by W. Arthur
Tyler Simms shuffled some papers on his massive oak desk, scowled, and pressed a button on his intercom. "Miss Langley, please come to my office immediately," he said in a calm but assertive voice.
"Yes, Mr. Simms," a female voice at the other end replied.
Tyler leaned back in his leather office chair and looked at the papers once again. A minute later, there was a knock at his partially open door. A pretty young woman with long dark brown hair appeared in the opening.
"You wanted to see me, Mr. Simms?"
Tyler straightened in his chair and gazed into the soft green eyes of the young woman. "Yes, Miss Langley," he said. "Please come in and close the door."
Miss Langley entered the office and closed the door behind her. Her hands were trembling slightly and her legs appeared to be shaking beneath her short black dress. She approached the desk but didn't sit in one of the visitor chairs.
Tyler looked up from the papers. "Miss Langley, how long have you been working for this company?"
She looked down at her hands. "Uh... two years, Mr. Simms."
He nodded. "Certainly long enough to learn correct customer protocol, don't you think."
"Yes, sir."
"Then why have I received not one but three customer complaints in the past two days related to your deportment?"
Her eyes widened and her hands trembled even more. She gathered her breath. "I... I'm sure I don't know."
Tyler picked up one of the sheets of paper and read off several statements made by the three angry customers. The statements were very serious charges of her using impolite language and not addressing the customer's concerns. "What do you have to say to that, Miss Langley?" he asked once he was finished reading.
The young woman wiped a tear from her eye. "I... don't know what to say."
He continued to glare at her. "Did you use that language?"
She thought for a few seconds. "Uh... I might have, sir. I... was having a bad day."
He shook his head. "That's no excuse and you know it, don't you?"
She swallowed hard. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry."
"If you want to continue working here, we will need to deal with this. Do you want to continue working here?"
"Yes, sir," she replied quickly.
"Good, because I believe you have the potential to be a good employee." He stood up. "Okay, first of all, I have taken care of the customers, so we only have to deal with your poor behavior."
She took a deep breath. "Thank you, sir."
"Second, tomorrow you will report for mandatory re-training in customer relations."
She nodded. "Okay."
"Finally, there is the matter of your punishment."
"Punishment, sir?"
He scowled again. "Certainly, Miss Langley, you didn't think that you could simply skate by a problem this serious with a re-training session."
The young woman didn't answer, keeping her eyes firmly on the carpeted floor.
"Mistakes of this magnitude require punishment," Tyler said. "Now, I could suspend you without pay for a week or I could reduce your salary." That got her attention.
"Oh, no, Mr. Simms. Please don't do that. I can't afford to take a pay cut or get suspended."
"There is an alternative," he said.
"What is it?"
"One that I've done before. One that has proven to be very effective, but is not very pleasant."
Her face brightened slightly. "What is it, Mr. Simms? I will do just about anything to keep my job and avoid losing pay."
"I'm talking about a paddling, Miss Langley, a paddling administered immediately to your bare bottom while you're bent over the desk."
Her mouth gaped open. "A paddling, Mr. Simms? Is that what you just said?"
"Yes. Have you ever been paddled before?"
She appeared as though she wanted to run out of the office. She didn't answer the question.
He shook his head again. "We're wasting time, Miss Langley," he said. "I asked if you've ever been paddled before."
"Uh... yes, sir. My mother used the paddle on me and my brother occasionally."
"Okay. Now, you have to decide right this instant," he said. "If you choose to be paddled, please bend over the desk, raise the hem of your dress, and lower your undergarment." He clapped his hands once for emphasis.
"Is this really necessary?"
"It is if you want to keep your job and not get suspended."
She thought for a few seconds, then nodded and approached the desk. When she reached it, she bent her upper body over the polished surface, reached back and lifted the hem of her dress above her waist. She followed this by lowering her white cotton panties to below her thighs.
Tyler opened the top drawer of his credenza and extracted a fraternity-type paddle. He clutched it in his right hand and moved out from behind the desk. He gazed at the bare bottom of his employee. "This will not be pleasant for either of us," he said. "But it will be a valuable learning experience."
He retracted his right arm and snapped it forward. The paddle bit into the exposed flesh producing a bright red rectangle. She gasped from the pain. He put his left hand on her back and struck again, this time a little lower. She tried to rear up but couldn't.
Over the next minute, he administered ten harsh strokes of the paddle, covering every square centimeter of her lush bottom, turning it deep red in the process. Tears massed in her eyes and streamed down her face.
When he was finished with the paddling, he set the paddle down on the desk next to her. "Okay, Miss Langley," he said. "You may get up and restore your attire. When you are quite under control, you may return to your work station. The training session starts at 0800 in the conference room. I advise you to be on time." He backed away.
For a few seconds, Miss Langley didn't move, as though she was frozen in place or too stunned to process what she had just experienced. Finally, she pushed herself up and rubbed her bottom. She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at her boss. "Uh... Mr. Simms?"
"What is it, Miss Langley? I said you could go."
The hem of her dress had fallen back down, but she made no move to pull up her panties. "Mr. Simms, I was... uh... wondering if you could sort of hold me for a minute."
He gazed at her. "I'm not at all certain that would be appropriate, Miss Langley."
She gave him a small hopeful smile. "Please, sir."
He looked at her and noted the smile, noted the tears, and he felt something he hadn't felt for a long time, some sort of primal tug. He approached her and pulled her into his arms. She responded first by resting her head on his shoulder, then by lifting the hem of her dress and pressing her body into his.
"Simms... wake up!"
At the sound of the voice, Tyler Simms awoke with such a start he nearly fell out of his cloth-covered office chair. His eyes sprung open. He swiveled and saw a middle-aged man in a business suit standing in the doorway to his cubby. "What the hell, Carter!" he said. "I'm on my lunch break."
The man in the doorway shook his head. "Look at the clock, Tyler," he said. "It's nearly two. Lunch break ended an hour ago."
Tyler sat up in his chair and glanced at the analog clock on the wall of his cubby. "Oh... I must have slept longer than I planned." He stood up and tried to clear the dream fragments from his head. He glanced at Carter. "Okay... I'm awake and ready to work. What's the big deal anyway?"
Carter scowled. "Langley is on the warpath again," he said. "All outstanding claims must be processed by five this afternoon. No exceptions."
"Why?"
"She says she won't authorize any more overtime. If you're not finished, you'll have to work on your own time."
"That isn't right," Tyler said. "If she wasn't the daughter of the CEO, she'd never get away with that crap."
"Maybe not. But she is Old Man Langley's daughter and she's our boss, so it's best to stop bitching and get back to work while you still have a job."
Tyler scanned his small cubby, his eyes moving from the computer screen on his cheap desk to his diploma from Forest State to his discharge certificate from the Army. How did I end up here? he wondered. He regarded Carter for a second. "If I had just a little of her money or some of her contacts, I would turn the tables on her," he muttered.
Carter shook his head. "Well, you don't, so forget it." He turned and disappeared into the long corridor.
"Someday," Tyler muttered again as he sat down and wheeled himself to the computer screen.
Tyler finished his work and shut down his computer at five thirty. When he exited his cubby, he found the area - all twenty cubicles and Susan Langley's office - was entirely deserted. He shook his head and muttered under his breath as he made his way through the office maze and out of the five-story building into the parking lot to his five-year-old Honda Accord.
On the twenty-minute drive home, he reflected on his life. He was thirty years old, a veteran of the US Army, and had a bachelor's degree in business. And yet, here he was, a low-level claims processor in a medium-sized insurance company, earning $39,000 dollars a year, driving a relatively inexpensive car, and living in a one-bedroom apartment. He had few friends and had trouble getting a woman to go out with him - his last date was two months ago, and there hadn't been a second date.
As he pulled into the parking lot, he recalled the intense dream he was having while asleep in his office chair. He had had the dream before - it was one of his favorites. Someday he would put the haughty and totally unobtainable Susan Langley in her place. "Oh, sure," he said aloud in a sarcastic voice. "Just keep dreaming and it will happen."
Once inside his cheap apartment, he opened a can of beer and sat down on his sofa. He was hoping to fall asleep again and have the dream in which the beautiful but unfortunate Miss Langley had to go across his lap for some additional training. However, in spite of his desire and a second can of beer, his mind wouldn't slow down enough for him to sleep.
He was about to get a third can of beer when he heard a knock at his door. "Who the hell could that be?" he grumbled.
He looked through the peephole and saw a very well-dressed middle-aged man standing on the stoop. The man was holding an expensive-looking leather brief case. Probably a salesman, Tyler thought. But he opened the door anyway.
The man smiled when he saw Tyler. "Are you Tyler Simms?" he asked.
"Yes."
The man nodded. "I'm Preston Whitaker, attorney for the late Joseph and Rose Adderly."
"What do you want?"
"May I come in, Mr. Simms?"
Tyler continued to scan his visitor. "Look, if you're selling something, I'm not interested."
Whitaker gazed at Tyler and smiled again. "I'm not selling anything, Mr. Simms. But I believe you'll want to hear what I have come to say."
"Who are you again?"
"Preston Whitaker, attorney for Rose and Joseph Adderly."
"Should I have heard of them?"
"You don't know who they are?"
"No."
"Mr. Simms, what I have to say is better discussed inside rather than on your front stoop. May I come in, please?"
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