by Maren Smith
“Excellent—make me one too!” Annie straightens up. “That’s all the goodies. If we’re starting on the drinks now, is it ok if I put my Christmas jumper on?”
“Hell yes! Throw mine over while you’re at it; it’s on top of my bag.”
The snowballs go down a treat—even Felicia smiles—and so we collectively decide to have another. True, the party hasn’t officially started yet, but that doesn’t matter, right? Will and Jason will just have to catch up with us once they get out of their boring meeting.
“I have never tried one of these,” says Felicia, holding up a mini mince pie between her forefinger and thumb and peering at it as though it is some kind of scientific specimen.
“What?” I vaguely notice that my voice has started increasing in volume, the way it tends to do when I’m drunk. “How have you never had a mince pie?”
She shrugs. “We don’t have them in Spain. They are a strange British thing, I think?” She raises her perfect dark eyebrows at each of us in turn.
Annie giggles and leans back in her chair. Her second snowball is pretty much gone and it looks as though she might have spilled some of it down her snowman jumper. “You should eat it, Felicia—go on! Don’t you think so, Mia?”
A small voice of caution tries to warn me that we shouldn’t start eating the party food until the actual party has actually started but that voice is easily overwhelmed by the double whammy of liquor and laughter currently sloshing about in my system. “Yes—eat the mince pie, Felicia! That’s an order!”
“Whoa—abuse of power!” laughs Danny, as Felicia gives another shrug and takes a nibble out of the side of the mince pie.
“You need to take a bigger bite than that or you’ll just get pastry!” I admonish her.
“Yes—take a proper mouthful!” chimes in Annie.
“Swallow it down, girl!” I order, before collapsing in giggles at the realisation of how much I sound like Will.
To be fair to her, Felicia gives the mince pie a good go but it’s obvious enough that she is not enamoured. “It is okay,” she says, dabbing at her perfect lips with a red napkin. “May I try these chocolate stars?”
As Felicia starts on the food, the rest of us take this as our cue to start digging in ourselves. Annie lines up glasses of prosecco mixed with raspberry liqueur and I have got at least three of these pink beauties down me before it hits me that I really am properly drunk now.
Oh, what does it matter? It’s Christmas!
“When are they finishing their meeting?” Annie giggles, filling up my glass with prosecco and then swigging what’s left straight from the bottle.
Have I already mentioned that Annie is awesome?
“I don’t know,” I say, squinting up at the clock. “The party officially started five whole minutes ago. They’re so booooring!” I lean back against the photocopier and accidentally press the ‘on’ button. It fires up behind me and everyone laughs.
“Oops!”
Annie grabs my arm, her eyes bright and shining with intoxication and mischief. “Ooh, ooh! Mia! Have you ever done that thing?”
“What thing?” I ask, taking a deep gulp of my prosecco and closing my eyes for a second as the buzz hits me.
“You know...” She leans forward and nearly bumps heads with me. “Photocopying bits of yourself?”
I burst out laughing and quite a bit of prosecco comes spilling out of my mouth and splatters down the front of my Christmas jumper.
“Oh fuck!” I gasp, still giggling.
“Ah, see, it’s wet now,” says Annie, who appears to be even drunker than I am (which is quite an achievement; I am already seeing double). “Take it off and photocopy your boobs!”
“Where’s she supposed to put her... y’know... her head?” Danny has come staggering over and I begin to suspect that this may have been his first ever experience with spirits. Oops. Felicia is sitting on the edge of one of the desks with her legs crossed looking as immaculate as when she first walked in and observing us all with a small, amused smile. Seriously, that girl is made of stone.
While Annie and Danny drunkenly argue over how I will position myself, I am having a hard time dragging my wet Christmas jumper up and over my head. If only the rest of the room would stay still and stop lurching about, this would be a whole lot easier.
“There’s loads of room for her head,” Annie insists, as I finally succeed in disentangling myself from my jumper and start on the buttons of my shirt. “Loads. How big do you think her head is, young man?!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa—now you’re putting words in my mouth, Annie!”
“Stop fighting, children!” I am several buttons down and begin to cast a blurry-but-discerning glance at the photocopier. “If we keep the thing... the thing... that thing...” I point vigorously.
From the other side of the office, Felicia calls, “I think you mean the lid, Mia.”
“Yes! If we keep the lid up, there’ll definitely be room.”
As I pull open my shirt, revealing my ‘Mrs. Santa’ bra (look, I never claimed to have good taste), I notice Danny staring at me, open-mouthed. But it’s only for a second and then he quickly turns to face the other direction, muttering something that sounds a lot like ‘weirdest work party ever’.
Giggling, I take hold of the edges of the photocopier to steady myself but before I can start leaning forward, Annie grabs my shoulder. “You can’t leave your bra on, Mia—that’s cheating!”
“Um...” I look down at my front and bite my lip.
“Oh, you have rules for this?” asks Felicia, sounding mildly interested.
“If you’re going to do it, you might as well do it properly,” insists Annie, reaching behind her for another bottle of Prosecco.
It just so happens that my bra is one of those cheap, flimsy ones that fastens at the front (it has clearly been designed for novelty value and silliness rather than actual support), and so I could undo it without having to take my shirt off completely. Even in my inebriated state, I don’t like the idea of just standing topless in the middle of the office. As I teeter on the edge of a decision, Annie presses a full bottle of Prosecco into my hand. I take a long swig, stagger sideways giggling, and then I’m reaching for the clasp at the front of my bra. Of course, I should do it properly!
“Atta girl!” laughs Annie, taking the bottle back and swallowing down a good third of the remaining contents.
The too-tight cups of my bra ping open and my boobs burst out, looking a little squished from their time encased in red satin and white faux fur but otherwise ready for duty.
Annie squeals with laughter and covers her eyes. “Quick, quick—before someone sees!”
Once again, I grip the edges of the photocopier and step up close. Arching my back and leaning forward... forward, I don’t stop until my boobs are squashed down onto the cold surface of the copier and my head is tilted right back. The glass is humming slightly in a way that makes my nipples tingle and I can’t stop giggling as I press ‘start’ and the photocopier fires up into life.
My colleagues—even Felicia—whoop and cheer as the office fills with the sound of the photocopier dragging up paper sheets from its innards and spewing them out into the tray beneath me.
I am laughing so hard that at first I think it is Annie’s hand on my shoulder. It is only when I am pulled firmly to my feet and look down that I realise it is a man’s hands that are now hastily pulling the sides of my shirt together.
“Do up the buttons,” mutters Will in my ear. “Right now, young lady.”
I gasp in horror and clap my hands over my mouth, temporarily incapable of obeying his instruction.
Then I collapse into giggles, sinking down into a sitting position on the floor and drawing up my knees to cover my modesty. Well, what is left of my modesty, at least.
Annie is beside herself, as is Danny. Felicia is still watching us with mild amusement but Will... Oh shit, Will. He and Jason look sober, shocked and not at all amused.
Fuck.
Before I can do anything more than giggle incoherently, Will reaches into the photocopier tray and pulls out the sheets of paper.
“Oh!” I make a move to snatch them away from him but Will simply steps back and gives me a warning look.
“Hmm,” he says, casting a brief look at the top sheet before folding them all up and stuffing them into his jacket pocket. “So you guys decided to start the party without us, did you?”
“You are late,” Felicia points out helpfully, gesturing at the clock on the wall. “Would you like some chocolate Christmas stars? They are quite delicious.”
God, I love Felicia. I want her in every awkward situation with me from now on.
Jason is looking from me to Will and back again with an expression that seems half amused, half apprehensive. “Um, sure. Thanks,” he replies, taking the chocolate star that Felicia is holding out for him.
“And...and have some Prosecco. That’s very nice too.” Annie’s eyes are streaked with tears of laughter, but she seems to be trying her best to hold it together.
Will raises his eyebrows at that. “I’m surprised there’s any left.”
As Annie launches into a drunken explanation of how she ordered loads, I take the opportunity to fumble with my bra clasp and shirt buttons behind the shield of my bent knees. My eyes don’t want to focus and my fingers are all over the place but I give it my best shot. The result, if not exactly perfect, is certainly respectable enough to allow me to climb unsteadily to my feet.
“Back with us, are you?” says Will, unsmiling, and I realise in that one look that I am in so much trouble.
“Aren’t you going to have any food?” I give Will the sweetest and most oblivious smile I am able to muster under the present circumstances but he’s having none of it.
“I might have some afterwards.”
Afterwards?
But there is no time to ask because now he has me by the arm and he is walking me toward his office. Surely... surely, he wouldn’t punish me here?
“Jason, are you ok to just join us quickly?” he calls over.
Jason pauses in the act of choosing a mini mince pie and gives Will a serious nod.
And I watch, open-mouthed, as the fucking HR Manager follows us into the privacy of my seriously pissed-off Dom’s office.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“ARE YOU GOING TO FIRE me?” The words come out the second Jason closes the office door behind him.
“Sit down,” orders Will, pulling out a chair and giving me a look so stern that my belly flips in fear and excitement, even through the blurry fog of drunkenness.
“That isn’t an answer,” I protest.
Will grabs me by the shoulders and sits me down forcibly in the chair. My bottom smacks down hard onto the seat. I am so shocked that he would do that in front of one of our colleagues that for a moment I can’t speak at all.
“Sometimes she needs a physical reminder of our dynamic,” Will explains to Jason in a neutral, matter-of-fact voice. “Just let me know if anything is making you feel uncomfortable, ok?”
“Sure.” Jason nods and gives me a brief smile which I think is meant to be reassuring but I am about as far from being reassured as I ever have been in my entire life.
“You told him?!” My voice comes out as half-whisper, half-scream and I glare up at Will in total outrage, my heart pounding and my face flooding with heat.
“Yes, I did.” Will goes and sits down in a chair on the opposite side of the table like no further explanation is required.
I can’t seem to do much more than blink and shake my head at him. Dammit, I need to be sober for this conversation! This is so completely not ok.
Jason leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, his expression kind but firm. “Mia, I know you aren’t going to want to hear this, especially right now, but exposing yourself at work is a major breach of professionalism and, under our HR policy, this is categorised as serious misconduct.”
“So you are going to fire me then?”
“Don’t interrupt, young lady,” warns Will.
“But...”
“According to our policy,” Jason ploughs on, “The next step is a disciplinary meeting where we discuss where we go from here.” He holds out his hands and indicates the meeting table. “And this—I believe—is what Will is initiating now.”
Will nods. His arms are folded and he’s looking over at me with such a severe expression that my belly clenches up hard. But there is real fear now, mixed in with the fun kind. Could one evening of drunken silliness cost me my job? Sure, Will is the Managing Director but our policies apply to everyone.
“Can’t we have this meeting when I’m not drunk?”
“We’re having it now,” says Will, and his tone allows no opposition. “Jason, what are the options?”
Jason clears his throat. “Well, the most serious consequence would be summary dismissal but, in view of what we discussed earlier, and as this is a first offence, I would advise a more lenient approach.”
“Such as?”
“A formal written warning, which will remain on file. Closer supervision for the foreseeable future with regular review meetings. Coupled with your, um, outside arrangements, I’m sure this would be sufficient.”
I don’t need to ask what he means by ‘outside arrangements’. It has been clear enough since the moment Will caught me in the act of photocopying my boobs that my bottom would not be getting out of this unscathed.
“Agreed,” says Will. “I will move Mia’s workstation into this office so that I can keep her under closer supervision, and if you could ask Felicia to arrange monthly review meetings between the three of us for next year, that would be great.”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll get the warning letter drafted and sent to you for your signature first thing next week.” Jason stands up and pauses. “Do you, um, want me to bring the party to a close?”
Will shakes his head. “Physical punishment only ever happens at home, you don’t need to worry on that score. Go enjoy the party. Ask Felicia to lock up afterwards; she still seems to have her wits about her. Seriously, it’s fine,” he adds as Jason looks like he might protest. “I’ve got this.”
As Jason leaves, I sink forward, fold my arms on the table and bury my face in them. Jason knows. I am going to receive a written warning for the first time in my career. Will is really, really cross with me. Ugh, I’m too drunk to process any of this.
Will lets me wallow for a minute or two before speaking. “Right, little girl, I’m taking you home, and you’re going straight to bed when we get there. Understand?”
“Yes Sir,” I whimper into my arms.
“Sit up.”
I obey, groaning as I’m hit by a rush of nausea. “Oh, Sir, I don’t feel well.”
“I’m not surprised,” he replies, without even a hint of sympathy. “Here, drink this.” He passes me a plastic cup of water from his desk. It’s obviously been sitting around for a while but that’s the least of my worries and I take little sips until all the water is gone.
I place the empty cup on the table. “Why did you tell him?” I whisper, looking down at my hands.
I half expect him to scold me for even asking, but he doesn’t, and when he replies, his voice is soft. “Our work dynamic and our relationship dynamic weren’t working together, so I asked Jason’s advice on where the law stands on these things. As this is my company, it turns out a lot of it is down to my discretion. We worked out between us how we could make it work in a way that was legal and above board, and he’s going to adapt our policies accordingly.” Will takes hold of my hand and squeezes it. “I don’t want you to have to pretend to be vanilla either, princess.”
My eyes fill with tears. So Will was in here trying to make things better for me and I was out in the office openly disobeying him? “Oh Sir, I’m sorry,” I wail, trying to cover my face with my hands.
“Hey, hey,” he says, keeping a firm grip on my hand and pulling me sidewa
ys into a hug. “Shush, sweetie, shush; it will all be sorted out tomorrow. And you can show me how sorry you are by taking your punishment like a good girl.”
I swallow and bury my face in his shoulder. I don’t have to ask what the punishment will be. Will told me what the punishment would be if I behaved unprofessionally at work again and he always keeps his promises.
“Come on, little girl,” he says, drawing me to my feet. “Time to go home.”
WHEN I WAKE UP, I’M naked and alone in our bed.
“Sir?”
My voice comes out as a dry croak and I wince. Oh, God, I’m so thirsty!
Thankfully I soon discover a fresh glass of water on my bedside cabinet and I gulp it down in several long swallows.
Oh, my head! Oh, fuck! Why, why, why did I drink so much? I groan and hold my throbbing head in my hands.
“Stand up.”
I jump and lower my hands. Will is standing in the doorway wearing nothing but his grey pyjama trousers, his expression calm but stern.
His has a black leather belt doubled over in his hands.
My belly lurches and I scramble across the bed in alarm. “I’ve only just woken up!”
“Are you disobeying me, young lady?”
I shake my head and immediately regret it, as the throbbing doubles in intensity. “Please, please, Sir... can I at least go to the bathroom first?”
He glares at me hard for a moment and then inclines his head. “Make it quick.”
I scurry naked past him and lock myself in the temporary sanctuary of the bathroom. Everything is too bright; the shiny bathroom tiles, the white sink, the winter sunlight streaming in through the obscured glass window. Oh no, oh no, how am I going to be able to cope with a hard punishment spanking when I feel this rough?
By the time I creep back into the bedroom, Will has everything ready. There are two pillows piled in the centre of the bed and there are wrist cuffs waiting for me on the quilt.
Next to the belt.
I swallow.