Lessons in Love

by Kathryn R. Blake

  "Rob? Where are you calling from?"

  "The hotel. Paul's on my cell phone. What plans did you make for tonight, Pam?"

  "No plans. Boy, talk about limited leeway. Are you intending on having me watched next, or what?"

  "I don't care for your attitude, Miss Weston, so I suggest you tone it down a notch. Where are you going that you don't need Paul to drive you?"

  "I don't need Paul to drive me, because I'm not leaving."

  "Excuse me?"

  "I'm going to stay here."

  "The hell you are, young lady. I didn't give you that much work to do. Why are you thinking of staying overnight?"

  "It's got nothing to do with the work. Did you realize you left a shirt hanging in the bathroom? The blue one with the white collar?"

  "What do my shirts have to do with…." He paused, then added more softly, "What else did you discover?"

  "Just about everything I'd need to camp out here for a week."

  "I'm not sure spending the night is a good idea, kitten."

  "Not to put too fine a point on it, sir, but I wasn't asking your permission."

  "Since it's my office, I'd say you do need my permission."

  "Do I?"

  "I don't think it's healthy, Pam. You need to separate work from pleasure…. Okay, that didn't come out right. Let me think about this, and I'll call you back in a bit."

  "I think I'll sleep better in your office than I will at my apartment tonight."

  "Why? Is something wrong?"

  "No. Not wrong exactly."

  "I understand. I miss you, too, kitten, but even though my couch may look comfortable, trust me, in its case, appearances are deceiving. I'll phone you back shortly."

  "Fine."

  "Excuse me?"

  "I shall await your call, sir. Thank you for your consideration."

  "Better. Bye."

  "Bye." She hung up then, but was careful not to slam down the receiver. Okay, it was his office, and perhaps she should have broached her decision to him first, but it wasn't like she intended to throw an orgy. All she wanted to do was…. She put her head down on her desk and wondered if she wasn't making one of the worst mistakes of her life.

  As Krista was leaving she stopped for a moment at Pam's cubicle. "How long are you going to be here? It's after five, and I thought Rob had someone picking you up on the hour?"

  "I called to cancel my pickup," Pam answered with a smile, but Krista didn't return it. If anything, she looked even graver.

  "Does Rob know?'

  "Is there anything that man doesn't know about what I'm doing? I swear he's got a camera on me."

  Krista smiled. "He doesn't, but I'm glad he's keeping tabs while he's gone. I'll let you work it out with him, then."

  "Thanks," Pam replied with a wry grin.

  Fifteen minutes later, Pam's cell phone rang. "Hi."

  "You may sleep in my office tonight on two conditions."

  "Yeah, I guess 'hi' was a little too chatty for you, wasn't it?"

  "I'm not happy with you at present, Pamela, so you might want to cut back on the sarcasm."

  The sharpness of his tone hit Pam like a slap, so she reacted defensively. "Yes, sir. May I ask what your conditions are, sir?"

  He was silent for a moment, then murmured in a low, soft voice. "If I were there right now, Miss Weston, you'd be spending time bent over my desk learning what a paddling is. Clicking your heels and saluting me with 'sirs' is simply a more polite form of saluting me with your finger. Last warning. Tone it down."

  "Sorry," she murmured, though a part of her still resented being treated like a child.

  "First condition. You order dinner. Do you like Chinese food?"

  "Sometimes."

  "There's a good restaurant I frequent nearby. I opened an account with them, so all you need to do is tell them it's for me and you want it delivered to the office. David knows them and will let them right through. You'll find one of their brochures in my top right-hand drawer. Make your choice and call them. I'll wait."

  "Now? You want me to place an order for dinner right now?"

  "Yes, I do. I understand your sentiments regarding waste, so I'm fairly well assured you'll eat whatever you request. Just keep your cell phone nearby as you call."

  Right. With cell phone clutched in hand, she walked into his office and opened his drawer. A brochure for The China Palace sat right on top. Carrying the shiny, folded paper back to her desk, she leafed through it. Chicken and rice was about as fancy as she wanted to get. Making her selection, she phoned in her order. The gentleman she spoke with assured her the food would arrive within twenty minutes. When she hung up with the palace, she picked up her cell again.

  "Good choice," he advised, sounding a little smugger than she liked. "All right, for my second condition. I want you in bed, lights out and TV off by eleven."

  "Why? Since I normally don't go to bed so early, I won't be able to sleep."

  "You'll sleep. I'm going to ask David to check and make sure you're following my instructions, but I'll call about that time as well. The couch can be extended into a twin bed. David will help you set it up."

  "Sounds like you've done this a few times yourself, sir."

  "Many more nights than I should admit, I'm sure, which is why I'm opposed to you doing it as well."

  "But I'm not staying because I'm working late."

  "I realize that, which is the only reason I'm letting you stay. Go ahead and wear my shirt if you want, I figure you will anyway."

  She smiled. "Maybe we can talk about what I'm wearing, when you call."

  "You are definitely a brat, Miss Weston."

  "And did you order room service, Mr. Peterson?"

  He let out a small choked laugh. "Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. I decided on steak."

  "Sounds fitting. I look forward to chatting with you again."

  "As do I, Miss Weston. As do I. Get comfortable, relax, and enjoy your dinner. I'll phone again in a bit."

  Her meal arrived shortly after they hung up, and David stuck his nose in fifteen minutes later. He showed her how the couch extended into a bed and even helped her make it up with the sheets, blankets, and pillows kept in a hidden drawer.

  "I'm surprised Mr. Peterson let you stay, Miss Weston. He didn't sound pleased when I spoke with him."

  "I don't think he was pleased, but he's accepted that at least you're here to keep watch over me."

  The elderly man blushed a little as he admitted, "He mentioned giving you an 11:00 p.m. curfew. I'll be by to check in, but if you still want to stay up, I won't say anything."

  She laughed. If Rob knew she'd made a convert out of David, he wouldn't be pleased at all.

  After the bed was made, Pam showered and changed. It was early still. Not quite 6:00 p.m., but she wanted to be able to relax in Rob's shirt. She could have taken it home with her, but she liked the thought of being where he spent most of his time. Problem was, she was falling hard for the man, irritating as he was, but doubted his feelings for her were anywhere near as strong.

  Curling up on her "bed," she switched on the TV and watched a sitcom as she munched on a small plate of moo goo gai pan and fried rice. It was quite decadent.

  When the eleven o'clock news came on, she sighed and turned off the television. David came by shortly afterward to check on her; she'd left the office door open.

  "You okay?"

  She remained sitting sideways on her made-up bed. "Yes. Just getting ready to settle in for the night. Everything quiet at your end?"

  "A regular ghost town. Sleep well." Giving her a wave he continued on his rounds.

  Pam's cell phone rang a few minutes later. Smiling, she answered, "Pam's Emporium of Delight. How may I serve you?"

  A chuckle. "I do hope you checked to see who was calling first."

  "Yes, I checked, even though I suspected it was you. I'm thinking of changing your ringtone. I need to find something appropriate like "Tubular Bells."

  "The the
me from The Exorcist? Cute."

  "I'm impressed. I wouldn't peg you as a horror fan."

  "My interests are eclectic. Are you ready for bed?"

  "Yes, sir. I have my undies washed and drying in the shower, my boss's shirt on as a nightie, the TV off, and I'm all set to crawl between the covers."

  He groaned. "You are a wicked woman, Pamela Weston."

  She fluttered her eyes. "Why? Whatever would make you say such a thing, Mr. Peterson?"

  "Go get your journal," he muttered huskily.

  "I was only teasing you."

  "I'm fully aware of that. Get it anyway. I will not request a third time."

  With a huff, she laid her phone down, scooted off the couch, and padded to her desk. Unsure which booklet he wanted, she grabbed them both and trotted back into his office.

  "All right, I have them. What did you want to know?"

  "Let's go over your infractions for the day, shall we?"

  She stuck her tongue out at him but did as he asked.

  "Read them aloud to me."

  "Fine. Crime: told the boss, his ideas are crapola. Date: Wednesday the 11th. Time: 9:30 a.m. Reason: Because they are. Infraction: Lack of respect for the boss."

  He made a non-committal noise that sounded suspiciously like a choked laugh. "Though you are following the rules, I don't think you've quite captured the spirit of the exercise, yet."

  "Well, the instructions were kind of vague."

  "Vague? Shall I be more explicit?"

  "No thanks. Should I read the next one?"

  "No. I want you to add a note to this infraction first."

  "Pen is ready, sir. What would you like me to write?"

  "Three swats." His voice sounded deadly serious.

  "What? That's ridiculous. You were scheduling me to waste time getting more clothes, and my hair and nails done, when I should be working."

  "You're right. Make it six swats."

  "Rob!"

  "I suggest you pen the number in quickly, or I'll make it twelve."

  "Yes, sir," she snapped and wrote down, Six swats, totally uncalled for and unfair.

  "As we are discussing your crime and punishments, I'll advise you to adopt a better mindset, young lady. A poor attitude is a cry for discipline I will most eagerly provide. Understand?"

  "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

  "Go ahead."

  "This sucks…. Sir."

  "I will give you an opportunity to work your swats down later, should you choose that route instead. Anything else?"

  "Yeah. If you're supposed to be relaxing me, you're doing a lousy job of it."

  "Point taken."

  Pam swiped at her tears. It was stupid to cry. He wasn't hurting her. In fact, they'd started out teasing each other, and yet, she knew her attitude disappointed him."

  "Pam?"

  "What?" Her voice nearly broke on the one word, so she omitted the honorific he preferred. Would he come down on her for that, too?

  He waited, saying nothing for a moment. "I'm not angry or upset with you. I'm merely making the point that actions carry consequences. I understood the reasons you said what you did this morning, and it didn't provoke me. I did view your words as a bit disrespectful, but not in a way I'd ever punish you for. You're free to say and think what you feel. If you'd asked me, I wouldn't have even suggested you enter that infraction in your journal. But you did, and you did it in a way that was more discourteous than your actual act. That tells me you're struggling with guilt over it. And, the guilt you're dealing with can't be assuaged with a simple 'that's okay.' You won't accept forgiveness because, in your mind, it's not okay. You realize you were out of line being impertinent to me, so you are much angrier with yourself than I ever was with you. Do you understand?"

  "I don't know. I feel like crying and throwing things."

  "Good. I'm honored you're comfortable enough with me to admit you're anxious. Acknowledging negative feelings isn't easy for you. So, tell me why you feel that way."

  "I'm not sure."

  "All right. Let's take the scenario through to its natural conclusion. What do you think I would do if you went around screaming and breaking things?"

  "Nothing. You're not here."

  "True. I'm not. But what if I were?"

  "Then I wouldn't be this agitated."

  "Why not?"

  "Because you wouldn't let me. You would pull me onto your lap and talk to me way before I ever got to this point."

  "Yes, I would. Just as I am talking to you now."

  "It's not the same. Sorry. I'm being an unreasonable brat. So, why don't you hang up and call me tomorrow when I'll be in a much better frame of mind."

  "What makes you say that?"

  "I'm tired and cranky. After I sleep, I'll feel more like my usual chipper self."

  "Okay. Let's do this. Close your journal and get under the covers then put the phone to your ear."

  Pam swiped at her tears and did as he suggested, certain it wouldn't work. When she was ready to talk again, she picked up her phone. "I'm lying down. Now what?"

  "Good. I want you to envision me stretched out beside you. Face-to-face. I'm slowly stroking your hair. Shut your eyes and try to imagine my fingers as they separate and flow through the silken strands with gentle caresses."

  "It's not the same," she repeated, her frustration mounting. "Just go back to whatever you were doing and—"

  "Pam, that's enough!" His voice was sharp with anger, and she flinched.

  "Sorry," she murmured.

  "I'm not focusing on you because I think you're broken and in need of fixing."

  "Yes, you are."

  "No. I. Am. Not. I'm here because I enjoy spending time with you. You're smart, beautiful, witty, and vulnerable, and a part of me reacts positively to each part of you. There is nothing more I would rather do than spend time with you. And, if I were there with you, I would be doing my best to convince you to make love with me."

  Her throat tight with emotion, she whispered, "You would?"

  "I most definitely would. So, regard this as a reprieve during which you can consider just how involved you want to get with me because, when I return, you and I will be taking this relationship up a notch—if you're willing."

  "So, how many notches are on your bedpost already, sir?"

  "You'd get a swat for that comment, young lady."

  "I'm serious. Do you sleep with all your admins?"

  He'd hesitated for so long, she thought he wouldn't answer when he said, "No. You'd be the first."

  She scoffed. "Yeah, right."

  "Tomorrow, I want you to add this infraction to your journal. I don't have sex with my administrative assistants, Pam. It can lead to too many misunderstandings and make it bad for business."

  "So, why do you go through them so quickly?"

  "They needed things I couldn't or wasn't disposed to provide, or I sought more control than they were ready to give. Each one ended for a different reason, but the partings were all amicable for the most part, except for Caroline."

  "What happened with her?"

  "No. I don't want to get into this conversation over the phone. If you want to talk about Caroline when I get back, I'll consider it. There are some legal issues involved with her, so I need to be careful what I say."

  "Oh. So, you're saying you never slept with any of your other admins, but you'd make an exception for me?"

  "Yes."

  "Why? Don't I pose the same risks as the others?"

  "Yes, you do. But I want more from you, so I'm willing to take the risk. If the new dynamics don't work as well for us, we'll adjust. These rules aren't etched in ink."

  "I'm not so sure. Sometimes, when we talk, I think you've got them all scribbled down in a little notebook somewhere."

  He chuckled. "Nope. Still want to scream and throw things?"

  She laughed. "Nope," then admitted softly, "Though I still wish you were here."

  "So do I, kitten. So do I."


  "Why do you call me kitten?"

  Pam imagined him grinning at her question. "Because, when you get angry, I can practically see the fur ruffling at your neck as you hiss at me. And, when you're content, you let out a little purring sound."

  She huffed. "I do not."

  "Yes. You do. And I love to hear it. Though you initially resist me every time I pull you onto my lap, you enjoy being held, and you'll snuggle if I keep you there long enough."

  "Actually, I don't enjoy being held, which is why I resist. However, when you persist in holding me close, I find I do like it. But only with you. If anyone else tried to restrain me against my will, he would end up getting, slapped, bitten, or scratched."

  "Ah. A true kitten attack."

  "Yeah, maybe, but even kittens can draw blood."

  "Yes. Feral, vicious kittens will fight to be free. But, I don't think you're feral or vicious."

  "I'm barely housebroken."

  "I wouldn't say you're tame exactly. Not yet. Not even to my hand. Still, you're accepting food from my fingers without biting them, and you're tolerating my shows of affection."

  Grinning, she murmured, "Oh, I'm more than tolerating those."

  "So, you enjoy my kisses a little, perhaps?"

  "Now who's playing games? I love it when you stroke and kiss me, and you know it."

  "Let's say I had a strong suspicion, but I thank you for verifying it. Are you sleepy at all?"

  "A little. Talking helps."

  "Good. Okay, close your eyes and listen. It's all right for you to fall asleep, but I want you to stay quiet. When I hang up, your phone will disconnect on its own."

  "May I ask questions?"

  "No, you may not. I'm going to read, so your job is to listen."

  "What are you reading?"

  "Not important. I could just recite the phone book, but I've brought a novel with me, so I'll share a bit of it with you."

  "Okay," she murmured on a yawn.

  "Good." Rob read "I am the shade. Through the dolent city, I flee. Through the eternal woe, I take flight," in a low, somnolent tone that soon had Pam drifting away.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A sharp, insistent buzzing pierced its way into Pam's dream. Her phone alarm. Six thirty. Rob was right; the couch wasn't as comfortable as it appeared. Her back ached something fierce. Rolling into a sitting position, she eased to her feet and started stripping the bed. Once she got the room back to its normal, pristine shape, she headed into the shower and emerged feeling a lot more human.