The Carrot and the Stick

 

THE CARROT AND THE STICK

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By

C. P. Vanner

 

 

 

The Carrot and the Stick published in 2001 and 2006 by Chimera Books Ltd. Published as an eBook in 2011 by Chimera Books Ltd

www.chimerabooks.co.uk

Chimera a creation of the imagination, a wild fantasy

 

Digital Edition Converted and Published by

Andrews UK Limited

www.andrewsuk.com

 

New authors
are always welcome, or if you're already a published author and have existing work, the eBook rights of which remain with or have reverted to you, we would love to
hear from you
.

 

This novel is fiction - in real life practice safe sex

 

This eBook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The characters and situations in this eBook are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

 

Copyright C. P. Vanner. The right of C. P. Vanner to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

 

 

 

‘Do you remember our deal?' Richard Cross looked up sharply as he spoke. ‘About the carrot and the stick?'

Beth stirred on the comfortable couch yards from his desk in the big office. She tried to look unconcerned but felt her stomach lurch.

‘Vaguely,' she said. ‘Is that why you wanted to see me?'

He snorted. ‘Vaguely. You were quick enough to accept it when I waved the carrot under your nose at Christmas.'

Beth's fingers strayed to the top button of her blouse. How could she forget it? Some carrot; a diamond pendant in a gold setting on a long, heavy gold chain. She owned nothing more beautiful or valuable.

‘More carats than carrots, you will vaguely recall.' Sarcasm dripped from his voice. ‘Twenty-two carats in the chain and more than a handful in the diamond. That's quite a bunch of carats.'

Beth smiled, trying to ingratiate herself. ‘Of course I remember, Richard. How could I ever forget? I was only teasing you.'

Richard Cross ignored her attempt to lighten the tone of the conversation. ‘And do you remember why you got it?'

‘Because my figures were up,' she said.

‘And now?'

Beth could not meet his eyes. ‘They're down,' she muttered, wishing she was somewhere else.

‘Yes, they're down.' He leaned back in his chair, relaxed and at ease. ‘After the carrot comes the stick. I want you to report to me here after the office closes at six-thirty.'

Beth spoke hesitantly. ‘What do you mean by... by the stick?'

But Richard Cross had already picked up a folder and was studying it. ‘Here,' he repeated without looking up. ‘After six-thirty.'

 

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Beth sat at her desk staring out of the window. She was angry with herself, not with Richard Cross. How could she have been so stupid? The youngest and best account manager, and among the highest paid, in Cross, Carstairs and Denton and now she was in danger of blowing it all.

The sunny June afternoon outside her window taunted her. If only there was snow on the windowsill and it was last December all over again. The office Christmas party had been the best evening of her life. Richard Cross had made a speech naming her manager of the year. He smiled into her eyes as he opened the red velvet box containing the necklace, and looked down, still smiling, as the diamond pendant slid into the cleft between her breasts which were proud and firm and almost completely revealed by the low cut evening dress. Privately she thought the diamond belonged there, beauty complementing beauty. She felt his warmth and the slight caress of the back of his fingers as he fastened the catch behind her neck.

Richard Cross was more than her boss; he was her mentor. He was fiftyish, but looked younger and was the only partner still working. Henry Carstairs and Cautley Denton had seats on the board and appeared about only once a month.

A year ago, Richard called Beth into his office late one afternoon. Her nervousness soon evaporated. It had not seemed at all like the meeting of an office junior and the senior partner. He praised her work, told her that she had a future in the advertising business and said he was prepared to gamble on her. A senior account manager was leaving; Beth Forrester, still only in her early twenties, would be his replacement. Did she agree?

Did she agree? Beth was so overcome she could not find the voice to say yes. She nodded, aware of an inane smile on her lips. She heard hardly another word.

‘In this business we judge success by results,' he had said. ‘Half yearly results. You will be responsible for three accounts worth three quarters of a million pounds. Increase them, and that is success. If they decrease, that is failure. Do you understand?'

Beth was miles away. She saw herself in her new office, sitting behind her new desk in her new outfit. Not just one new outfit but lots of new outfits.

‘Do you understand?' he said again.

Beth had nodded. She had no strength and no desire, it seemed, to do anything but nod. ‘Yes, Richard,' she croaked. She used his first name shyly. Although it was office practice to use first names on all occasions, she had never said his to his face before.

His stern expression relaxed into a smile. ‘Beth, you are a daydreamer, which is good in moderation, and I have noticed you can be an idler, which is bad at all times. This is your big chance, your big challenge.'

‘You won't be sorry,' Beth had gabbled. ‘I shall...'

He cut in before she could go on. ‘I am going to make you a deal. We shall operate on the carrot and stick principle. If you do well you will be rewarded. If you do badly you will be...' he paused, ‘...you will be punished.'

Beth had stopped listening at the word rewarded. Rewarded. Her mind leapt off into a dozen flights of fancy. Bonuses. Holidays. Luxury hotels. Flights on Concorde.

‘Is it a deal?'

His stern voice brought her back to the present. She nodded again, a lock of her thick blonde hair falling over one eye.

‘Yes,' she had said eagerly. ‘It's a deal.'

As she left, Richard Cross laughed out loud. ‘I don't think you've heard a word I've said in the last ten minutes.'

It had been a laugh full of amusement and anticipation.

 

Now, locked in the executive ladies' loo as the office emptied out for the evening, that conversation of a year ago echoed in Beth's ears. But now all she heard was the word she had ignored at the time:
punishment
.

She looked in the mirror as she reapplied her make-up with unusual care and precision. But why? Was she going on a date or to meet Madame Guillotine? The butterflies in her stomach flapped their wings more violently now than they had done all afternoon.

She was glad she was wearing her smart grey suit and peach blouse. At the same time she wished she could go home and change. She wished she could go home and stay there.

As she dabbed scent behind her ears and in the V-neck of her blouse, she straightened her shoulders. Richard was right; she had let the company down. Just a month ago Tyland Brothers cancelled its account, worth a cool half a million a year. In one cold and casual moment, Cyril Tyland had cost her and her company more than double the extra business she brought in during the autumn, the extra business for which she had been so well rewarded at Christmas. If only she could go back one month, just four weeks.

‘Bloody man,' she said to the mirror. ‘Silly me. Silly, silly me,' she added.

She looked at her watch and was horrified to see it was almost six-fifty. She felt a knot of anxiety in her stomach as she headed hurriedly for the door.

 

‘If you care to submit your resignation, I shall accept it.'

At his words, Beth felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. Her knees were weak and she desperately needed to sit down, but Richard had not invited her to. She leant her fingers on a table covered with business magazines.

‘But...' she gasped. ‘But I don't want to resign.'

He looked grim. ‘You should have thought of that before you started losing business. I warned you that this is a rough trade. There is no place for losers.'

Beth shifted her feet but judged that this was not the right time to ask to sit down.

Richard studied her, leaning back in his comfortable chair and toying with an ornate letter opener. She thought how very attractive he was even when he was stern and unbending. Especially when he was stern and unbending.

‘What on earth has happened to you?' he said, and she thought a little of the ice in his voice had melted. ‘You're not the girl you were. You are not with it any more.'

She hung her head and shifted her feet again.

‘So you don't want to resign?'

‘No,' she said, truly appalled at the thought. ‘No, I don't. I really don't. Please give me another chance.

‘Please may I sit down?' she added, after a brief but tense silence.

‘No,' he said. The ice had not melted. He sat thinking for a moment or two.

‘You're dealing with the Rybix people, aren't you?' She nodded but he was already going on. ‘Let that be your last chance; bring in that account, or else.'

At his words she exhaled the breath she felt she'd been holding since entering the office. ‘Thank you, Richard.' She had to hold herself back from running to him and kissing his hand. ‘Thank you, I won't let you down. You won't be sorry.'

She turned to go and he let her get almost to the door before he spoke. ‘Where are you going?'

She froze in her tracks. ‘I thought... I thought we had finished.'

He shook his head slowly and deliberately. ‘The figures,' he said. ‘The last half's figures. You lost this company almost half a million pounds.'

‘I'll make it up.' She was holding her breath again.

‘You need something to wake you up,' he went on, ignoring her. ‘Now let's see. You brought in extra business worth two hundred thousand and you received a necklace worth seventeen and a half thousand. You lose business worth almost half a million so...' he appeared lost in thought, ‘...so what do I do?'

She hardly heard the question; she was marvelling at the cost of the necklace. She had no idea.

‘So what do I do?' he repeated sternly.

‘I don't know,' she replied meekly.

‘Carrots and sticks,' he said. ‘Rewards and... and what?'

She looked lost so he repeated it. ‘Rewards and what?'

‘Punishment,' she whispered.

‘Yes, punishment.'

‘So what is this stick you are going to beat me with?' Beth asked, cringing because her nervousness made her words sound cheeky. ‘A financial penalty? Extra work?'

Richard looked up sharply. ‘You think I'm joking?'

‘You're not?'

In reply, he nodded towards a carved drinks sideboard against one wall. In former, more pleasant times she would have already been invited to fetch the vermouth bottle and two glasses from one of its cupboards.

‘You'll find what you are looking for over there,' he said.

Beth was startled and flustered. Did he want her to get him a drink? On unsteady legs she approached the sideboard and noticed immediately the only thing on its polished surface. How had she not noticed it before? It was as thin and as sinister as a snake basking in the evening sun. A cane. A bamboo cane about four feet long, the dull yellow of the bamboo standing out clearly against the polished redwood. She picked it up as if it would bite and looked at him questioningly.

‘Carrots and sticks,' he said.

‘You can't... you can't mean...' Her voice was little more than a croak. She tried to sound flippant, to lighten the atmosphere. ‘What am I supposed to do, hold out my hand or something?'

He smiled faintly. ‘Or something, I think,' he said. ‘Not your hand but some other part of your anatomy.'

‘You mean...' She was again unable to bend her tongue around the words. ‘You mean... my bottom?'

‘It is customary, I believe.' He nodded to himself. ‘Especially for naughty girls.' She stared at him mutely, so he continued, without smiling. ‘If you care to submit your resignation, I shall accept it.'

‘But I don't want to resign,' she expostulated without thinking and then, a second later, realised what she had said. She had made up her mind without thinking. She would rather be caned than lose her job. She found she was still holding the cruel implement of punishment in her hands - and without another word she offered it to him.

As she did so something extraordinary happened inside her. Her body became disconnected from her brain. In her mind she felt only dread, even fear, but her body interpreted the situation differently. Waves of warmth began to ripple outwards from her groin, suffusing her from top to toe. Like waves hitting a rock on the shore, the ripples doubled back on themselves until she felt almost giddy. Her knees were even weaker than before and she thought she might fall. She realised with shame, amazement and an intense thrill that she was very sexually aroused.

So powerful were the emotions she imagined they must show and that Richard would read her mind. She pressed her thighs firmly together under her skirt. There was nothing she could do about the blush on her cheeks or the unusual brightness of her eyes. She wished she had time to fathom out what had happened to her. It was almost as if, by offering Richard the cane, she had unlocked a hidden passion. And with this thought came a sense of
deja vu
, that it had happened this way before and that it was right.

Richard was studying her closely. ‘Do I gather you accept your punishment?'

Beth held her head up. ‘Yes,' she said. ‘So long as it is administered by you.'

He nodded. ‘It won't be easy for you,' he said. ‘And it won't be over quickly. Somehow I have to work out a punishment worth double the value of the necklace. That's a lot of punishment.' He paused and then sat forward. ‘So here is what I propose; I punish you as often as I want, in any way I want, and at any time I want for a month. A month today it will be over. You will have paid your penalty. Is that reasonable?'