by Gray Gardner
“Come meet me there now and we’ll have a drink before we eat with them,” Dr. Frasier offered, hearing an excited affirmation on the other end of the line when he hung up.
He’d just have to be patient.
Chapter 6
Mary rubbed her eyes as sunlight burned through her eyelids. Her neck ached. Her mouth felt so dry that she thought her lips would crack when she opened it. Her eyes fluttered as she shifted around on something hard.
Air sucked into her lungs as she pushed up to a sitting position and suddenly remembered what had happened. The bar. The fight. The damage. She knew exactly where she was as people fluttered around outside of the little window in the door to the white room where she was slouching in a corner between a large woman wearing three tattered coats and a long, thin woman who was clearly not wearing any underwear.
The drunk tank.
Groaning as she pushed up to her feet, the night quickly came back to her. Drinks at Flannigan’s with Will and his friends. People had actually come up to her and had spoken with her. She’d sipped on a well-deserved beer as she regaled her audience with tales of playing football as she grew up. “Heads up, bitch,” had become the quote of the evening. Then Nathaniel and his pathetic posse showed up. It was actually Will who’d started the fight, shoving up into Nathaniel’s face and making threats.
Flattered as she was, before Mary knew it there was beer and whiskey flying everywhere as elbows flew around and bodies fumbled over each other. She actually ducked and crawled, trying to get the hell out. Nathaniel had looked remorseful enough to her at the Honor Council meeting and everyone in the bar was totally shitfaced. She knew better than to get between two drunk, angry boys.
“There she is!” one of Nathaniel’s friends grunted as he grabbed the back of Mary’s dress and pulled her up to him, holding her close. “Why don’t you show me how a pretty little thing like you can throw a football?”
She turned her head as his breath wafted over her, then peered up at him. “Uh, no thanks,” she nodded, trying to turn and leave. He held onto her arms and squeezed.
“Hey, Nathan! Get over here!” he yelled.
Her mouth dropped open and she began to pull away a little more fervently, though it was hard because there were a few guys and girls in a shoving match behind her. She screamed as the boy suddenly crushed her against the bar, fists flying behind him and pinning them both. She could barely see over his shoulder but she knew it was Will and Nathaniel. Her hands stretched out, trying to push the boy back and then trying to find some leverage against the bar top pressing into her back.
Finally his weight lifted off of her and as she leaned forward and immediately gasped for air, her arms were suddenly pinned to her sides and a broad chest came into view. Looking up, she found Nathaniel glaring down at her.
“Where’s Will?” she frantically asked, straining to see around her captor. There he was, the only person in this whole place who cared about her, writhing on the ground and holding his face.
“Don’t worry about him,” Nathaniel sneered, squeezing her arms until they hurt. “I’d like to take this conversation somewhere a little more private.”
Private. What? Uh-oh… no. Had Dr. Frasier been right? Was this a playground thing? She pressed her lips together as she met his eyes. They were half closed as he leaned his head down towards her, the alcohol on his breath making her stomach churn.
“Stop,” she muttered, which was all she could manage as she quickly turned her head and jerked her shoulders to try and free herself.
“You know you don’t really want me to,” he said, his whiskers scratching against her cheek as he spoke into her ear. His large hands encircling her arms had begun to stray towards her chest.
“Get off!” she hollered, kicking her Mary Jane as hard as she could between his legs. He doubled over as his eyes bulged out of his red face. She didn’t waste any time drawing her fist back and slamming it against his jaw.
That would explain the pulsating ache and two scrapes on her knuckles. She took a breath and paced the drunk tank, the sunlight disappearing from the high window as clouds floated by. Ugh, she could smell every single person’s drink on her clothes. Too bad she hadn’t even gotten to finish one. She could have used a drunken haze at that moment.
Perfectly lucid, though, she couldn’t really blame the police officers for arresting her along with everyone else at Flannigan’s. She’d never been arrested and riding in a paddy wagon wasn’t so bad. It had gotten slightly lonely as the other girls quickly disappeared from the room as their friends bailed them out. She’d forgone her phone call. There wasn’t anyone to notify, anyway.
At least they’d told her that Will was okay, just a black eye, and that Nathaniel had a matching mark on his face, too. Good.
“Miss Tucker,” a bored looking, tiny woman in a blue uniform called as the door opened. “You’ve been released. You’re free to go.”
What? But she still had another twelve hours in the drunk tank, didn’t she? Had someone bailed her out? Cleared her name?
“What in the world did you do?”
Oh fuck. She quickly took two steps backwards and slammed into the wall. What was he doing there? How did he even know where she was? Was he following her? Had someone told on her?
Dr. Frasier stormed into the white room and took in the scene. There she was, small, vulnerable, and invariably guilty, cowering against the wall. A wave of relief suddenly swept over him. She didn’t look hurt. Thank God.
When he and Brad had left dinner they’d seen the police cars and paddy wagon, but it wasn’t until Brad started getting texts that he figured out what had happened. So incensed, he’d decided to wait until morning to bail her out. He needed to calm down because he didn’t want to hurt her. And she looked awfully guilty.
He stepped forward with his hands behind his back and stood in front of her, waiting for her eyes to turn upwards. They glanced left and right, and when they finally did look up at him his breath caught in his throat. It always amazed him how much bluer her eyes appeared every time he saw her. Clearing his throat, he tried his best to scowl down at her.
“A bar fight?” he calmly asked, raising an eyebrow. “A bar fight. Do you really think that’s the best way to conduct yourself only hours after your Honor Council hearing? Do you?”
She licked her lips and tried to find a little strength so her voice wouldn’t shake. God, he intimidated her. “I…”
“Yes or no, Mary Madeline,” he interrupted, liking the frown that crossed her face as he said her name. His body reacted to it, too, and he was glad he’d worn starched jeans.
For some reason she blushed when he said her name like that. Now flustered, she shook her head and looked down at her shoes.
“But it… it wasn’t my fault…”
“And yet here you are in a holding cell with a homeless woman and a crack whore!”
“Hey!” the prostitute objected in a crackly voice, glaring up at them through runny mascara.
Sighing in annoyance, he politely nodded at the woman in apology and held his hand out to the door.
“After you,” he leadingly said, watching as Mary clearly fought with herself. She was trying to decide if it would be better for her to just stay and wait out the 24 hours in lock-up. If she really knew what was coming then she would, but he wasn’t going to let her off easy.
Why, of all people, did it have to be Dr. Frasier who bailed her out? Biting her lip, she looked around the room and contemplated staying. It hadn’t really been that bad. She gasped as he made the decision for her though, by grabbing her elbow and dragging her behind him through the door. He gathered up her satchel from the bored looking policewoman. They briskly walked through the maze of desks and papers, people buzzing around and phones ringing loudly, and made it outside to the parking lot in the misty morning.
“Dr. Frasier,” she managed to choke out, trying to keep up with his long strides. He finally stopped and released her arm, peering
down at her. Man, he looked so angry. “Um, I… well, um… th-thank you… for bailing me out, I mean.”
She was thanking him? He shook his head and sighed heavily, looking up at the clouds moving through the sky. Turning, he opened the door to the silver Range Rover and waited impatiently.
“Get into the car, Mary Madeline,” he ordered, watching as her eyes widened, then shot to her right where the street was. “If you try to run from me I will catch you.” He leaned down so his lips were only inches from her ear. “And when I do catch you it will be much, much worse.”
Her cheeks flushed as she gaped up at him. Worse? What would be worse? She found her breath and immediately decided to just comply and get into the damned car. Maybe if she were reticent on the ride home he’d see that she really was sorry. Had she even said she was sorry? No, because what did she really have to be sorry about? She closed her eyes, annoyed at herself, as she climbed into the passenger seat.
He closed the door and moved to the other side of the car. Her scent was definitely Chanel and it warmed him inside for some reason. Even after a night in jail she still smelled so sweet and looked absolutely adorable with her hair falling out of the once tight ponytail. He tried to maintain his authority as he scowled and started the engine, pulling out into traffic and heading back to her house. His scowl disappeared when he noticed that she was nervously fiddling with her fingers in her lap. He didn’t want her to be frightened of him, he just wanted her to accept that she’d misbehaved and she had to pay for it. Closing his eyes briefly, he tried to push the image of her getting pummeled in a bar fight out of his mind.
“It scared me, you know,” he quietly said, surprising her and himself as the words passed his lips. She frowned as she quit fidgeting and looked over at him. “Hearing that you’d been involved in a fight… at Flannigan’s Pub, and then you’d been taken to jail… I didn’t sleep at all last night.”
Surprised, she turned her eyes away as his glanced over. Pressing her lips together, she rubbed her knuckles as she stared at the light plaid pattern on her black jumper. Her stomach flipped around at the thought of him losing sleep over her. If he was being honest then she could be, too.
“You were right,” she whispered.
He frowned as he turned down a tree-lined street and shot a look in her direction. Her hair was hanging over the sides of her face so he couldn’t quite see her. Right about what? That she’d misbehaved?
“It,” she began, then swallowed, “it was a playground thing.”
He rubbed his whiskers as he thought. What was a playground thing? What was she trying to tell him? And if she didn’t get her hands out of her lap soon he was going to go crazy. He just wanted to reach over and run his hands up one of those silky cream tights more than he’d ever wanted anything.
“He… he, um, he touched me…”
Nathaniel Worthington. Dr. Frasier jerked the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes as the front tire hopped over the curb. He glowered over at her.
“What did that entitled little shit do to you?” he growled, feeling the heat rush to his face as anger swelled up inside him. Two calls. All he had to do was make two calls and he could ruin that silver spoon fed fucker’s life forever.
She pressed back into the door and shook her head.
“He held me and… tried to kiss me…”
“And?” he shouted, holding his arms out. The thought of Nathaniel’s tongue forcing its way into her mouth made him boil with rage. At the moment she appeared to be cowering away from him, though, so he reined it in and leaned back in his seat. “Did he hurt you?”
“I took care of it,” she replied with a little humility, holding up her right hand with the two scraped knuckles.
She jumped slightly as Dr. Frasier burst out laughing, shaking his head and finally pulling the car back out onto the road. He knew she could throw a punch. He’d felt how hard she could swing an umbrella, seen her nail a kid in the face with a football, and had been on the receiving end of one of her balled up little fists of fury.
“I love that you can surprise me every time I see you,” he grinned, shaking his head.
She fought a smile as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. He looked so hot when he was smiling like that, unguarded and at ease. She was almost disappointed when he pulled up in front of her house. She liked this side of him. Her mind immediately went back to his office only a week before, when he’d kissed her. She wondered if he’d do it again. She was shocked to find that she really wanted him to.
Turning off the car, he got out and opened her door, reaching up and taking her hand as she jumped out to the ground. She wasn’t trying to fight him… at all. Maybe she thought that spending the night in jail had been punishment enough. He sighed as he prepared himself for a huge battle as they climbed up the steps. She took her satchel from him and fished her keys out, opening the door and turning to him. She sucked in her breath as he walked in right behind her and closed the door a little too hard.
“Uh, um,” she fumbled, flushing as she remembered the last time he’d been in her house. Her eyes darted to the couch in the living room. Oh no, not this again. Surely jail had been punishment enough.
“Upstairs,” he ordered, nodding with his chin as he took her satchel and set it on the table.
“What?” she asked, looking around the dark foyer as thunder rumbled outside. Was this his way of coming on to her? She would have sworn someone as good looking as him would have had better moves.
“You lied to the Honor Council yesterday. You got into a fight… in a bar… and you were arrested,” he calmly said, holding up his hand and ticking things off with his fingers. “I know you’re a good girl but that was very bad behavior and now you’re going to be disciplined.”
Gasping, she instinctively took a step away from him. Disciplined? Again? She slowly shook her head from side to side as her mouth hung open. Her heart raced in… what was it? Apprehension? Excitement? Certainly not excitement.
“B-but… it wasn’t my fault,” she choked, not recognizing the high octave of her voice. He couldn’t be serious. The last time he’d done that she’d punched him in the face.
“We can go upstairs or we can do it right here in your living room in broad daylight, if you’d like,” he sighed, holding his hand out to the couch. He’d liked that couch before, but this time he was afraid she’d put up a bit more of a struggle. And he really wanted to get his point across a little better this time. Upstairs in her room would be best.
“No, can’t I just promise to never do it again?” she whined, taking another step backwards. Was this what he wanted? For her to beg? Because she was not above that. She could beg if it would save her ass. “Please, Dr. Frasier.”
“No,” he shook his head, loving her remorseful face and her cute little figure stomping that little Mary Jane in protest. “I’ve already had to spank you twice now, Mary Madeline, and you still haven’t seemed to learn your lesson. I’m going to take you up to your room, put you across my lap and give you a good, hard spanking.”
She almost expired right there on her crimson area rug, which she was certain was the color of her face at the moment, too. Her insides twisted around as she opened her mouth several times to try and say something, but nothing would come out. They only stared at each other for a couple of seconds more before he grabbed a handful of the back of her dress.
“Come on,” he ordered, directing her to the dark wooden staircase and pushing her forward.
She stumbled up the steps as he pushed her, trying to turn and argue with him. “But, but Dr. Frasier! Would you do this to Roberta Greer if it were her?”
“Miss Greer would never behave like this,” he sighed, knowing full well that it was the truth. She’d probably never even gotten a traffic ticket. He steadied her as she tripped up another step.
“Okay, fine. Nathaniel, then. What about Will? He’s the one who started the whole fight!”
“He did, did he?” Dr. Frasier as
ked, disliking the reminder of that boy and his wandering hands all over her.
Oh shit, had she just outted her only friend at this school? She quickly tried to recover as her shoes shuffled up another step.
“I mean, it was just because of me. But you’re not going to spank him, are you?”
“No,” he laughed, reaching the top of the stairs and heading straight for the only opened door in the white hallway. “If I decide to discipline him or Mr. Worthington it’s going to involve a dean and their parents. I guarantee after that they will stay in line, but somehow I think that’s an empty threat to you.”
They entered the large master suite swirling with muted creams and greens and sparsely furnished.
“It’s happy hour in Paris right now. You’d be lucky to even get a coherent grunt of acknowledgement if you called my parents,” she mumbled, beginning to lean back a little as he walked towards her large bed.
“They don’t care about your schooling?” he asked, tightening his grip on her as he paused at the foot of her bed. What would that be like? His parents still hovered around him and probably would until the day they died. And when he was in school? It was way worse.
“Dr. Frasier,” she snapped, squinting her eyes as she peered up at him over her shoulder. “I’m a grown woman. They have lives of their own. I have a life of my own. And I must reiterate that I am too fucking old to be spanked!”
Taking that as his cue, he promptly took a seat on the small white padded bench at the foot of her bed and pulled her with him. She ungracefully fell face first across his legs with a short squeal and immediately began wriggling around, grabbing for anything that could give her some leverage so that she could pull away.
She grabbed at her fluffy white comforter around his back and kicked her legs. Being positioned like this was even more embarrassing than the fact that her professor was getting ready to spank her. He pressed a hand firmly onto her back, the spread of his fingers reaching from one side of her waist to the other.
She jerked her head around to try and look at him. “If you think that I’m just going to sit here quietly then you are sorely mistaken!” she shouted, cheeks pink from anger… mostly. She waved her hand behind her and unsuccessfully tried to push his arm off of her.
