Taking His Hand (Under His Roof #2)

by Sadey Quinn

  “Aria is a client of mine, Rachel. I’ve known her for over a year. I’ve watched her struggle with you—even though I didn’t know it was you until recently. She’s actually my only conflict of interest case yet. I’m sorry you had to find out about her, for both her sake and yours. But you have to understand that my job is a job. It’s what I do. Do I care about my clients? Yes. Do I want to sleep with them? No. Understand?”

  “No. I don’t understand. I don’t ‘get’ how you can be around attractive women and be so intimate with them but not want to sleep with them.”

  “Do you want to sleep with your male clients?”

  “Um, that’s a little different, David.”

  “It is and it isn’t.” He sighs, and leans back against the ground. He looks tired. “Rachel, I believe in what I do. I think it’s a good thing. I think I help my clients out a lot. But, I would quit for you. I would go get a job in town. If you can’t handle this part of me, I would change.”

  Tears are in my eyes as I see the pained look grow on his face. “How many clients do you have?”

  “Right now, twenty-two. It’s usually between twenty and thirty. Some people grow out of their need and occasionally a new client contacts me. Like you did.”

  We sit in silence for a few minutes. I’m thinking about his twenty-two clients. Naked. All of them, in the same room, dancing for David. It really isn’t a pleasant daydream.

  “My clients are mothers,” he says softly, breaking our silence. “They are teachers. Wives. Students. Executives. Secretaries.”

  “I get it. They’re people.”

  “They’re people.”

  “How come you don’t have male clients?”

  “I do, on occasion. I get inquiries from men. Most are looking for a sexual experience.”

  This makes me wince, and David chuckles.

  “Some women looking for sex, too, but it’s usually easy to filter them out. Women who are willing to pay a disciplinarian are unique. Most of them, at some point—either in their application or our initial interview—mention their relief that sex is off the table. They want to be spanked, pure and simple. Rachel, think about it. Do you know how easy it would be for you to find a guy to spank your ass?”

  I’m surprised by the question, and look at him blankly.

  “We could go online right now, and find you a guy in approximately thirty minutes. You could get spanked, for free, tonight. But guess what?”

  “What?”

  “You’d be putting yourself at risk. First, because a random guy isn’t going to have references. Second, he may or may not know what the hell he’s doing, and could hurt you, physically or emotionally. Or both. Third, he might pressure you for sex. And women who have just had a discipline session, however well executed, are vulnerable.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh. With me, clients get references. They get security. I take their health and well-being very seriously. And I get to watch them improve, succeed and become happier, better people with my help. It’s rewarding. It…” he trails off, looking uncomfortable. “I love my job. But I’ll stop doing this, if you need me to.”

  Wow. A tear runs down his cheek and I brush it away with my thumb before wrapping my arms around him. Even though I hate thinking about him with his clients, I do get it. I understand it. I was, after all, one of his clients. I didn’t mind paying him because yes, it felt safe. If I had to worry about my safety or unwanted sexual advances, I don’t think I would’ve gone through with it.

  I break away from the hug. “I can deal with it. I understand.”

  The look of relief on his face is intense.

  “But what about Aria?” I continue. “Do you have to keep seeing her?”

  “I don’t,” he says quietly. “I spoke with her about that today. She will understand if you want me to terminate my interaction with her. She also assured me that she would never, ever, tell anyone about my profession, or the fact you and I are together. She really cares about you.”

  Seriously? I find it hard to believe that the Secretary from Hell cares about me. She never cared enough to alphabetize files correctly.

  “One slip up from her could get me into serious trouble,” I say.

  “Rachel, I know she didn’t do great work for you, but did she ever do anything malicious? Ever? Even once? Have you ever heard her gossip or speak poorly of someone?”

  Hmm. With the exception of the week after she got dumped by her boyfriend, Aria was always a perky, happy presence in my office. She bought me and others coffee from the cafe across the street, and sometimes she brought in brownies or cupcakes that she’d baked at home. I rack my brain, trying to recall if she’d ever spoken about a co-worker in a bad way, but I can’t remember. I barely talked to her except when I needed to.

  “I guess not,” I finally reply.

  He’s quiet for a moment, and I can tell he’s thinking about how to say what he’s about to say.

  “I asked Aria if I could speak to you about why she came here last night.”

  “Yeah. Good. I thought it was incredibly rude of her to show up, so late, unannounced.”

  “She had e-mailed me, and texted me, but I didn’t check my phone. We had guests,” he says. “She is really, really sad that you don’t want her to work for you anymore.”

  “She is a terrible secretary!” I’m astounded that she cares at all who she works for, since she clearly doesn’t care about her job enough to do it well.

  “She knows she screws up a lot,” David says. He closes his eyes and rubs his temple.

  “Headache?”

  “Massive headache.” He manages a smile. “I keep telling her to explore other opportunities. There’s so much she’d be good at. She just doesn’t have the head for doing office work.”

  “I don’t see why she’s so upset. She ended up getting transferred. She still has a job.”

  “Because she feels rejected by you. And, frankly, it didn’t help that you told her you tried to have her completely fired from Lakeside.” He looks me in the eyes and I shrink back just a bit. “Or that you told her human resources kept you from doing this long ago.”

  “Well, they did,” I snap.

  “Sure, but did you have to tell her?”

  “I’m an honest person.”

  “Sweetie, you’re honest. Good. But you gotta realize that your words have an effect on people. Aria really looks up to you.”

  I lay back on the grass and stare up at the sky. It’s mostly clear today, but there are a couple of clouds. One looks like the Michelin Man.

  I don’t feel like crying anymore, or demanding David quit his job. I’m just unsettled, thinking about Aria. She did look really hurt last night. It’s weird, I’m both empathetic with her and completely annoyed about the entire situation. It’s foreign to me.

  David lays beside me and holds my hand in his. “I love you, baby. I seriously want to beat your butt for being inconsiderate. But I’m not going to spank you for this unless you ask me to. I just can’t. I have my limits, too. This is something I don’t want to force on you. And sweetie, I know this isn’t easy for you. It isn’t fair. It’s just…well, it’s life. It’s our situation right now.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” I say.

  “Good.”

  We lay like that, each in our own thoughts, for quite awhile.

  “Maybe I should spank people, too,” I say. I’m being flippant but I don’t care.

  “Actually, I’ve thought about that.”

  “What?”

  “I think some women would prefer to be spanked by another woman.”

  I stare at him in disbelief. “What?” I ask again.

  “It’s the safety thing. For a lot of my clients, my being male is really important. But for others, it’s a downside. I’ve been contacted by women who don’t want to schedule an appointment with me, but ask for a referral for a female disciplinarian.”

  “David, I was joking.”

  “I know you w
ere. I’m just saying…it’s a possibility. I’d have to teach you so many things. But you could learn.”

  “I have a job.”

  “This could be part time.”

  “David!” I burst out laughing and he joins me, wrapping his arms around me in a giant hug. We lay together, embracing, and Sparky wanders over to lick our faces and join in the love.

  When my stomach rumbles, David pats my side. “Time to make dinner.”

  While we stroll back toward the house, he wraps his arm around my waist.

  “Tell me about Jeremy,” he says.

  I roll my eyes at the thought of my co-worker. “He’s so annoying. Kind of a hot shot. Always showing off, bragging when he’s done something right. He’s got a bit of a temper. People usually prefer to work with me, which may surprise you.” I glance over at him and he does, indeed, look surprised by this.

  “You think Aria will be all right, working for him?”

  I tense. That’s why he asked about Jeremy. David doesn’t care about my relationships with my co-workers, but he does care about my ex-secretary’s future with her new boss. “She’ll be fine,” I say, not hiding the irritation from my tone.

  He tightens his grip on me and kisses my head. “Good,” he says into my hair.

  ~6~

  David

  As a few weeks pass, Rachel and I settle into a comfortable routine. She’s got a new secretary and seems content enough with things at work. I’m learning her subtle emotional cues that tell me when she might need an extra hug, a spanking, or some alone time. And she’s learning about me, too.

  I originally thought I’d select a specific day every week to give Rachel a spanking. A few of my clients request that. We call it maintenance. But I’ve decided I don’t want Rachel to always know what’s coming. I’m with her enough to know when she needs a paddling, or when she just needs some stern reminders.

  Or, at least, I’m learning. Always learning.

  While I want to avoid the routine of a weekly session, I have fallen in to the pattern of spanking, if only a light one, once every few days. If she’s done something to deserve a punishment—usually through having a negative attitude—I give her a nice warning so she has plenty of time to worry about what will happen. Other times, I’m more spontaneous, just warming her ass before bed or right when she wakes up in the morning.

  If I’m perfectly honest with myself, I know I love spanking her. Tonight, I want to share that love with her. I want to try giving her a light, erotic spanking she’ll enjoy receiving as much as I enjoy giving.

  It’s Saturday, and I’ve talked Ryan into helping Mitchell and me with the ongoing office construction project today. Rachel went into work for the morning, promising to bring home pizza and beer when she’s done. My brothers arrive together, Mitchell freshly showered and shaved and Ryan looking like he just rolled out of bed. He’s holding a Coke in one hand and a gas station burrito in the other.

  “Thanks for coming, guys,” I call as they wander into the backyard. I’m nailing up a long piece of vinyl siding and Mitchell jogs over to help me hold it in place.

  Ryan wanders around the building, then inside. When he reappears he looks impressed.

  “This is like…done. How the hell did you do this so fast?”

  “Many hands make light work. You guys have been a huge help,” I reply. I’m truly grateful.

  “Uh, I’ve been a huge help. Ryan’s been…” Mitchell trails off, grinning at me.

  “Ryan’s helped, too,” I insist. “He’s just busy. With school. And girls.”

  Mitchell nods, ever appreciating my need to keep peace. “Well, my next project is putting together the room for baby Erell.”

  Ryan coughs. “Erell? Seriously?”

  “Just a nickname. Erin and Mitchell combined.”

  “I’m so happy for you guys,” I say. “Anything you need, I’m glad to help. I certainly owe you, after all this.”

  After our work today, I know the office will be ready to use. There are still finishing touches—a few light fixtures I’ve ordered still haven’t arrived, and I need to finish caulking around the wood trim inside. But it’s functional.

  I set Ryan up with touch-up painting, and he begrudgingly gets to work, setting his iPod in my speaker dock. He’s been on a bluegrass kick lately. It’s unfamiliar to me, and I’m enjoying the little surprise that comes with each song.

  I measure, Mitchell cuts, and together we finish siding the north side of the building. He gets to work doing the eave—a good job for him because he’s better at framing than I am—and I grab Ryan to help me move some furniture.

  When Rachel arrives, it’s almost one. Ryan beelines for the pizza and so does Mitchell, after giving Rachel a peck on the cheek. I grab her hand and lead her to the office.

  “Clients. Here. Soon.” I grin at her.

  She stops, her mouth drops, and she throws her arms around me. I squeeze her tight, lifting her off the ground, and spin her around.

  “That’s wonderful,” she says as I put her down. She wipes a tear from her eye and sniffles.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m just…happy. I mean, it’s been okay having you take clients in the house. You’ve been respectful about it. But it was always in the back of my mind…”

  “I know, sweetie. I don’t think I’ve thanked you enough for being so understanding.” I grasp both her hands in mine. “Thank you. Thank you for being amazing.”

  Leading her inside, I give her a little tour. She’s seen the building go up, and she saw the plans, but I’ve never gone through it room by room.

  “Instead of having the pre-session talk in the dining room, we’ll have it here,” I explain, showing her the entry room. There’s a leather couch, two chairs, and a wooden end table with a box of tissues and a vase of dried flowers.. A chocolate brown area rug covers the center of the laminate floor, and I’ve chosen some of my favorite photographs of the North Carolina coast to frame for the walls. “I actually modeled it after other therapists’ offices.”

  “Yeah. It has that feel.” She shifts a little on her feet, looking mildly uncomfortable.

  I stand behind her, pulling her body close to mine. “Remember our first session? You were so nervous.”

  “Who wouldn’t be?”

  “Well, some of my clients enjoy being spanked and know exactly why they’re doing it. You were nervous because it was new to you.”

  I lead her to the main room. It’s a little larger than my current discipline room. I haven’t moved most of the furniture yet, since my brothers might have questions about the spanking bench and the sawhorse. But I cleaned out my implement cabinet, and Ryan and I moved that, my desk, and the daybed today. It’s starting to come together.

  Rachel walks along the wall of the room, her hand running along the freshly painted drywall and her eyes scanning every surface. She takes it in. The bathroom door is open, and she peeks her head inside. There are two doors, one on each end, so if my family or friends come into my office, they can use my bathroom without going through the discipline room.

  She steps inside, flicks on the light, and laughs.

  “Nice paint job,” she says sarcastically.

  I painted the walls and ceiling dark maroon. I think it looks unique, but the reaction from my brothers, and now Rachel, has been disappointing.

  She walks to the desk and trails her fingers along the edge of the smooth surface. I got the desk years ago at a closeout sale from a local furniture craftsman. It’s cherry, and the color has gone from soft tan to deep brownish red. Appropriate, I think, considering its utility.

  I stand behind her and bend her forward, running my hands up and down her torso. I place my hands on hers, and push her until she’s supporting her upper body with her arms, her hands flat on the desk. Then I run my hand back down her body, over her ass, and she moans.

  “Remember how you felt the first time you bent over this desk?”

  She nods. I give her bottom a
light pat, before pulling her up and spinning her to face me. Kissing her deeply, I touch her, all of her, over her clothes. She moves for me, letting me reach between her legs, squeeze her breasts, grasp her ass.

  “You are so beautiful,” I gasp, pulling away.

  She blushes. That same, beautiful blush I’ve seen countless times since I first met her at Maddy’s Place.

  “I’m going to spank you tonight,” I whisper, smiling ever so slightly.

  “What? Why?” Her body language makes the subtle shift from aroused to nervous.

  “And you’ll enjoy it,” I continue, shushing her by placing a finger on her lips. “I promise.”

  “David—“

  “Shh. Do you trust me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.” I kiss her again, turn her around, and give her an actual swat on her ass. She yelps. I walk out, leaving her there. When I glance back I see her turning to face me, her mouth hanging open.

  She is so damn cute.

  “Good work today,” I say as I join my brothers, who are making good progress at polishing off two pizzas by themselves. I snag a slice of pepperoni.

  Ryan opens another beer and I give him a look.

  “No more if you’re planning on driving this afternoon, Ryan.”

  He rolls his eyes and takes a long swig. “All right, Dad.”

  I look back to see Rachel coming out of the office. She’s regained the ability to walk, though she still looks a little stunned.

  She’s quiet while we eat, though that in and of itself isn’t abnormal for her—especially around my brothers, who are known for their constant banter. What is abnormal, however, are her facial expressions. I watch with amusement when she gets caught up in a story Ryan’s telling about his rec volleyball league. I see she’s pushed the spanking to the back of her mind, so I tap her foot with mine and give her a small smile. Her nervousness springs back and she squirms in her seat, trying to focus on Ryan instead of me.

  When the guys have had their fill, Mitchell leaves to check on the restaurant. Ryan sticks around, chatting with Rachel. I know she’s encouraging him in efforts to delay what I’ve got planned, but that’s fine with me. I’m happy she’s getting to know my family.