Chapter 2 #2
The sincerity in her words and the tone in which she said them brought the tears back, so I nodded. I was about to make my escape when a thought had me pausing. “Um, you’re not going to tell anyone about this, right?” I held up the card as if she needed a reminder of what this was.
“Of course not. And if by anyone you mean Nigel, I assure you that while I’m his sister-in-law, that doesn’t mean you ever have to worry about my sharing anything that happens in this classroom or betraying anything you share with me in confidence.”
I could tell my question had stung her a little and I felt like a heel.
“I know, it’s just that I…” I forced a smile that I was sure resembled more of a grimace.
“Never mind, just ignore me. Oh, and thanks,” I managed then fled before I either broke down in sobs or threw myself at her feet and spilled my guts.
Logically I knew the only ones who could blame hormones when their emotions felt like an out-of-control roller coaster were women with actual medical issues or those going through the miracle of pregnancy.
However, emotionally, I felt like I was as close to losing it as a woman in the middle of labor screaming like a banshee whose idiotic doctor has the audacity to point out that from the beginning of time women had been squatting in fields to give birth and then going right back to work.
Add a patronizing pat on a trembling arm and a smug smile and I’d bet no jury would convict the poor new mommy for murder.
At least not the female jurors. Especially those who were mothers.
Still, since I couldn’t use temporary insanity as an excuse for earning that card, I took a few minutes to escape into the nearest bathroom where I could splash cold water on my face until I was pretty sure the tears wouldn’t reappear.
Well, not until your ass is raw.
“You are so not helping,” I mumbled as I did a quick breathing exercise that we taught at the clinic to ward off panic attacks. Finally, it was time to stop stalling and face my fate.
“Ready or not, here I come,” I said, tugging the strap of my backpack over my shoulder and pushing through the doors, destination the office of Grant Chambers, aka the Director of Discipline. Jeez, the title alone had the skin of my butt crawling.
I almost convinced myself that I’d done as instructed and reported as directed but found the office unoccupied, but only almost. The man would have to have the hearing of a bat to respond to the soft tap I’d given against the door with my fingertip.
Pulling up my Big-girl panties, I fisted my fingers together and gave a proper knock which, unfortunately, was immediately followed by a, “Come in.”
“Um, hi,” I said as I opened the door just wide enough to poke my head through.
“Hi,” Professor Chambers replied as if I’d dropped by to extend him an invitation to join Vince and I for coffee rather than the real reason I just happened to appear in an office I’d never even seen before.
“Are you planning on coming all the way in?”
He asked the question with a trace of humor which for some reason actually made me relax a bit. “Would if help if I kept my butt in the hallway?”
He chuckled. “Sorry, but I’m afraid not. Would it help if I promise not to bite?”
“How about promising not to paddle?”
“Again, afraid not,” he said and then stood which had that moment of relaxation fleeing.
The man wasn’t nearly as tall as Nigel, but he wasn’t a wimp either. Add in the fact that his hand looked disproportionally huge when he gestured for me to come forward and I was pretty shocked I managed to move my feet.
“Let’s see what we’re dealing with. It can’t be all that terrible considering this is the first time you’ve come to my office, Miss Waltman.”
“You know my name?”
I had to admit he had a great chuckle, but couldn’t the villains in all those scary movies claim the same a moment before sinking their teeth, claws, or say a chainsaw blade into you?
“I make it a point to know all the students in our hallowed halls.” He moved around his desk and pulled out the chair in front of it a bit more as if to make sure I saw it as my next destination.
Considering the fact that being seated meant my butt would be inaccessible, I didn’t hesitate to accept his invitation. Once seated, I listened to him close the door I’d not even realized I’d left open. Perhaps it was my subconscious’ attempt to keep an escape route accessible.
“Can I offer you a glass of water?”
“That would be fabulous!” I said and then slapped a hand over my mouth when a very inappropriate bark of strangled laughter escaped.
He had the grace to ignore the fact he was sharing his office with a loon and simply opened his mini-fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.
He didn’t just twist off the cap and hand it to me either.
He turned one of several very pretty crystal glasses sitting on a silver tray on his credenza over and poured the water into the glass.
A napkin was placed on the surface of his desk and the glass carefully set down.
By the time he moved behind the desk again, my heart was no longer threatening to pound its way out of my chest. Even though picking up the glass required me bending forward slightly, the fact he was now seated in his leather chair assured me he wasn’t going to pull any sort of sneak attack on my posterior.
I took the time to swallow most of the glass’ contents before setting it down again. “Does that work every time?” I asked, gesturing to the credenza and the glass as I sat back in the chair.
“Most of the time,” he admitted with a grin that threatened to pull one out of me. “Ready to tell me why you’re gracing my office?”
“Gracing is such a nice word,” I said, pretty shocked that I was able to make light of a situation I’d been positive was going to be terrifying. “Professor Berringer thought it might do me good to receive a few swats.”
His eyebrow quirked in that way, but for some reason, it didn’t send me flying out the door. It simply told me he’d probably heard every excuse ever dreamt up by some student facing discipline.
“Okay, while that is true, I guess it’s because I sort of zoned out in class again,” I confessed.
“Which won’t help you when it comes time for finals.”
“That’s pretty much what she said, and you’re both right. I promised not to do it again, but I guess she didn’t really believe me.”
“Or perhaps she’s concerned that if you don’t take the lesson to heart, you won’t truly learn the importance of paying attention in a class that will affect your future?”
There was a reason he was head of the university and the fact he could state things so clearly and without a bunch of threats or declarations of the pitfalls of failure made him very good at his job. “Or that.”
My admittance earned me another grin as he held out his hand.
I was just about to shake his hand and thank him for his words of wisdom when I realized my fingers were still clutching the card. “Oh, sorry, it’s um, a little wrinkled,” I said as I slid the card into his hand.
A chuckle made me see how much that didn’t matter to him. “They quite often are.”
He took a moment to read whatever it was that Brooke had written making me wonder why in the hell I hadn’t done the same.
“Tell me, Miss Waltman, did Professor Berringer also offer an ear?”
“Yes, but I-I don’t want to bother her.”
He sat forward for the first time as if to make sure I paid attention.
“Miss Waltman, I assure you that nothing you could say to any professor or any member of the staff would be found boring. We all actually care a great deal about everyone in this university or on the Ranch itself. And unless I’m wrong, Professor Berringer is also a friend of yours. ”
“Funny, she said that too.” My voice was so soft it was a wonder he could hear, but I had no doubt that he’d heard every word, both spoken and those left unsaid.
“Then I hope that one day you’ll feel able to take her up on the offer.”
I could only nod because I was determined not to cry.
“To be quite honest, you look like you can use more than a few swats.” Evidently he saw the panic in my eyes because he reached out and settled his hand gently on top of mine that somehow had moved to clutch the edge of his desk.
“I didn’t mean that literally. While I’m a firm advocate of paddling, I’m even more of a believer in the power of communication.
The very fact that you’re taking college classes while working full time at the clinic tells me you have a well of untapped strength to call on.
But I want you to consider the fact you don’t have to do everything alone.
There are people all around you just waiting to help.
You’ll find that talking solves a lot of issues that your brain is trying to persuade you are better kept in some dark box never to see the light of day.
If not Brooke, perhaps you can talk to another friend or I can arrange an appointment with Dr. Denten. ”
I looked up and managed to meet his gaze. “Thanks, and I’m not trying to brush you off. But… I think I know the person I really need to talk to.”
He gave me a long look. “Does that mean you plan on actually talking to them or just that you’ve identified them in your head?”
What was it with all these direct questions?
Maybe he’s trying to get you to quit stalling and start talking.
I sighed. “Will you believe me if I promise I’m really going to try?”
Another weighted moment passed but I knew I was finally being completely honest and knew he’d find no evidence of subterfuge in my eyes
“Yes, I’ll take you at your word,” he conceded and then pulled his hand back. “Okay then, ready to get this done?”
“Does anyone ever just say ‘sure, let’s do this thing’?”
“Not in so many words, no,” he said with another chuckle. “But that doesn’t keep it from needing to happen. Go ahead and stand, skirt to your waist and lower your panties to your knees. Place your palms flat on the desk and push your bottom out.”
How someone who was used to seeing patients doing almost the exact same things he’d requested, well, minus the push your butt out part, could be so embarrassed was a question I’d never ask.
Instead, I set my backpack on the floor and stood.
As I reached beneath my skirt, my fingers fumbling a bit as they blindly reached for the waistband of my panties, he moved around the desk again and then disappeared out of sight behind me.
The click of a door opening didn’t have me turning to see if he’d left as I’d seen the huge armoire on my way into his office.
And I didn’t have to live on the Ranch to know exactly what those armoires contained either.
Not when there was one in the clinic available to any Daddy, Mommy, Dominant, or Caregiver who needed an implement to convince a Little or a submissive that they meant business.
By the time I felt his presence behind me, I was bent over the desk, my palms planted firmly on wood that I suddenly wished was fabric I could curl my fingers into. Or better yet, the denim of a pair of jeans worn by the man who was the source of all this angst.
He’s not the source and you know it!
Okay, fine, but it was hard to admit that the actual one to blame was me, myself and I.
“There will be six strokes as long as you remain in position. Move or attempt to reach back and cover yourself or block my arm will only have the count start from the beginning. Do you understand, Miss Waltman?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
Being ready didn’t mean I wasn’t surprised when the paddle he’d chosen met the flesh of my bare butt. If he was surprised to hear the squeal it pulled out of me, he was polite enough not to mention it.
The man was a pro at wielding a paddle but he was also kind enough to administer the half dozen swats without a bunch of pausing to allow the pain to bloom or my mind to freak out on how many strokes were left to endure.
Instead, by the time I was about to attempt to cool the fire he’d lit by reaching back to fan my poor hot ass with my hands, he was setting the paddle onto the desk beside me.
“You did well, Hazel.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I said and realized that somewhere between stroke number one and six, I actually did feel better.
Granted, my ass stung like I’d sat on a cactus, but my heart felt lighter and my mind wasn’t spinning.
I didn’t even feel all that embarrassed as I pulled my panties up and my skirt down. “Um, is that all?”
There was that rich chuckle again. “Though you sound quite surprised to discover you’re still not only alive but will still be able to sit even if a tad bit more gingerly for an hour or so, the answer is yes, that’s all unless you see fit to visit my office again.”
I laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. What had seemed so dreadful, hadn’t been all that horrid. Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I followed him to the door. “Thank you, Sir. Not for the paddling really, but for being, I don’t know, so nice about it I guess.”
“You’re welcome. Let’s hope that the next time we meet it will be under happier circumstances.”
“That would be great,” I said and meant it. I gave him a little wave once I was back out in the hall. I no longer held the card, but I didn’t need it as a reminder that if there was any chance of whatever this was that Nigel and I had started going any further, I needed to woman up and talk.
“Feeling better?”
Brooke’s question caught me off guard but I didn’t even hesitate to answer. “I’m working on it.”
“Still friends?”
And didn’t that make me feel like the little snot I’d most likely been in her classroom.
I switched direction to come back and grab her hand to pull her across the threshold of the room where she ruled as Professor Berringer.
Once she had both feet firmly planted in the hallway, I said, “If you’ll still have me. ”
“Only to infinity and beyond,” Brooke said and pulled me to her to hug me hard. “I love you, you big goofball.”
“I’m sor—”
“Over and done with all that,” she said, stepping back and waving my apology away. “I just want to remind you that as much as we might believe it, men are not the magical mind readers we often think they are, if you catch my drift?”
“Caught and tucked safely away,” I assured her. As I walked away with a little wave, I knew that if I ever did need a woman’s ear, I had one in Brooke Berringer.