The Bottom Line (22 page)

She needed to end things with Connor before she got hurt even worse.

The bus neared her stop, and she gathered her bag, ready to spring to her feet and push her way to the exit. She stared out the window, watching a beautiful blonde woman kiss her lover. Her arms wound around his neck and he, in turn, held her tight, his hands resting on her butt.

They pulled apart and walked past the bus.

Maggie let out a pained cry of horror.

Connor
.

That was Connor. How long had he been seeing her?

The bus left them behind, pulling in at Maggie’s stop. In a daze, she pushed her way down the crowded aisle and stepped off the bus.

The doubt demons in her mind stood up and shouted at her.
It wouldn’t last
.

Like an automaton, she made her way into the accounting offices of Barker & Johnson, catching the elevator to her floor. In the privacy of her cubicle, she went through the motions. Answering the phone. Coding bank statements. Analyzing accounts. She worked through her morning tea break, emerging only when her stomach started gnawing at her backbone.

In the lunchroom, the first people she saw were Susan and Christina. They saw her and looked away in a measured snub. Her cheeks heated and tears prickled at her eyes. Obviously, they weren’t ready to talk. Swallowing, she paid for her sandwich and left the building, deciding a walk about the Viaduct Basin might help.

People crowded the waterfront, a school group spilling from a bus into the Martine Museum. The pubs and restaurants overlooking the boats moored at the Viaduct were full with the lunchtime crowd. A raucous seagull perched on a railing, squawking at a rival.

“Maggie, wait!” Connor ran to catch up with her, a brilliant smile lighting his blue eyes.

“Connor,” she said, feeling dead inside.

He frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.” Her heart raced while she struggled to find the words to sever their relationship. Insecurity tore at her, robbing her of speech. She couldn’t believe he’d made love to her so sweetly and there’d been someone else.
Fool
.

“Maggie?” He stopped her and placed his hands on both shoulders, surveying her face closely.

“I saw you kissing a blonde this morning. You should have told me there was someone else.” Her hands trembled and she clasped them tightly to hide the shake. “I think it’s best if we end our agreement.”

“This morning?” His frown magically cleared. “Oh, that was my cousin.”

A tight sensation in her throat forced her to swallow before she could answer. “A kissing cousin, I take it?” The intended quip didn’t quite come off.

“She really is my cousin.”

“Since our agreement, this is the s-second blonde. The one in the pub and this c-cousin.” Maggie hiccupped. “I don’t kiss my cousins like that. I can’t talk now. I have stuff to do.” She turned away and started walking. Tears ran freely down her face, but she ignored them, intent on escape.
Please. Please, don’t let him follow me
.

She rounded a corner and ducked into a busy pub she’d visited several times with her friends, and headed for the restrooms. For the first time today, luck was with her and she walked into an empty stall, locking the door after her. She grabbed a handful of toilet tissue and dabbed at her damp eyes.

He hadn’t followed her.

The thought dragged a sob from deep in her chest. She knew breaking up with him was the right thing to do. The right thing for her, even if it didn’t feel like it today. The lies and half-truths needed to stop.

Maggie grabbed more tissues and held them to her eyes, willing the tears to stop. At this rate, she was going to be late back to work. And the only good thing that could be said about that was that none of the others worked in the same department as her. She could avoid everyone without any trouble.

Half an hour later, feeling much calmer, she exited the stall and did a double take at her face. She looked terrible and didn’t have any makeup with her to fix the damage. She wiped away the raccoon eyes and did the best she could before heading back to work.

She passed a group of the young lawyers from the law office next door and overheard them talking about her spanking blog. Maybe Susan and Christina were right and all the trouble she found herself in started with her blog.

“It’s interesting,” a young woman said. “It makes me want to try it out.”

“I’d spank you anytime,” one of the men said. “Name the date and time.”

“Ew,” the woman said. “I don’t think so.”

Everyone laughed, their hilarity and comments following Maggie into the sanctum of Baker & Johnson.

To her relief, Maggie made her cubicle without meeting anyone she knew. Sighing, she picked up her pen and started work. This day couldn’t end soon enough.

Her phone rang around an hour later.

“Maggie, report to my office, please. Immediately.” Greg hung up abruptly before she could reply.

“Great,” she muttered, standing and striding down the corridor to Greg’s office. Things couldn’t get much worse. She’d talk to Greg, accept whatever assignment he wanted to give her and return to her cubicle. One hour at a time.

She tapped on Greg’s door and entered.

“Shut the door behind you and take a seat.” His terse tone made her look at him in surprise.

“Is there a problem?”

“The blog that everyone has been talking about for the last couple of weeks.”

Oh, heck. “Yes?” A note of caution entered her voice.

“You are the author.”

“No,” she lied.

“No? ‘By the time we arrived at the Italian restaurant on Nelson Street, my temper simmered. This particular restaurant specializes in great food and for entertainment; they have budding opera singers performing several live segments during the evening. Not only did I have to spend time with Mr. X, I had to put up with his friends and the opera. So shoot me. I like rock and pop. I can even listen to country when the mood takes me. Opera, not so much. It makes my head hurt’.”

He read the paragraph from her blog before he looked at her again.

“Are you sure it doesn’t sound familiar? I could have sworn I’ve lived through an experience very similar to that. Doesn’t it sound like Toto to you?”

Maggie raised her head and glared at him. “I don’t think so. There must be hundreds of restaurants in Auckland.”

“Then what about this part? ‘If I wanted you to look at my breasts, I’d take off my clothes. Give you a good look at them. I’d even supply a tape measure so you could see if they measure up.’ Do you recognize that part?”

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 routine 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.