My Naughty Little Secret (21 page)

* * *

Next morning, I didn’t bother with the usual game of “me first, you follow five minutes later.” I dressed in the black pinafore and a pale pink shirt, procured for me with love. And they fit like a glove. He had great taste and a fantastic eye. I felt like a million dollars as I was ready to go out the door.

“You ready to go?” I asked.

“Yeah, of course,” was the surprised reply. After he locked the door, I took his hand in mine and we walked hand in hand to the office. Nobody seemed to notice, or if they did they said nothing. It was a big day for me; Myra was leaving at lunchtime and my official tenure as personnel manager was starting, although it had been announced earlier in the week. I was having a farewell lunch with her. As we approached the office, Michael handed me a key to the apartment.

“You might want to go shower before lunch or something. Hold onto it.”

Simple as that. It was unofficially becoming my place too and to my amazement I quite liked the thought. I wasn’t ready for a full withdrawal from Ruislip yet, I liked the bolt hole, but I was the first step on the way.

Myra and I didn’t return to work after lunch. James had joined us for a while and told us to take the afternoon off and enjoy. He’d arranged facials for us as a parting pampering session in the store’s beauty department and we went straight from there to a wine bar with James promising he’d join us later.

Did I think of letting Michael know where I was? Too right I did; I’d learned that lesson the hard way. I sent him a text telling him where we were and suggesting he join James later. What I didn’t know was that in his haste that morning leaving the apartment with me, he had forgotten his mobile and hadn’t missed it. He said he went looking for me at about four-thirty to see what my plans for the evening were and he found the personnel department abandoned. James dragged him along to the wine bar and he came in with a dark face. James must have spotted it, I think, because he said something to Michael, and Michael’s face cleared. He came over and kissed me, much to Myra’s astonishment. She looked even more shocked as Michael was getting the drinks in and he slipped up, saying “What’ll you have, Dad?”

What could I do? I trusted Myra to be the soul of discretion. I just laughed.

“Myra, I’d like to introduce you to my boyfriend Michael Henrii, also by coincidence, James’ son; now just be grateful you didn’t find that out on a day you had a big career decision to make.”

Myra was speechless for a few minutes. Then she turned to James.

“You’re not paying her half enough; she’ll be well fit for the pair of you. So I take it then that you’re the secret successor, Michael.”

Well, fair play to her, she took it very well, especially considering she and James had worked together for so long. I didn’t think he’d get away so lightly with everyone else.

“I always knew there was some story there, but I couldn’t figure it out,” she confided. “I didn’t interview him with James; I never saw a CV and the job was never advertised as far as I knew. And they were thick as thieves from the day Michael started. I figured he was the next in line, I just didn’t know why.”

She was shrewd, Myra, and I was really going to miss her. She and James were chatting about the developments and Michael took advantage of the opportunity to scold me about not letting him know where I was until I informed him about the text. He patted his pockets and grinned.

“You’re off the hook; I’ve left my phone behind. You realise that this is all going to be very hard to keep quiet now?”

“Myra won’t tell a soul. You walked yourself straight into it. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“You didn’t upset me, you made me feel proud. I wanted to shout from the rooftops, this beautiful woman’s mine.”

“Ok, at the 100
^th
birthday party you can shout as loud as you like,” I volunteered, finally putting him out of his misery.

“Really, do you mean that, you’ll come as my partner? I love you, Miss Brennan,” he whispered. I tried to fix a piercing stare at him, but I don’t know if I succeeded.

“I’m glad, Michael, because I’m just beginning to realise that I love you too.”

Completely oblivious to the fact that his father and Myra were beside us, he swooped me up, then swung me around and around as he kissed me with all his might.

“It’s better than winning the lottery! Miss Shove-on Brennan loves me, Michael Henrii, the man who cheated his way into her heart. I don’t deserve you.”

James and Myra watched the display with amusement. Neither realised what was going on between us, but it was clear from their smiles they both recognised a young couple in love.

Chapter Eighteen

In early December, the excitement was really mounting for the store’s 100
^th
birthday party and the staff were all whispering about whom James’ successor was going to be. I really hoped this wouldn’t backfire on Michael and cause him to lose their support. He was going to have to handle it very carefully.

The plan was to have a half-day sale in Banbury’s in the morning, with items being marked down to the price they would have sold for one hundred years ago. Needless to say, we expected the store to be mobbed that morning, and all hands were going to be needed on deck. We were shutting promptly at one p.m. and there were teams of people coming in to clear the shop floor, decorate it, and provide catering and music. It was a mammoth task and we were all on tenterhooks waiting for each hiccough along the way.

To add to the tension, before the party Michael had to go to Paris and officially hand in his notice with his previous employer, as his leave of absence was nearly over. I could tell this was making him nervous; it was the point of no return. He was choosing his path. We talked it over and over. The what if’s. What if he wasn’t up to the job? What if the employees weren’t happy? What if he got homesick for Paris…blah blah. It was my turn to reassure him. I even threatened to spank some sense into him, but that made him laugh as he remembered my last pathetic attempt as Dominatrix. Finally a week before the party, he went and cut his ties.

I took advantage of Michael’s absence and had arranged to meet Claire and Tara for late night shopping and drinks in the city after work because I hadn’t been spending much time in Ruislip and hadn’t spent Friday night with the girls in ages. Added to that, the red dress I had seen in Banbury’s was gone and I had to find something special to wear to this party next week. I was really looking forward to the night and Michael’s last words were to tell me to ring him to pick me up as he’d be back by then.

After traipsing every shop we could fit into two hours, I ended up empty-handed. Crap, that meant the next day would have to be spent shopping too. I never got why shopping was referred to as retail therapy; it was more like ritual torture, changing in and out of clothes and getting more and more despairing of yourself as you failed to find anything that looked good on you. I hated it. At least we had the drinks to look forward to. As we hit the cocktail bar, I was fit to scream, cry, or both. What the hell was I going to do? I needed to find
something
; the problem was nothing lived up to my memory of that red cocktail dress. I was just going to have to drop my sights a bit.

The bar was crowded with Friday evening revellers, but we managed to get a corner table as some theatre-goers vacated it. Tara stunned me by saying she had been seeing the same guy for a month. I hadn’t realised how little I knew about the girls lately; I might just as well have let my room in Ruislip go, as I was never there anymore. I knew that was what Michael wanted; it’s just that I couldn’t quite bring myself to that point. I’d done it once before, which had ended so badly. And it was still early days.

Claire said she was getting fed up with Pete. Life revolved around the local pub, Chinese takeaways and football. Either she slotted into his life or she didn’t, he didn’t seem that bothered one way or the other. She was just cautious about making the break as they had been an item for so long.

I told the girls I was half considering moving in with Michael and we discussed the pros and the cons, and even though they knew it would mean they had to find a new housemate, they were all in favour of me giving it a shot. They both thought Michael was the best thing had ever happened to me, in spite of the shaky start.

“He’s really helped you blossom,” Claire said seriously. “You’re way more confident and self-assured. You’re happier.”

Tara went to the ladies’ and as soon as she was gone, Claire was jumping straight in with the questions.

“So does Michael still spank you then?” she asked a little too loudly, thanks to the two cocktails we had just downed.

“Ssh, for God’s sake, Claire. Will you keep it down? Yes, he does,” I hissed at her, blushing to the roots of my hair. “Anyway, I thought you didn’t approve.”

“Mmm, I thought I didn’t either, but you two are like a pair of lovesick sparrows. I can’t help wondering if there’s something in it. Does it still turn you on?”

“Fuck, yeah, it’s really, really sexy.”

“Does it not scare you a bit?”

“Never, he’s never pushed it too far and it always drives me crazy. It’s not like he controls me or anything. I’ve seen other people way more controlled by men who would never spank them. Women who are terrorised by men, verbally or physically. It’s not like that at all. At the end of the day, I call stop and he has to stop straightaway. Michael’s no bully. Claire.”

“I think I know that now, but at the start I was worried for you. He really seems to love you.”

“Yeah, I think so, and I love him too.”

“Ach, sure any fool can see that,” she giggled. “It makes me wonder what I’m missing out on with Pete. With you two there is so much excitement and magic. It’s hard not to envy it.”

Tara came back and wanted to know what we were talking about.

“Oh, just my brand spanking new office,” I said, taking into a fit of the giggles. Claire choked on a mouthful of her cocktail.

“What, what did I say?” poor Tara asked, perplexed, as we tried to contain our silliness.

“Damn, look at the time,” Claire said, recovering. “If we don’t move our arses, we’ll miss the last tube and we’ll have to get a cab home. That’ll cost us a fortune.” We left the pub in a hurry so the girls could make it to the station. Without thinking, I hopped into the first cab at the taxi rank opposite the station.

Michael was asleep on the chair as I came in. He looked tired, unshaven, and tousled as he napped. It tugged at my heartstrings. I kissed him lightly to tell him to go to bed.

“How was your day?” I asked. “Did everything go ok?”

“Mmm, not too bad. Philippe wasn’t that surprised that I wasn’t coming back. It was good to see him. And it was great to see Mum and Gaston; they’re coming over to the party and looking forward to meeting you. What time is it?”

“About twelve.”

“How’d you get home?” he asked suspiciously

“Taxi.”

“Were the girls in the cab with you or were you on your own?”

His face was darkening. I seriously considered lying for a moment when I saw the look in his eyes, but I thought that it was bloody ridiculous that a woman of my age should have to lie about something like that.

“No, I was on my own; they got the last tube.”

“So you went out on your own and hailed a random taxi on the streets of London at eleven-thirty at night.”

“No, Michael, I got in the first cab in the taxi rank, outside the tube station that I had walked to with the others. For Christ’s sake, I’m not a child. I can take care of myself. You don’t own me and you have no right to tell me what I can or can’t do. And London at eleven-thirty on a Friday night is just as busy and safe as it is at seven-thirty; you’re being an idiot.”

Bad move. He didn’t like being called an idiot any more than he liked the thought of me getting a taxi on my own late at night.

“Get into the bedroom and prepare yourself for a spanking,” he said coldly.

Shit! And to think I had only been saying not an hour before that he wasn’t controlling or that I wasn’t scared. Now I was scared. I’d never seen him that cold before. Angry, yes, but not cold. I think I timed my comments badly. He was already crotchety from being woken up. I scurried off to do what I was told, but every fibre of my being objected. I knew this was going to be destructive. I could feel the negative energy surrounding us.

I waited, bare-bottomed and obedient. But for the first time since I met Michael, I did actually feel bullied. That was so different to feeling submissive. I couldn’t submit because I really felt he was being an unreasonable boar. And I was scared because it felt wrong. Wrong for me, anyway. I couldn’t tell how it felt for him right now because he just wasn’t being my Michael, and I couldn’t see inside his head.

He walked right past me without speaking and went straight to the wardrobe. Not a word. I might as well not have existed. He came back and tied my hands and told me in that same cold voice it was for my own good, to protect them if I wanted to cover my behind. I really wasn’t comfortable with this at all. Until now I either wanted a spanking or at very least felt it was deserved. Then he rubbed something cold and hard over my behind in a very menacing way, before showing me it. A hand-painted, elaborately decorated, wooden spanking paddle. If the circumstances were different, I might have admired its beauty or workmanship, or I might have had a shiver of anticipation at the prospect of it being used on me. But not now. Now I wanted to run.

“Twenty; count and thank me after each one or I start over.”

That was it, the sum total of my encouragement, preparation, or understanding. No way of knowing what was really at the (pardon the pun) bottom of it. He was angry I had to bear the brunt of it, but I couldn’t understand or argue because he wouldn’t tell me. Was he mad because I said he was an idiot or because I took a cab?

He started spanking hard and mercilessly. I counted and cried. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. Where was the closeness, the intimacy? This definitely wasn’t what I’d signed up for. It wasn’t just that it hurt, but by god he made sure it hurt. It was the lack of feeling that got to me. He was being cruel. I was crying after the first stroke, because I didn’t recognise this man. He lectured me about disobedience and disrespect. The disrespect I could get; I had just accused him of being an idiot. But I was a grown woman, responsible for myself, where did he get off thinking I should have to offer him obedience? Bullshit. I offered him my body, soul, and fidelity. But not my autonomy. I wasn’t his chattel. I was his partner. And he had to understand that too. I safeworded for the first time ever at fifteen strokes. He stopped, but told me he would finish it later, I wasn’t getting off. Then he left the room.