‘Has anyone ever told you off before? As an adult, I mean?’
Ali shook her head.
‘That explains a lot. You know that I am going to be overseeing your department from now on, and if you are late again I will be the one dealing with you, so a telling off will be the least you have to worry about. I have half a mind to make you stand in the corner and think about that.’
They both laughed a quiet, insincere laugh. Ali’s face was now bright pink and her eyes remained focused on the floor.
Marie dismissed her, watching the slightly awkward way Ali carried the cute dress that showed off her legs to perfection.
Marie then sat musing. She knew the look Ali had given her. She knew it because it was just the sort of look she gave Ben about twenty times a day. It was the early submission look. It was not giving in; it certainly was not the total bottom-up surrender that she always wallowed in eventually, but the surrender was there in its infancy. It was an early indicator of later success, and Ali had given it to Marie.
Later that day, she lay in bed with Ben. Her bottom was swollen and sore, and she lay carefully on her side while she pushed herself deeper into his arms.
‘How come,’ she asked his chest, ‘at work I get to be in charge of everyone and people are nervous about me, but here I get spanked for every little thing I do wrong?’
Ben opened one lazy eye and continued drawing a circle on her shoulder. ‘What exactly are you asking?’
‘Why am I in charge there and not ever in charge here?’
He opened both eyes now and reached down to squeeze her bottom. ‘Do you want to be? You can’t, but do you want that?’
‘No.’ Her voice squeaked. ‘I just want to know what it’s like. I just want to know how you feel sometimes. I want not always to be the one who gets spanked. I am important.’ Her voice sounded thin in her own ears, and she was starting to kick a little under the covers.
Ben took her face in his hands and made her look at him. It was a forceful move and her heart thudded heavily as she met his eyes.
‘Marie, you are important. And at work you can be as bossy as you like, but at home that’s never going to happen. You don’t even want it, do you?’
Her lips opened a little but no words were waiting there. She arched her back and tried to move her face towards his.
He looked at her for a moment more before he leaned down and kissed her. When he let her go, she pushed her whole body into his. He smiled, put her under him, and entered her with a force that made them both gasp.
At work over the next few weeks, Marie took a special interest in Ali. It made perfect sense to give her new charge a little more attention. Ali had a reputation for having a lot of promise and a terrible attitude in equal measure, and Marie compiled a list of complaints and concerns about her. Her tantrums were legendary; Mike and a few others were terrified of her outbursts, and she was known to fly off the handle at the slightest hint of an insult.
After one particularly difficult exchange that left Mike shaking in the hallway, Marie stormed into Ali’s office and demanded to know what had happened, but when Ali started to explain she interrupted.
‘No, Ali, just no. I asked but I am just not interested. This stops and it stops now. If we weren’t at work, I’d recommend you get the spanking of your life. Your behaviour would be unacceptable in a six-year-old. Go and see Mike, and sort it out with him, because if I have to you won’t like it at all.’
And she left. It was only when she reached her office that Marie realised what she had said. She started to go back and apologise but then stopped and sat at her desk instead, waiting for alarm bells to sound, for the police to run in, or whatever happens when someone says something totally unacceptable. Nothing happened. Shaking her head gently, she returned to her work.
On the other side of the building, Ali still sat where she had been when Marie burst in. Many minutes passed, and then in a tiny whisper she told the space where Marie had been, ‘I wish we weren’t at work.’
Time passed. Ali started to spend an inordinate amount of time wandering the corridors near Marie’s office. She tried very hard to remember exactly what it was that Marie had threatened her with, wishing she could have recorded the words to replay at night when she was alone. Every memory became precious – the furious way Marie had opened her door, the way Marie’s eyes had honed in on her, the words she used, but mostly the terrifying, hope-giving threat. She oscillated between being the perfect minion and the most awful harridan because she wanted Marie to be proud of her and furious with her in turn.
Eventually, she persuaded herself that it was all a myth, that Marie had said nothing of the kind to her, because no one had ever spoken to her like that. No one ever would, no one would ever dare. The thought made her furious, and that was how it happened.
A short while after this horrible realisation, Ali burst into Marie’s office with neither warning nor a knock, and plopped down in the chair facing Marie’s desk.
‘I have to talk to you,’ she said.
‘Evidently so.’ Marie responded, then took a moment to survey Ali. Her hair was messy, as if she had run her hands through it. Her shoulders were up, and her large eyes were filled with unshed tears.
‘Mike is a prick. Do you know what he did? The bloody idiot –’
Marie raised a hand. ‘Stop talking.’ She spoke as if Ali were a young child, her voice heavy and even. ‘I want you to think through what you want to say to me before you say another word. I am not going to sit here and listen to a tantrum. If you really want to risk it, then go ahead, but you won’t like the consequences.’
Ali glared, to no effect since Marie had already turned away to continue her work. So she kicked the floor a couple of times, the edge of her shoe catching on the chair leg. She looked at the door, opened her mouth three times, then sat on her hands. Her breathing steadied.
Minutes passed.
‘Yesterday,’ she started, and Marie turned and to look, ‘Mike came to see me and told me that he had given the Stirwick report to Charles. I really wanted that project and I’ve been here for ages more than Charles. I have more experience than him, and I am better at my job than him. It’s just jobs for the bloody boys, isn’t it?’
‘Did you do anything about this feeling you have?’ Marie asked quietly.
‘Yes, I bloody well did. I went to Mike, and Charles was there of course, because they are bosom buddies now, and told him what a jerk he was, Mike that is. And I told Charles that he can sod off too.’
Marie put her head on one side as Ali spoke. She took in every word of Ali’s tirade, and for the first time in her six years of knowing him, she pitied Mike.
‘Ali, you need to stop talking now. Mike asked me about the Stirwick project and I suggested Charles should do it. I could explain the reasoning to you, but, quite frankly, I don’t want to. Your behaviour today has been unprofessional and histrionic. Leave my office now, and we will talk about this when I have had a chance to think about how best to deal with it. But I think we both know what you deserve, don’t we?’
She turned away from Ali in cold dismissal.
After thirty long seconds, Ali left. She walked to the loo, locked herself in a cubicle and cried. ‘Stupid, stupid cow,’ she hissed, and tried with all her self-deception skills to pretend she was talking about Marie.
* * *
That night was the monthly session where the girls from several departments would meet and have a few drinks. It often ended up being quite a raucous affair for those girls that wanted it to be.
Ali was there and on fine form. She cracked jokes, and responded with shrieks of delight when Marie joined the party, which Marie did her best to ignore.Wine flowed, a couple