her belly, wondering what their
relationship was. Just business, surely?
Kelsey went back
to her seat and busied herself at her computer, hiding behind it as she began
typing the memo from the crumpled note she’d spread out on her desk. They were
still working the bugs out of the new interoffice message system, and she hoped
the new ID the tech guy had given her worked this time. Last week, her messages
had gone floating somewhere into the ether, and the entire office hadn’t known
about the upcoming audit.
But Oliver didn’t
threaten to spank you for that mistake, did he?
Kelsey stared
blankly at what she’d typed, her face flushing with heat at the memory of her
boss’s words. Spank. Surely he hadn’t meant it literally. Spank. Maybe it was a metaphor? Oliver wouldn’t actually spank her. That would be…
well, wrong. So why did the thought of it make her belly burn and her ass
clench?
Sexual
harassment had been covered in a whole class during her orientation, and she
was pretty sure something like that would qualify. Of course it would. If
casual touching and dirty jokes could be considered harassment, spanking would
cross every conceivable line in the handbook!
But would you
tell anyone?
What if Oliver
Pierce did decide to spank her? She closed her eyes, imagining being bent over
his big desk, his hands pulling up her skirt. Oh, no doubt, it would be
humiliating. It would be humbling. It would most certainly be twisted and
disturbing and downright perverted.
So why was she
getting wet just thinking about it?
She wondered if something
qualified sexual harassment if the harrassee didn’t mind?
Her best friend,
Jenna, who had at least landed a job in her field after they
graduated—nursing—had explained that all businesses did training about sexual
harassment now. And of course, with so many younger, good-looking people
working for the insurance giant that Oliver Pierce ran—including himself—the
whole sexual harassment thing had to be covered thoroughly with all of the
employees.
Kelsey stared at
her computer screen, lost in thought. She’d tried for months to find a job in
her field—journalism—after college, but it had been fruitless. Finally, in
desperation, she’d applied for this position. Executive secretary. She had no
experience as a secretary, but she was incredibly well-organized and could type
ninety words per minute. She’d padded her resume with as many skills as she
could muster, and to her surprise—to everyone’s surprise—Oliver had hired her.
She still couldn’t figure out why.
She ran spell-check—Oliver
was a stickler for errors—and then triple-checked the memo.
Please note the
change in our Lockheed meeting time. Due to the audit, we will be meeting in conference
room C at 2 pm tomorrow. As you know, the Lockheed account is up for re-bid,
and I don’t think anyone else can touch us on it, but I need the Lockheed
numbers from all of you at the meeting, everything up to date.
Regards,
Oliver Pierce
OP/kw
Kelsey hit “send”
as Oliver’s office door opened. She glanced up, seeing Helena Lockheed exiting,
the door closing quickly behind her, her long legs scissoring across the tile
floor to the elevator.
She wondered
what had happened behind closed doors—her imagination was working overtime—but
neither woman spoke. Kelsey was too terrified to say anything, and she assumed
Mrs. Lockheed found Oliver Pierce’s secretary too much of a peon to pay
attention to. The elevator opened and swallowed the woman’s svelte figure,
leaving Kelsey alone again, still waiting for the familiar “message sent”
window to appear. It was taking forever! She nibbled on her index-finger nail
as she watched the hourglass.
“What the—?”
A window popped
up: “ Message Sent to All Employees ,” followed by a blinking “ New
Message ” notification. So did it send or not? She wondered. Maybe the new
message was her message? Hoping that was the case, Kelsey clicked on
relationship was. Just business, surely?
Kelsey went back
to her seat and busied herself at her computer, hiding behind it as she began
typing the memo from the crumpled note she’d spread out on her desk. They were
still working the bugs out of the new interoffice message system, and she hoped
the new ID the tech guy had given her worked this time. Last week, her messages
had gone floating somewhere into the ether, and the entire office hadn’t known
about the upcoming audit.
But Oliver didn’t
threaten to spank you for that mistake, did he?
Kelsey stared
blankly at what she’d typed, her face flushing with heat at the memory of her
boss’s words. Spank. Surely he hadn’t meant it literally. Spank. Maybe it was a metaphor? Oliver wouldn’t actually spank her. That would be…
well, wrong. So why did the thought of it make her belly burn and her ass
clench?
Sexual
harassment had been covered in a whole class during her orientation, and she
was pretty sure something like that would qualify. Of course it would. If
casual touching and dirty jokes could be considered harassment, spanking would
cross every conceivable line in the handbook!
But would you
tell anyone?
What if Oliver
Pierce did decide to spank her? She closed her eyes, imagining being bent over
his big desk, his hands pulling up her skirt. Oh, no doubt, it would be
humiliating. It would be humbling. It would most certainly be twisted and
disturbing and downright perverted.
So why was she
getting wet just thinking about it?
She wondered if something
qualified sexual harassment if the harrassee didn’t mind?
Her best friend,
Jenna, who had at least landed a job in her field after they
graduated—nursing—had explained that all businesses did training about sexual
harassment now. And of course, with so many younger, good-looking people
working for the insurance giant that Oliver Pierce ran—including himself—the
whole sexual harassment thing had to be covered thoroughly with all of the
employees.
Kelsey stared at
her computer screen, lost in thought. She’d tried for months to find a job in
her field—journalism—after college, but it had been fruitless. Finally, in
desperation, she’d applied for this position. Executive secretary. She had no
experience as a secretary, but she was incredibly well-organized and could type
ninety words per minute. She’d padded her resume with as many skills as she
could muster, and to her surprise—to everyone’s surprise—Oliver had hired her.
She still couldn’t figure out why.
She ran spell-check—Oliver
was a stickler for errors—and then triple-checked the memo.
Please note the
change in our Lockheed meeting time. Due to the audit, we will be meeting in conference
room C at 2 pm tomorrow. As you know, the Lockheed account is up for re-bid,
and I don’t think anyone else can touch us on it, but I need the Lockheed
numbers from all of you at the meeting, everything up to date.
Regards,
Oliver Pierce
OP/kw
Kelsey hit “send”
as Oliver’s office door opened. She glanced up, seeing Helena Lockheed exiting,
the door closing quickly behind her, her long legs scissoring across the tile
floor to the elevator.
She wondered
what had happened behind closed doors—her imagination was working overtime—but
neither woman spoke. Kelsey was too terrified to say anything, and she assumed
Mrs. Lockheed found Oliver Pierce’s secretary too much of a peon to pay
attention to. The elevator opened and swallowed the woman’s svelte figure,
leaving Kelsey alone again, still waiting for the familiar “message sent”
window to appear. It was taking forever! She nibbled on her index-finger nail
as she watched the hourglass.
“What the—?”
A window popped
up: “ Message Sent to All Employees ,” followed by a blinking “ New
Message ” notification. So did it send or not? She wondered. Maybe the new
message was her message? Hoping that was the case, Kelsey clicked on
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