strange boss.
“Good. You feel like going out? It’s Friday. Maybe we could troll the bars for single men!”
That suddenly sounded just like what she needed. To get out of this apartment and stop worrying about her stupid job! “That sounds great! Wanna meet somewhere?”
“Nah, let me come over, then we’ll only have to take one car. Save the environment and all that.”
“Sure.”
Emily put on her “go-to” dress, a shiny black number with spaghetti straps. It usually made all the men pay attention. She had on a black strapless bra and matching panties underneath. She fixed her makeup, rouging her lips and adding eyeliner, giving her a sexier look that the conservative image she tried to portray at work. In the mirror, she saw an appealing young woman staring back at her and winked. “Maybe you’ll get lucky tonight,” she cooed and laughed.
Julie came by within a half-hour and they hugged each other. Julie was a taller redhead with a figure she kept in shape with hours of work in the gym. Men loved her, but Julie was very particular. Tonight she had on a form-fitting green dress that went perfectly with her red hair. “I’m so happy to see you again, girl! I was worried that you might have to go home to mamma!”
“I just about did! I was broke, you know.”
“I know. It’s awful being broke. Have you gotten paid yet?”
“No, not until next week. But I don’t care! I’m going to have some fun tonight anyway!”
“Glad to hear. But don’t worry. The way we’re dressed, we probably won’t have to buy a drink all night!”
Julie drove to a hot spot that they both liked, Rosie’s Bar & Grill. The place had a live band on weekends and many of the local singles hung out, cruising for action or just enjoying their friends. Julie had been right—Emily had to buy exactly one beer during the evening. They danced, they drank and they partied away the workweek with some serious fun.
Neither one found “Mr. Right” that night. Not even “Mr. Maybe.” The men seemed too drunk, too stuck on themselves or too arrogant for either of their tastes. They wound up going home alone back to Emily’s apartment shortly after midnight.
“Come on in, I’ll fix you a drink.”
“Ohh, you tryin’ to seduce me, girl?”
“Oh, stop! I’m not that kind of girl!” Emily teased back.
“Tell ya the truth, I could really use a cup of coffee. I probably shouldn’t be driving.”
“No problem. Coming right up. Decaf, right?”
“Right. I don’t wanna be up all night. I just want to get home before the cops find out I’m on the road.”
Emily busied herself in the kitchen. Julie came in and sat at the small table. “Hey, you never told me about your job! What are you doing now, anyway?”
Emily felt a pang of something go through her. Was it embarrassment? Fear? She shook her head. “Oh, I’m just a secretary to some salesman at Bonham Industries. No big deal.”
“Really? That’s too bad.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I think you should have a job you like. Take mine, for example. I love working at the art gallery. Pay’s not too great, but I meet such interesting people.”
“You mean rich people, right?”