Maggie didn’t answer, merely glared at him. He knew she’d written it. She wasn’t about to make things worse by giving him more ammunition.
“You will stop writing your blog. Not only will you stop writing your blog, but you’re going to delete the posts you’ve already written.”
“No.” Maggie was tired people pushing her around today. “You can’t make me delete my blog.”
“Thank you for admitting the blog is yours.”
Bother. She firmed her mouth and said nothing else.
“Maggie, you will delete your blog when you go home tonight. I’ll expect your blog to be history by the time you arrive at work tomorrow.” He picked up his phone and started punching in numbers. “That is all. You can go now.”
Chapter Eighteen
If there’s one thing that pisses me off, it’s censorship. People who try to restrict others from offering their opinions or saying what they think are worse than dirt.
My blog is private. Yes, others are free to read it. They’re free to comment on each post. I don’t expect them to agree with me, but I do expect sensible comments—something more than “you’re stupid” and “your blog sucks”.
Today, someone I know well informed me I need to delete my blog or else. Sorry. Not gonna happen. I’m not doing anything illegal. I have never mentioned names, and don’t believe I have caused harm to anyone. I’ve never blogged at work or used work computers to read my comments. My blog has nothing to do with work. It’s personal.
That is all I’m going to say on the matter. Tomorrow, it’s back to spanking.
Connor read Maggie’s post with concern. He knew it wasn’t him. Was that why she’d run off without letting him explain?
He read the post again, none the wiser. He’d tried to call her, but she wasn’t answering her phone, letting the calls go through to voice mail. When he’d tried to confront her at her apartment, there had been no reply. Connor wasn’t sure if she was there or not. Frustration simmered through his gut at his lack of success.
At least he had one way of contacting her.
Dear Bad Ass,
It sounds as if you had a shitty day. You’re right to stick up for yourself and refuse to delete your blog. It’s private and doesn’t have anything to do with your job.
If you blog at work or use work time to do your posts, then an employer might have a case against you, but from what you’ve said, your blog is strictly a private one.
How are things going in your spanking world? Has spanking met your expectations or has the reality disappointed you?
Connor hoped she’d give her honest reaction to spanking. Maggie had said she’d enjoyed it, and he thought she’d relished the times he’d smacked her curvy bottom. When he thought about it now, he couldn’t believe how wrong he’d been to hesitate. It was wrong to close himself to new experiences without considering different angles. His encounter with Maggie had shown him that. He didn’t think he’d ever get into the BDSM scene and didn’t want a true submissive, but having Maggie under his control in the bedroom made him hot. The resulting sex was some of the best he’d ever had, the closeness and intense satisfaction after the event living with him still.
But Maggie thought he’d lied to her about his cousin. She was avoiding him at work. Damn Sylvie and her impish sense of humor. He intended to wring her neck the next time he saw her. He cursed under his breath. Hell, he’d admire the adroit way Maggie shunned him, if it wasn’t so bloody frustrating.
And something was up with the rest of the girls. None of them were talking to each other. Julia was home now. He’d picked her up after work and driven her home. She’d obviously wanted to tell him something, but had stopped at the last moment, bursting into tears instead. He’d done the only thing he could—holding her and murmuring soft words of nonsense until she’d cried herself dry.
Although he’d offered to stay with her, she’d said she wanted some time alone. Hell, when had things become so screwed up that none of them were talking to each other? They were best friends. While his mates might rib him for hanging out with chicks, he’d known they were envious of his relationship with the women. At the start, a couple of them had accused him of being gay, but over the years, the parade of girlfriends through his life had set them straight.
Cursing softly, he returned his attention to his email.
I love spanking a woman, hearing her soft cries when I give her a surprise swat. I like seeing the marks I’ve made on her butt. I always thought I’d feel terrible guilt.
The first time, I was horrified and worried I balanced on a slippery slope. I imagined I could turn into a violent man. It hasn’t happened. I love touching and kissing a woman’s bottom. It’s so curvy and plain sexy.
It’s a way of connecting with a woman, one I would have missed if I hadn’t explored and tried new things.
Kinky Lover
Connor reread his email and hit send, watching the email flash off the screen. Damn, he had it bad. He’d never had another woman get to him like Maggie. She wasn’t even his type.
He considered that thought for a moment and smirked. Nah, Maggie was his type. It was the blondes who were cast in the wrong part.
He waited in case Maggie replied, but after ten minutes, he decided to power down his laptop and have a couple of drinks with his flatmates before hitting the sheets.
Maggie slept fitfully, tossing and turning, finally dragging herself out of bed just shy of six. Another Friday. At least she’d have the weekend to regroup. Her top lip curled. Mope. She showered and dressed for work. Ready way too early, she decided to check her blog and email before going out for breakfast.
She smiled when she noticed an email from Kinky Lover. After reading his email, she composed one of her own.
Dear Kinky Lover,
Thanks for the support. Yesterday was a shitty day, but hopefully today will be a better one.
As you can see, my blog is fully intact and I’m not caving into demands to delete it. I believe asking me to delete my blog is an infringement of my rights.
Ever since I read the erotic romance about spanking, I was intrigued. Now that I’ve investigated the real world of spanking and learned more, there’s no way I’m going back to vanilla. I don’t have a partner at the moment. When I do hook up with another man, it will be with openness. I’ll tell him straight up that I’m into spanking. I’m not interested in a relationship that doesn’t include a bit of kink. I intend to make my needs clear right from the start.
Having said all that, I know it won’t be easy. Finding my first partner was difficult. Ah, but the rewards. Yeah, it hurts, but after a while the pain transports into a sort of euphoria that’s hard to explain. The trust and closeness—I guess you’d call it intimacy—is incredible.
Bottom line (ha-ha, no pun intended) is spanking does it for me, enhances a relationship and makes it special. I’m a true believer.
Big Bad Ass
Half an hour later, Maggie sat in a café near work, watching the ferries come and go on the harbor. She picked up a piece of toast and replaced it on her plate. Eating was the last thing she felt like at present. Instead, she sipped her coffee. People-watched. Most hurried, their coats wrapped around them to ward off the winter chills. Maggie thought they looked like a flock of dull blackbirds or whatever sets blackbirds hung out in together. They had their heads down and none of them appeared happy about going to work. A few school children blended in with dark-colored uniforms, but it was the tourists who stood out with their bulky backpacks and bright T-shirts and coats.
She glanced down at her short black skirt and matching jacket. When she’d changed her wardrobe, she’d gone with a lot of black, since it suited her, but maybe she’d invest in a few colors. A winter’s day in Auckland was gray enough without her adding more black.
Sighing, she stood and left the café for work. Friends were like bright colors. They made everything fun and the day full of laughter.
Maggie settled into the rout
ine of work with relief. Today she was ready to input the accounting codes into the computer. It was easy work, although she needed to concentrate, and the morning passed quickly. She debated skipping morning tea before deciding that was plain childish.
Susan and Christina sat at their normal table with a couple of guys she didn’t know. She grabbed a coffee and asked if she could join another group who had an empty seat at their table.
Maggie slipped into the seat and almost jumped up again when she found the animated chatter she’d noticed earlier was about her blog.
“Did you read the spanking blog today? The woman is in trouble at work because of her blog.”
“I’m not surprised,” a woman said. “It’s not the sort of stuff a business wants their employees mixed up with. It’s not normal.”
“What’s not normal?” Maggie asked with a clear snap in her voice. “Who are we to judge what’s normal and what’s not?”
A woman she recognized as an accounting clerk from one of the other sections leaned forward, her eyes as round as coffee mug. “You mean you’d let a man spank you?”
Maggie shrugged. “I guess it depends on the man and how much I trusted him. It would depend on the circumstances.”
Her comments started a lively debate. Maggie concentrated on her coffee, tired of the discussion. She didn’t care what other people thought about the subject. Her opinion mattered. Period.
“Ms. Drummond.” Greg’s stern voice cut through the chatter, and she straightened from her slouch, her spine hitting the back of the chair.
“Yes?”
“My office, when you’ve finished your break.” He strode off, and she pulled a face at his back. Several of the women giggled. Maggie rolled her eyes. What was this? School all over again? Unable to face another mouthful of coffee, she stood and followed Greg.
“Close the door behind you.”
Maggie followed his orders and shut the door with a faint click.
“Have you deleted your blog?”
Maggie’s chin jerked upward. Her eyes narrowed. He hadn’t even looked at her, instead concentrating on his computer screen. “No.”
“Do you intend to delete your blog?”
“No.”
Greg nodded slowly, finally switching his attention to her. “I’m sorry to do this, but you’re not the woman I thought you were. Skulking around with Grey, and writing scandalous blogs. Using the Internet during work hours for private matters. I’ve given you every opportunity to follow my orders. Stop by your desk to pick up your personal belongings. I’ll have a security guard escort you from the building.”
“What?” She stared at him dumbly, shock roaring through her.
“You’re fired. I don’t want to see you again. Shut the door on your way out.”
On trembling legs, Maggie staggered from Greg’s office. She slammed the door so hard the inner walls shook and two people popped their heads from their offices to see what was happening. On the plus side, it seemed as if Greg didn’t intend to pursue her any longer.
A uniformed security guard stood by her desk, waiting for her arrival. Workers arriving back at their cubicles after morning tea stared. The whispering started.
Refusing to cry, Maggie bit down on her bottom lip, collected her handbag and a couple of personal items from her desk. The security guard watched with an eagle eye. Maggie wanted to tell him she wasn’t interested in stealing her hole punch or a box of pens.
“I’ll leave the stapler,” she said in a sweet voice.
He stared at her, his face impassive.
“I’m done,” she said a few minutes later. With her shoulders back and her head held high, she stalked down the corridor, the security guard following her like a bad smell.
Now wasn’t the time to fall apart. She could do that later when she was alone.
Damn. Fridays really sucked.
I said I wasn’t going to mention censorship and work again, but reality intruded in my life today. One of the associate partners fired me for refusing to delete my blog. He asked me if I’d deleted my blog or intended deleting it. When I said no, he told me to collect my personal belongings and leave.
He fired me.
I’m in shock right now. I’m not even sure they can do that. My head has whirred in circles ever since I arrived home. I didn’t use my computer to look at my blog comments or do a post, but I have used it for other personal stuff. I’m not alone. A lot of my fellow employees did the same thing. Personal use of work computers was the reason people noticed my blog. Or at least that’s what I surmise. I know they were investigating usage, because we had a memo come around about personal use.
I thought about consulting a lawyer who specializes in wrongful dismissal. The truth is I just want to forget the whole sorry mess. Maybe a fresh start is a good idea. I shouldn’t have any trouble getting a new job since there are plenty of administration and office jobs around. I can probably get a job at another accounting firm without too many problems.
Chapter Nineteen
No reference. No job.
It was as simple as that.
Maggie scanned the situations vacant section of the Herald and circled the various accountancy related jobs she could apply for. Three weeks of job hunting and ringing around recruitment agencies had made Maggie consider the realities.
She didn’t have enough money to pay the rent due next week.
Barker & Johnson wouldn’t give her a reference.
No, not quite right. They’d give her a reference, but one stating the period she’d worked for them. That was all.
So far, prospective employers had taken one look at the damning sentence and started asking pointed questions. There was no point lying, because all they needed to do was ring Barker & Johnson. Despite the privacy act, they were able to do this because she’d completed a form to say they could ask for information.
A vicious circle. She was screwed no matter what she did.
Maggie clicked her pen then started tapping it on the newspaper, each rap louder than the last. Maybe she should try something else. Huh! No maybe about it. With one hundred dollars in her check account and a rent payment due, she couldn’t afford to be picky.
Maggie studied the rest of the jobs, ones she wouldn’t have considered in the past. She circled several. Shop assistants. Jobs in cafes. Waitressing. She had experience with most of them after working during her student days. Maybe they wouldn’t mind the lack of a reference, especially if she could round up some character references to prove her honesty and reliability.
Sighing, she picked up the phone and started ringing for appointments. Several required email applications, and she followed the instructions in each particular advertisement.
The phone rang and her heart leapt. Connor? He’d rung a lot during the first week, but she’d ignored his calls and thumps on her door, leaving her apartment only when she knew he wasn’t outside. Now, she was feeling her solitary state and had thought about ringing him, giving him a chance to explain.
“Hello.”
“Ms. Drummond, this is Max Lynn from the National Bank. I’m ringing to talk to you about your check account. It’s gone into overdraft.”
“No. No, I have just over one hundred dollars in there. One hundred and twelve dollars to be precise.”
“You are two hundred and four dollars in OD.” The clipped voice rang with truth and her gut roiled. “You need to bring the account back into credit. When is your next paycheck due?”
“I…I’m not working at the moment.”
“I see.”
Maggie swallowed. What did he see? She wanted to ask, but didn’t think smart-ass questions were appropriate right now. “I’m looking for another job and have several interviews this afternoon. Is it possible to arrange a short-term overdraft facility?”
“We can discuss your situation,” he said, although Maggie heard the silent doubt in his voice. “Can you come into the branch tomorrow at ten-thirty?”
“I have job
interviews for most of the morning. I could come in around two.”
“I will see you then.” He hung up, leaving Maggie gripping the phone so hard it left an imprint on her palm. Unshed tears shrouded her vision. She blinked and one trickled slowly down her cheek. Her hand shook when she set the phone back on the charger.
A sob tore free. Everything had gone so wrong. And she was lonely with no one to talk to. She missed Connor more than she cared to admit, her heart aching with the loss.
A glance around her apartment brought memories she didn’t want. Her naked, stretched over the back of the couch. A quiet drink with Connor. Down and dirty laughter and off-color jokes with her girlfriends.
Loneliness gnawed at her, underlining her current position.
She had to pay her rent. And tomorrow she had to get a job, no matter what it was. She could always keep looking for something better once she was back on her feet.
A second glance around the room brought an idea. She had to sell some of her stuff to at least to make the next rent payment. Without friends, she hardly needed furniture.
With a new sense of purpose, she wandered around her apartment and made a list of things to sell. She’d list them on the Internet auction site, Trade Me. That would bring her some cash, and once she’d paid her rent, she’d clear her overdraft.
It felt good to have a plan.
Friends. It’s funny you don’t realize how important they are until you lose them.
I had four really good friends who I met through work. I’m not going to go into details, but life has sucked recently. As you know, I lost my job, and I don’t see my friends these days. I miss them. I miss their teasing and the way they knew my good points yet weren’t above giving me a hard time for stepping out of line.
Friends are there for you through the good and bad. They don’t judge. They support. They’re honest with you and worthy of trust. They tell you if your skirt is tucked into your pantyhose before you leave the restrooms or if there’s part of your lunch stuck between your teeth.
The Bottom Line Page 24
