My Naughty Little Secret

by Finnegan, Tara

  “Fuck, me too, I don’t know what to say. In one way I feel like some kind of horrible woman beater, but in another I feel on top of the world. Like the king of the jungle.”

  “Would you do it again if you got the chance?” I asked with genuine interest, not so much to see if we would have another date, but to see if he really liked it.

  “Damn right I would, but I don’t know if I should, it seems wrong.”

  “Was it wrong if I loved it and had asked you to do it?” I reasoned.

  We went round in circles debating the good and the bad, but we didn’t discuss whether we would go out again or where we stood. Finally I said it was time for him to go: I had things to do that evening. He wanted to stay, but I really needed him gone. I had a lot to figure out. He pressed me to see him again the following night, but to me it seemed to be too much, too soon.

  “Next weekend. I thought you said you weren’t a stalker.”

  “Yeah, and you said you were innocent. Wednesday, and that’s my final offer.”

  “Fine, but tomorrow at work, none of this ever happened, right?”

  “Shiv, I don’t want to be pedantic, but it did happen. And I don’t want to pretend it didn’t.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s my final offer, if you want to meet up on Wednesday, then we keep it quiet.”

  “What about the spanking? Do you want to do that again?” he asked.

  “Can we think about it and talk about it later? I have to process it in myself first.”

  It seemed a fair enough request; it was after all only one date, albeit a startlingly eventful one. He seemed happy to drop the subject for now. Michael was dressed first and went down to say hi to the girls, closely followed by me.

  “One housemate returned safe and sound, sign here please, ladies.” I heard him say as I came down the stairs.

  “Not ‘til I make sure the goods aren’t damaged,” I heard Claire reply with the typical Irish caustic sense of humour. As I came in, she looked at me.

  “Humph, they might not be damaged, but I doubt they’re intact,” she commented at my flushed expression, hastening Michael’s exit. I guess he just wasn’t used to the Irish forthright wit. She giggled at his sudden departure. I went to the door with him.

  “Go easy on me, I want to be able to call again,” he said as he kissed me goodbye.

  “Whad’ya mean?”

  “I mean with the girls. I don’t want them meeting me with the sweeping brush the next time I call. You’re not going to tell them about the spanking, are you?”

  “Dunno, I s’pose it depends on how much wine I have,” I said honestly. “See you tomorrow, and I mean it, back off at work.”

  “Ok. Ok. Tomorrow…” And with that he was gone.

  As per usual, we all spent the next couple of hours organising ourselves for the following week, ironing work clothes, etc. Then it was time for wine, music, and cards, our normal Sunday night ritual. We put The Eagles into the CD player, popped the cork, dealt the cards, and discussed our weekends. Tara was first up. She had scored at the club and that was why she was missing in action all weekend. A lad called Dave whom she had no intention of ever seeing again.

  Claire was next; it had been a normal weekend for her: an Indian takeaway followed by a couple of drinks before closing time in Pete’s local, joined by some of his football mates.

  My turn. How much to reveal and how much to conceal was the big question. So far we’d only had one glass of wine, so I was cautious. I told them about the meal, theatre, and going for lunch. I wasn’t ready to disclose the details of the row or the aftermath yet. They both expressed envy at Michael’s gentlemanly behaviour. Hah, if only they knew. That envy could be so easily overturned or intensified, depending on their preferences. I kind of knew deep down that for all her experience and bravado, Tara would be horrified at me; she just wouldn’t do submissive. Dominatrix, maybe, but not sub! Claire, for all her sense and cautiousness, was likely to be more open-minded.

  We always played this daft game where we started at one hundred and one, and lost points based on the cards we held in our hand at the end of the night. A good game lasted for a full bottle of wine. If we decided to play again, it was easy to go through the second bottle.

  After the first game Tara said she was knackered from the weekend’s activities and went to bed. Claire and I played on. The Eagles were on repeat and we were singing along to “Lyin’ Eyes” and “Take It To The Limit.” Needless to say, “Desperado” got an extra loud refrain. By the time we were halfway through the second bottle, Claire asked:

  “So, you seeing him again?”

  “Wednesday night, if he behaves at work,” I admitted.

  “Look, tell me to mind my own business, but you’ve been doing nothing except givin’ out about him since you met him. So what’s the fascination?”

  Hell, she’d really got me there. I hadn’t a clue what the fascination was, but it was undeniable. And of course she was right; there wasn’t a day when I didn’t come home from work complaining, or as we Irish put it, “giving out” about him.

  “I don’t honestly know. Maybe it’s because he’s a real man. Y’know, the stereotypical Alpha male,” I offered. Shit, too much wine, definitely!

  “No, I don’t know, Shiv. All I know is you’re different since you met him and I can’t decide if it’s good or bad. So, are you ready to tell me yet or do I have to wait ‘til it all falls apart and I have to pick up the pieces?” Obviously too much wine for her too! Claire would never normally be so blunt or interfering.

  “Fuck it, Claire, he’s fit for me, there’ll be none of the sneaking around Brian used to do because he hadn’t the courage to be straight.”

  “Brian snuck around because he was a worm, not because he was scared of you. And what makes you think Michael is fit for you, as you say?”

  “Coz we had a massive row today and he spanked me,” I blurted out.

  Claire spat her mouthful of wine across the table; red droplets stained the deck of cards and the cream tablecloth. You could safely say I had her attention.

  “What the fuck…and you let him…are you NUTS? The bastard, you should call the cops.”

  “There’ll be no calling the cops, Claire, I asked him to do it. And I’m glad I did, it was hot as hell,” I told her defiantly.

  “Shit, and you’re going out with him again? What’s wrong with you, woman?” she shouted.

  Well, it was obvious she didn’t approve of my little “sexcapade,” but I really didn’t care. I’d been thinking about it since Michael left and I didn’t regret it in the least. In fact, I was pretty sure I’d like to try it again, if he was willing. I wondered if I’d be able to find anything about it on Google. I called a halt to the cards and went to bed. I’d had enough excitement for one day. My behind was still on fire and my nether regions still sensitive. I was beginning to wish I hadn’t sent him home because I was horny as hell.

  * * *

  My phone was ringing just as I reached my desk the next morning. Blimey, it was only ten to nine; who was looking for me this early?

  “Hi, it’s me, I missed you last night,” Michael crooned. “Are you free for lunch?” I was pretty annoyed. So much for being discreet.

  “Hi, Michael, you‘re stalking, it’s your official warning—ring a bloody shrink, I’ve only just taken my jacket off and already you’re harassing me.”

  “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I just want to see you. I want to make sure we’re ok.”

  “We’re ok? When did it become we?” I asked, “We’ve had one weekend together.”

  “Yeah, but what a weekend, and I’d like it to be we.” I could picture the grin I heard in his voice. “By the way, are you sitting ok?”

  “Right, that’s it, hang up that fucking phone now. I’m not having this conversation with you at work,” I said crossly. Incidentally, I could still feel a tingling in my buttocks, not quite sore, but tender. Michael’s tone changed abruptly.

 
“Siobhan, I’m not going to tell you again, I really don’t like you swearing at me like that,” he warned, and I got that feeling down in the pit of my stomach. I really didn’t know why he made me feel like that.

  “Why, what are you going to do about it?” I challenged.

  “Right now, I’d like to get you into my office and lean you across the desk and spank you ‘til you beg for mercy. It’s bad enough swearing, but now you’re deliberately goading me. Don’t push it.”

  Crikey, he was serious. Mid-morning, I was called to reception and was stunned to collect a large basket of deep pink roses—I hadn’t even thrown out the last flowers yet. At this rate, my house was going to be like a florist shop. The card read: “These are the colour I like to see on your cheeks.”

  “Fuck him,” I thought, laughing. I knew too well which cheeks he was talking about and I remembered his threat. On the way back to the office, I bumped into James and Michael, arguing again.

  James stopped to admire the flowers. “What’s the occasion?” he asked curiously.

  “Oh, just some half-mad stalker,” I answered, glowering at Michael, who had the audacity to laugh. That man had a nerve of steel. James looked at Michael fleetingly as he laughed and for a brief moment I worried that he was aware of the undercurrent, but it was so momentary that I probably imagined it. He hardly knew Michael well enough to catch such subtle nuances.

  When I went up to lunch, surprise, surprise, the resident stalker was in the canteen. Damn him, could he not go back to being an antisocial pig? Again he indicated the empty chair and I plonked ungraciously into it.

  “This is so discreet, Michael,” I remarked with as much sarcasm as I could. “So were the flowers. I s’pose I’m meant to thank you?”

  “Aw, relax, Siobhan, haven’t we sat together before? What’s the big deal? Who knows where the flowers came from? And yes, I believe it’s customary to say thanks. Anyway, there’s something I wanted to say to you.”

  “Oohh, goodie, I can hardly wait, and that is?” I scathed.

  “You need to remind D-James of your name every time you meet him; he keeps calling you Shove-up.”

  “Oh, no,” I cringed, “I thought Shove-on would make it easy…”

  “Oh, yeah, too easy,” he teased. “I told him I had something I’d like to shove up…”

  “MICHAEL,” I shouted. Others in the canteen looked around.

  He was laughing. “Christ, Siobhan, relax, it was a joke.” It didn’t feel much like a joke; my face was boiling and even the tips of my ears felt sunburnt. I wanted to punch him at that moment.

  “Whoa, temper, temper,” he teased, making my green eyes blaze even more. I was beginning to think I liked disapproving Michael way more than admiring Michael. How the hell did I get myself into this mess?

  “I told you yesterday, I don’t want anyone at work knowing my business. If you don’t like it, you’ll have to find someone else to play with.”

  “I’m not playing anything. This is real, whether you like it or not,” he snapped.

  “Now who is being touchy?” I retaliated. I was delighted that I had sent his playful persona running for the hills. It was too imprudent.

  I left the table in annoyance. Was it really too much to ask for a bit of discretion? I wanted to roar at him that it’d only been one date, that I had no idea how I felt about him and I really didn’t want to play the whole relationship out in full view of the entire Banbury staff—if you could even call it a relationship. How many of them would be waiting to see me fall flat on my face? He followed me down to the office and shut the door behind him.

  “Good God, you’re one hot-headed woman,” he thundered. “Don’t walk off on me like that again. I was just trying to explain that I think something good is starting here. I can see I’m going to have to spank some of that temper out of you.”

  “How dare you…” I started when I heard the door opening.

  James was looking for Myra. He took one long look at both of us and asked me if everything was ok. Great, now Michael has brought it to his attention too. I was getting more vexed by the second. Things were definitely not going according to plan.

  “Just go away, Michael. Right now I don’t ever want to go out with you again. I asked for one thing, privacy, and already it seems the whole damn store is looking on. Just forget about it, all of it,” I spat.

  Chapter Seven

  It was one hell of a long afternoon. Why did I have to lose my temper? Now I had called off the date and I couldn’t back down. It seemed that was that. And he was right; there was something different about this. Damn him, damn work, and damn my hot head. I kept my head down for the afternoon and tried, quite unsuccessfully, to concentrate on the job at hand. I was running the month-end payroll and really had to focus. Every time my extension rang with the updates to the timesheets, my heart leapt. I was hoping it would be him. But why should he ring? I’d just given him his marching orders. I could just pick up the telephone myself, but that would mean admitting I was wrong, and even worse, admitting that he had gotten to me.

  The minute five-thirty came round, I was out that door as fast as my legs could carry me. And the worst thing was there would be no sympathy from Claire; she had already made it clear that she thought I was off my rocker. And Tara just didn’t do sympathy—men were chew toys to her. The tube journey was hell on wheels. People were crammed up against me pushing and shoving. I was tense and irate. I needed to go for a swim or a workout or something before I flipped my lid. The aqua-aerobics, I decided; water always calmed me.

  As I got my things out of my locker after the class, I saw three missed calls from Michael’s number and the first thing I felt was relief. At least he had tried to contact me. I dressed as quickly as I could and listened to my voicemails. The first two were pleasant, asking me to return his call. The third was more irate.

  “This is getting ridiculous, ring me!”

  “Jeez, can a girl not go for a swim in peace?” I greeted him as he answered his phone.

  “Shiv! Hi, I thought you were ignoring my calls.” The relief in his voice was evident.

  “I’m sorry, I was a bit unreasonable,” I volunteered. What? Did I just apologise to a man? Uh oh, that was a really bad precedence to be setting. I had to regain my standing urgently. “But I warned you I didn’t want anyone to know, and you just wouldn’t listen.” I accused. Phew, good recovery; he was back in the wrong.

  “Crumbs, yesterday I was shocked that I spanked you, now I can’t help but feel if ever there was a woman in need of a damn good spanking, it’s you. Are you always like this? I’ll have my work cut out for me.”

  That was the second time today he threatened to spank me and yet again, I was getting hot and aroused at the thought of it. I liked the no-nonsense tone; it sent shivers down my spine. I knew I was going to back down about Wednesday. He anticipated me:

  “As it happens, I can’t make Wednesday, I forgot I have a prior commitment.”

  Disappointment struck me like a thunderbolt. “Oh, ok.” I said quietly. Was this my brush-off? And it was good enough for me, if truth be told.

  “So it’s tomorrow. And I’m cooking for you.”

  My initial reaction was thankfulness, but in a flash I realised that yet again, I wasn’t asked, I was told. Damn cheek. He set me in such a spin, there was excitement and resentment combined. I kept control of my temper this time.

  “And where do I come into this? Do I get a say? Do I even need to turn up?” I asked, my voice dripping with derision.

  “Nope, bring a change of clothes to work tomorrow. And you are going to pay for your little show of temper today too.”

  “Now how could I refuse an offer like that?” I sneered.

  “It’s no offer, it’s an order. Goodnight.” Oh, he had the measure of me all right. He must have thought long and hard about how to play it, because now I was weak at the knees. I’d be there, with a change of clothes, no mistake. I was fleetingly aware of my still-ting
ling behind and was secretly looking forward to more of the same. This was a new me. I didn’t recognise myself, but I was excited as hell. And it seemed that Michael relished his new role too. What beast had I unleashed?

  * * *

  Yet again, my extension rang as I was just coming through the door. This time I had no doubt it was Michael, as he had just seen me pass by his open door.

  “Good morning, Michael,” I said into the receiver.

  “Miss Brennan, it’s James, I’d like to see you about that industrial injury case. Can we say nine-thirty?”

  Fuck! Nooo! Was there no end to my humiliation? And this time I had no one to blame but myself.

  “Shove-on, James. Yes, I’ll be there.”

  Michael was standing inside my door laughing when I turned around.

  “So you wanted discretion…” he teased. Damn, he’d heard it too. He came over to me and spoke very quietly. “…I trust you brought a change of clothes? Now I think you know what’s coming later, so just to remind you, I want you to go to the ladies’, remove your panties, and give them to me.”

  “You must be joking. I can’t spend the day at work with no knickers.” I could feel the excitement mounting. I couldn’t—could I?

  “Now, Siobhan, and bring them to my office. If you don’t, I’ll go twice as hard on you later. And for every minute you argue, there’s an extra ten smacks.”

  My knees were weak and my breathing was shallow and raspish. This was hot. I quickly scarpered off and did as I was told. I shut his door and handed them over. He fingered the soft cotton and his eyes lit in excitement. “Good girl,” he praised, kissing me hard, like the first day. I was trembling.

  “Now off you go—James will be waiting.”

  I watched him stuff my knickers into his pocket as I backed towards the door. My lips felt bruised from his kiss and I was acutely aware of my sex; it felt hot, damp, and on edge. It was the most incredibly erotic experience of my life. I didn’t know how I was going to make it through the day; I wanted him to take me there and then. Suddenly discretion was the least of my worries. I don’t know if I was more shocked at Michael or myself. I could feel the cool lining of my skirt swish against my bare buttocks and a draughtiness about my pussy as I walked to James’ office. I hoped my face didn’t betray my arousal as I knocked on his door.