THREE
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Ever-vigilant reader, allow me to paint a truly horrifying picture for you.
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I was home in my striped pink and grey pj pants with matching pink tank top, hair piled atop my head in a messy bun, and a freshly delivered pizza on my couch while Netflix played season nine of The Office for the millionth time, when......
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Knock knock!
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Those pretty italics don't quite do the knocks justice. It was more like:
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Knock knock!
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Hmm... Not quite. Almost there. Maybe:
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KNOCK KNOCK!!!
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Yep, that's more like it.
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To further explain: the TV had just reintroduced Plop and Fart, and I had just opened the lid to my cheese pizza when the thunderous boom erupted from my door like Thor himself had come to deliver the wrath of Odin.
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Did I mention that I'm an over-thinker? I'm also anxiety-ridden, and paranoid. Which means my first thought was:
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IT'S MR. TOM BANNER COME TO KILL ME FOR LEAVING WORK FIVE MINUTES EARLY SHIIIII--
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"Lucy open the damn door, I know you're in there, I can hear Jim Halpert whining about his boring life, and I smell pizza!"
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"Elliot?" Rushing to the door, I allowed my friend to enter. "Why are you knocking like your fist is made of stone! You scared me!" I slammed the door shut and stomped passed him.
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"I lost my key." He shrugged defensively, following me into the living room. With a huff and a furrowed brow I slumped back into my cozy white couch with my cheesy pizza.
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"Uhm," Elliot sat on the footrest in front of the couch so that we're eye to eye. "Why do I get the feeling you're mad at me?"
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"Because I am." I muttered, turning my body directly towards the T.V.
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With a sigh, Elliot picked up the remote and clicked PAUSE.
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"Hey!"
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"Now listen here for a minute, you know I don't put up with the silent treatment. If something's bothering you, you speak up and tell me."
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I glared murderously at him. He hadn’t taken that tone with me since we lived together.
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"Well?" He quirked one eyebrow. That damn tone always makes me feel like I was shrinking.
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"You were getting all chummy with captain fart-breath." I grumbled petulantly. He snorted a laugh.
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"You're mad because I got along with my boss today?"
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"There was something more going on! Michael was there too! And I knew it wasn't just coincidence that Mr. Boss Man called you in just minutes after I had spoken to you both!"
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"Okay, calm down." He held up his hands before placing one in my hair, cradling the side of my head. "You're right, we were talking about you."
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I sputtered a gasp. "I knew it!"
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"Now hold on, let me finish."
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I reluctantly pressed my lips together and let him speak.
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"Banner's just worried about you. He wanted to know what relationship Michael and I had with you so that he could ask us to help keep an eye on you."
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"Keep an eye on me!" I cried furiously. "I'm not a child!"
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"Be flattered, he likes you."
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"I don't care! I don't like him!"
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"You sure about that?" He grinned with a knowing twinkle in his eye and I growled and shoved him away. He fell back slowly, clasping his hands over his chest and feigning impalement.
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"You're such an ass. So what, you and Michael are best buds now?" I glared.
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Elliot raised up on his elbows and shrugged. "I dunno... He's certainly not as bad as I remember."
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"Humph." I grunt with a disinterested shrug before picking up the remote and pressing PLAY on The Office. As coworkers are tossing trash at Nellie, I nibble on my pizza.
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"He'll be happy to know you're eating." Elliot jerked his chin towards my pizza before sitting in the loveseat across from me.
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"Ugh, in that case." I tossed the pizza back into the box.
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"Don't be childish." He scolded, standing and striding over. He picked up the pizza and when I refused to take it, he held it up to my lips. I glared at him, stubbornly pressing my lips together until he warningly quirked one agitated eyebrow, ordering; "bite."
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Half tempted to push his buttons, I opened my mouth obediently and took a little bite of the pizza.
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"Good girl." He smirked, and I groan and topple forwards, burying my face in the couch cushions. I felt the couch dip as Elliot sat beside me. He rubbed my back and I heard him sigh.
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"Yep, this should be interesting."
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"So, what, you and Michael are my new babysitters?"
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"Do you need a babysitter?"
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"I'm going to slug you!"
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He chuckles. "No, we're just going to help you at work. Make sure you get your work done without overexerting yourself. And well," I sat up and watched a wicked grin spread across his face. "I get to make sure you're behaving yourself outside of work."
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"Behaving myself?" I all but shrieked, and he threw his head back and laughed.
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"Calm down! I mean that I'll just be making sure you're eating and resting, that's all."
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"This is absurd." I muttered, crossing my arms and huffing furiously.
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"Calm it down, tiger." Elliot chuckled, patting my head.
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"Why are you acting like you enjoy this?" I snapped at him.
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"I do enjoy this." He smiled sincerely and my anger gently dissipated. My scowl softened and I studied him as he said: "I like taking care of you, little brat. You haven't let me in a long time."
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"That's because I don't need it." I sighed. "I'm all grown up..." My mind flashed back to the day I met Elliot. I was alone, and young, and I needed him. I was proud of the steps I made to get where I am now, a confident, strong adult who could take care of herself.
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This was a step back. I frowned.
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"You always liked it when I took care of you before. Didn't you?" His tone doubted himself.
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"Of course..." I answered softly, twiddling my fingers in my lap. "But you can't take care of me forever."
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Elliot sighed, and tucked an arm around my shoulders. I leaned into him and allowed myself to lose the guard I'd so carefully built around myself.
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"We'll see, little brat. We'll see."
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***
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The next morning, the day started with a miserable hiccup. You see, Oh-Ever-Faithful-Reader, I was attempting to publish a book. I finished the damn thing months ago, reserved an extra month for writing and perfecting an outstanding query letter, and then researched twelve literary agents to submit my work too.
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And— pardon my language— the process was a bitch. Especially when I checked my email every morning over my coffee to find not a single unread email waiting for my eager eyes.
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Or even worse: an email awaiting my attention, calling me, begging to be opened immediately, only to see those hated, rotten lines: "thank you for thinking of our publishing house, unfortunately..."
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Bastards. Oh, universe, just a little help, please? The universe needs a hearing aid because the bitter bitch obviously can't hear me.
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So, my Dearest Reader, I think I was perfectly entitled to a bad day, wouldn't you agree?
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Well, the three men in my life, who had unnecessarily taken it upon themselves to all-but play guardian, would disagree.
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That morning, I arrived to work a little later than I normally do. And by a little later I mean...twenty minutes after.
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Oops.
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Whatever, I had a bad morning, right?
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Well, over the past several days, I had been under the thumb of Elliot, Michael, and at times, Mr. Tom Banner, (who insisted I call him Tom, but my stubbornness encourages me not to.)
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The day I was late to work was no different. I felt their eyes on me the second I entered the office, the traitorous elevator with its all too cheery ding, betraying what I had hoped would be a sneaky arrival.
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I kept my eyes down, which wasn't all that intentional. I was incredibly bummed, and my low-energy-level and absolute lack of motivation to do or feel anything allowed me to— with little to no care— slump into my desk without a single peek at Mr. Tom Banner who stood behind his glass walls, hands on hips, wearing that disapproving frown...
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"You're late." A nasal voice, dripping with disdain caught a fraction of my attention. Peering beneath my messy bangs, I scowled at Stupid Susan and her stupid glasses. "You're never late, little miss goodie two-shoes. What's wrong with you?"
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"Nothing." I muttered, turning my eyes forward and wiggling the mouse on my desk until the screen of my computer lit up the desktop background of a summer field with one yellow flower.
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"Lucy, you've really done it this time." Elliot appeared beside me, speaking low in my ear so no one else would hear our conversation. "Banner wants to speak with you."
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"What, are you his little raven now?" I grumbled without looking at him. "Fly away, birdie, I'm trying to work."
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A fierce grip on my arm made me hiss in pain, followed by a growling order of: "now" told me I had pushed Elliot too far. And surprisingly, I felt that nervous titter in my belly that I used to feel when I deliberately disrespected Elliot.
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But that was a long time ago, and surely he wouldn't handle it in the same manner now as he would have back then...
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As he pulled me to my feet, I stumbled ungracefully on my heels. He placed me in front of him and urged me forward as he followed behind— the masked executioner marching me to the gallows...
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Michael, with his as-equally disapproving frown, as if he practiced it in the mirror to perfectly match Mr. Tom Banners, met us at the gates of hell before Lucifer himself opened the glass door to allow entry.
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I went in first, all but shoved in by Elliot who was followed closely by Michael, and then finally Mr. Tom Banner who closed the door, trapping me inside a room with three large men who all studied me as if I were a naughty seven year old with her hand caught in the cookie jar.
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"Please have a seat, Lucy." The Greek God behind the desk waved a hand at the two chairs that stood against the glass walls of his office.
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Reluctantly sitting, Michael found the seat beside mine while Elliot stood, arms crossed.
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Mr. Tom Banner didn't sit behind his own desk. Instead, he walked around to the front of it, leaned into it, and crossed his arms over his chest, and legs at the ankles.
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I squirmed.
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"Lucy, why do you think I've asked you in here today?" He asked me slowly, his tone telling me I was in trouble. And despite my best efforts to remain ram-rod straight in the seat, I felt myself shrink just a little.
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"I was late, sir." I answered him, my voice struggling to remain sturdy, strong, and confident.
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"Mhm, and why were you late?"
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I opened my mouth to answer, but what could I possibly say? Receiving a rejection on a book wasn't excuse enough to trudge through my morning routine, causing me to be twenty minutes late to work.
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And besides, Elliot was the only one who knew about the book and my attempt to publish, and that was one person too many.
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"I'd rather not say, sir." I answered, raising my chin as I met Mr. Tom Banners unblinking stare.
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"Lucy..." Elliot warned from where he towered over me, but Michael interrupted from beside me.
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"Young lady, when has that attitude ever worked out for you?"
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I wasn't prepared for the old scolding nick-name that immediately turned Adult-Lucia into Little-Lucy, the naughty little brat who deserved a sound scolding for her blatant disrespect.
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I scowled, lowered my chin, and crossed my arms defiantly over my chest. "Well, I thought it just might..." I grouched with a huff.
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"I remember a naughty little girl who would find herself over my knee for something like that."
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I gasped. My head snapped up to his, and then Mr. Tom Banner’s, and then to Elliot, and then back to Michael.
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"He knows." Elliot assured me, and I gasped again.
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"How!"
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"I figured it out on my own." Mr. Tom Banner's gentle voice entered the conversation and my eyes hesitantly found his as a blush crept brightly up my neck. "You have a certain aura about you that gives you away. Under any amount of authority, you slip into that little girl that is hiding so deeply beneath the mask you've given yourself."
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"It's not a mask! It's..." My eyes surveyed the three men around me. "It's just… Me. I've grown up. I'm not..." My voice slipped. "I'm not little anymore. I have a job, an apartment, and responsibilities. There's no time to be little. And," my head snapped up as I addressed the men with a hard edge in my voice; climbing out of my little shell. "I don't need to be babied by you three misogynistic ass holes, who think you can just—"
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The world turned upside down. Cutting off my tirade, I found myself overturned on Michael's lap. Blinds were lowering over the glass walls of the office, and before I could cry a pleading yelp, Michael was spanking me.
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No, no, no! This was not happening! I am an adult! I am a responsible, mature adult who doesn’t need any amount of supervision or guidance! This is insulting! Insulting I sa—
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Smack smack smack smack smack smack smack smack smack smack...
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"Ooooowwwwwwwww!" I whined, arching my back. I threw my head back and tossed the hair from my face.
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This was wildly unfair. I hadn't been in this position in well over a year. I was too old for this! I wouldn't stand for it! I wou—
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Smack smack smack smack smack smack smack smack smack smack...
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"Ooooowwwwww..." I cried as tears pooled in my eyes and my bottom stung terribly with each stinging swat delivered by Michael.
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How could I let myself forget that Michael had the hardest hand of the two? I should have mouthed off more directly to Elliot. If I had, my spanking would be far more tolerable right now.
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"I'm sorry, Michael! I'm sorry!" I cried, kicking my feet, losing my heels somewhere along the way, and mentally thanking the gods that he hadn't lifted my skirt to discipline my bare bottom.
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When Michael's hand ceased its merciless fall, I was crying quite pitifully over his knee. My fists pressed into my eyes, and I felt very...little.
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"Do I have your attention now, little one?" His voice penetrated the noisy pounding of my heart in my ears, and I offered a weak nod.
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Another swat landed on my bottom.
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"Words, sweetheart."
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"Yes, sir." I sniffled.
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"Now," he rubbed circles into my burning bottom over the thin fabric of my black, pencil work skirt. "When have you ever gotten away with outbursts like that?"
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I shake my head, my fists still balled into my eyes. His palm fell again.
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"Ooowww..." I whined, squirming anew over Michael's lap.
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"Lucy..." he warned.
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"El-Elliot doesn't m-mind..."
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"I've tried to respect your boundaries, little girl." I felt Elliot's hand soothingly rub my back. "But I see now that I was teaching bad habits to a once very well-behaved girl."
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I sniffled, shook my head and opted not to say anything. Thankfully my silence didn't warrant another swat to my already-aching bottom.
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Man, I was out of practice. Years ago, living with Elliot and having him and Michael looking out for me, I would have taken today's spanking with hardly any fuss.
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What a crybaby I've become.
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"Do you want to tell us why you're behaving like a naughty five year old today?" Michael asked and when I didn't immediately answer, his hand patted my rump. "Do I need to lift this skirt and spank a naughty little girl on her bare bottom?"
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I shook my head wildly. "N-no! No, sir!"
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"Then answer me when I ask you a question, young lady."
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Sniffling and pouting, I answered Michael's question in a little voice that I hadn’t used in a very long time.
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"I got rejected today..."
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"Rejected?"
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Michael didn't know.
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"Your book?"
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Elliot did.
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Gently, Michael lifted me from his knee and cradled me in his lap. I took that moment to look at Elliot when my eyes crashed with Mr. Tom Banner's instead.
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Oh. My. God. How could I have forgotten that he was in the room? And he bore witness to that whole thing! My spanking, and Little Lucy...
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Ugh, kill me. Just kill me with an ice pick through my eyeball.
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Blushing feverishly, a fresh wave of tears spilled from my eyes as I buried my face in the crook of Michael's neck, utterly and completely humiliated.
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"Lucy," I heard Tom’s voice, coaxing me gently, sweetly, to look at him.
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I shook my head, and pressed my eyes shut.
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"Come on, pretty girl. Look at me."
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That caught my attention. He sounded so nice... So understanding.
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I opened my eyes and saw him kneeling, and smiling like a handsome angel come to save me from myself.
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"I think you're such a big, brave girl, sweet, Little Lucy." He crooned, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear, and then trailing the pad of his thumb down the curve of my cheek. "And I really want to get to know you. Will you let me do that? Can we be friends, sweet little girl?"
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It wasn't fair. He wasn't talking to Lucia-- wedding coordinator/sales director, aspiring writer, and employee of his company. He was talking to Little Lucy. And I really wanted to say yes, because he was giving me that smile that made everything in the world seem better than it actually was.
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Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, I thought to myself. No, no, no! I've come too far to go back now!
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My eyes stared beseechingly into his— begging him to understand, desperate that he see the struggle and the reason why I can not...Will not...
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"Look around you, Angel. Look at these men, who need to take care of you as badly as you need to be taken care of."
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I did. I looked at Michael, he looked over the moon to have me cradled in his lap like he used to.
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And Elliot, my best friend, the man who wanted so desperately to play the role of big brother to me once again.
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And Mr. Tom Banner. My scary grouch of a boss who made my heart flutter inside my chest. This brooding, unflinching man who looked like a completely different person right now.
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He wanted this so badly... But why?
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I left the office with the opportunity to "think on it," and tried to focus on my work, but that was almost as impossible as trying to sit still in an office chair while my bottom burned and the rest of my body glowed with a special kind of relief I hadn't felt since Michael and Elliot looked after me.
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They were still in the office, discussing me no doubt, and the shades were still drawn so I couldn't see their conversation.
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Ugh, why didn't they just let me go home? I obviously wasn't in the right head-space to be here, and—
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"Lucy, your 3PM lunch meeting called while you were in that meeting," Stupid Susan complained from across the walkway, her chin jutting towards the fortress of glass, obviously eager to know why I was getting so much face-time with the boss these days. "They need to reschedule for much earlier."
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"How much earlier?"
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"11:30AM"
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"Today? I won't get there in time!"
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The lunch meeting was with a big potential client who was in the final steps of signing their contracts with the company to host their daughter's ridiculously absurd wedding that will be out-of-this-world-expensive; meaning it'll make up over half my year's commission.
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Getting through Portland city traffic was a nightmare though, and it was already 10:10AM, and the restaurant they'd chosen to close the final papers was all the way across town!
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I gathered their final contract, slung my purse across my shoulder, and tripped awkwardly in my heels to the front of the office until I stood at the impenetrable force of the glass castle.
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I raised my knuckles to knock, but something tugged my hand back down.
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Lucia tugged my hand back down. Lucy wanted to tell the three men who worried over me about my schedule change, about where I'd be when they eventually came out of the office.
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But Lucia would have never done that— it's work. It's my job. I'm just doing my job. A client rescheduled a work meeting. It wasn't a big deal.
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Tripping back down the path of desks to my own, I hastily ask Stup— Susan to kindly tell Mr. Tom Banner where I've gone, to which she replied with a sardonic smile and an; "of course."
It gave me an icky feeling, but having someone else pass onto the boss-man my current whereabouts was still more than I would normally do.
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With a hundred emotions whirling about my tiny body, I left the office in the dinging elevator feeling overwhelmed and exhausted.
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Maybe I could move to Canada or something...
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