Under His Roof (7 page)

I’m blushing because honestly, those are both right.

“But, those are just guesses.” He leans back and doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Care to enlighten me? Tell me if I’m close?”

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Which, Rachel?”

“Both.” I’m afraid to look at him but when I steal a peek he is smiling and I am relieved. At least he isn’t angry. “I’m sure lots of clients fall for you.”

“It happens.”

“Probably you’re used to it?”

“Kind of.”

I’m fidgeting and desperately wish that David would be more of a conversation leader. “So… anyway…”

“I want to have you over for dinner,” he announces.

My eyes fly up from the table to his face and I can see he is serious. “OK,” I say, still feeling shy.

“Tomorrow work?”

I think through my schedule. Tomorrow. No.
Damn
. “I have a late meeting.”

“That’s fine. Friday?”

“Perfect.”

“Good. You know, I never do this.”

“Have clients for dinner?”

“Right. I… I want you to know that I would never want romance to get in the way of your discipline.”

He looks seriously concerned and I’m wishing he would stop saying that word.
Discipline
. “I told you that I think you fixed me,” I remind him.

“Yes.
However
, I believe you’re the type of person who would benefit from regular spankings.”

Oh my god he is trying to kill me
.

“So, my point being, if we don’t click romantically, you can still always rely on me to be professional with you. You won’t lose me as a disciplinarian.”

“And if we do click romantically?”

He grins and looks playful, like a boy who’s about to do a fun trick. “Well, then you definitely wouldn’t lose me as your disciplinarian.”

My stomach tightens. What the hell does that mean?

“We’ll talk about it on Friday,” he says, getting up and taking the final sip of his beer. “You can come over anytime you’re done with work.”

“All right.” I agree. He gives me a quick peck on the cheek. Then he's gone, back behind the bar. I signal to the young woman to bring me my check.

At home, I call Samantha. I’ve been better at keeping keeping in touch with her—for the most part—since what I refer to in my mind as the Day of Discipline. She’s all bubbly and excited because she’s off to the beach for a few days with some of our friends.

“I’ll miss you,” I say, and I realize I honestly will miss her. I really have improved.

She pauses. “Yeah, I’ll miss you too. Hey, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“What made you change back to being you?”

I shrug but realize she can’t see my body movements. “Don’t know. Just realized I was being horrible.”

“Hmm. I don’t buy it.”

“Why?”

“Because I told you that you were being horrible. So did some of your other friends. Anyway. I was just wondering.”

I decide to change the subject. “I think I have a date.”

“Whoa! Hold the phone! Rachel has time for a date?!”

I giggle. “Yeah. Friday.”

“Who is he? Some guy from work?”

“No… I met him… well, I met him online, actually.”

“Yeah, that’s more and more common these days,” she says, and I can see her nodding seriously on the other end of the line. Samantha in all of her dating wisdom. “Wait a minute. When did you meet him?” Her tone is slightly accusatory.

“Um… about a month ago.”

“Ah ha!
That’s
the change! I have to meet him, Rachel. Seriously. I have to thank him for whatever he did.”

“That isn’t it,” I protest.

“Keep telling yourself that. All this time, who would’ve thought. You just needed to get laid.”

“Sam! I haven’t slept with him.”

“Whatever you say,” she replies in a sing-song voice. “OK, listen, I gotta go pack. I’ll call you first thing when we get back.”

“Have an amazing time,” I tell her sincerely. Samantha deserves a great vacation.

When I hang up I cannot think of anything but my upcoming date with David. At David’s house. I'm wondering if we should have our date in more neutral territory. If we went to a restaurant, I wouldn’t be constantly thinking about that room down the hallway, to the left, where David spanked me.

And what exactly had he meant about dating me
and
being my disciplinarian?

I lay down on my couch with a glass of red wine and let my mind wander back to that afternoon session with him. How vulnerable I felt, but how right it all was at the same time. How he was so at ease and comfortable in his role. How he convinced me to take more than I thought I could because he felt I needed it. And how he was right; I had needed it.

When I returned home from that discipline session, I spent about five minutes studying the reflection of my ass in my bathroom mirror. It was bright pink but there were no bruises. I almost took a picture of it with my phone but felt too embarrassed.

It hurt to sit down for a day, but only mildly, and then that was it. No marks lasted more than twenty four hours. I was impressed that such pain didn’t have a longer visual effect.

A thought occurs to me and I sit upright on the couch, my eyes wide. What if David plans to spank me on Friday? I’m sure he doesn’t, but
what if he does
? I would prefer to avoid any awkwardness. So, I open up my laptop and write him a quite e-mail:

David,

I just want to make sure that we are clear that Friday is dinner. Not a discipline session.

Rachel

Two minutes later, he’s replied.

Rachel:

We’ll see.

David

What am I supposed to think of that?!

Thursday at work is painful. Not physically painful, but mentally exhausting. Secretary from Hell is clearly trying to make my life miserable. Even though I’m nicer than normal, I cannot help but snap at her when I’ve found she has mis-categorized about thirty of our clients’ files. I am on the verge of firing her when she starts crying and sniffling and my heart lurches at the sight.

“What’s wrong?” I snap, though I’m trying to be patient. “Why are you crying?”

“I just… I never do anything right!” she sniffles. “And… and my boyfriend just broke up with me… and I’m trying to be strong but it’s so hard, Rachel!”

Okay, okay
… Secretary from Hell is an actual human being. I must remember this. I send her home for the day after giving her a well-meant but awkward hug. I enlist the help of a temp, who actually seems fairly sharp, to re-categorize the files and I spend the rest of the afternoon doing boring check-in meetings with my team. Mandatory but, in my opinion, totally unnecessary.

In my mind I’ve already spent way too much time with people today but I still have a late dinner with a client. I put on earrings and thigh-highs and change into high heels. I try to look professional yet also sexy because this client likes to flirt. My cell buzzes as I drive to the restaurant and I see it’s my mother. Sighing, I click ‘ignore’. In spite of making time for my friends, I still haven’t quite managed to bring my family back into my life.

Mr. Lucas Gunderson is not on time, per usual, so I order a bottle of wine and pull out his file to go over the options we have organized for him. His company is launching a new advertisement campaign all over the county and he’s become my most important client.

“Rachel!” I look up from the files to see he’s arrived. A discreet look at my watch tells me he’s just fifteen minutes late. He’s gained some more weight, and his belly topples over his belt like it wants to escape.

“Mr. Gunderson,” I say, standing up to shake his hand. He pulls me in and gives me a wet kiss on the cheek. “How’ve you been?” I put on my happiest smile, like I’m thrilled to see him and can’t wait to catch up.

“Oh, you know, busy as always.”

“And the kids?” I like to bring up the kids. And the wife.

“They’re great.” He sits down and looks happy to be off his feet. “Pat is off to high school next year. Pretty exciting times! I’m hoping she makes varsity.”

“Tennis, right?”

“That’s right. My, you have a sharp memory. Are you this good with all your clients?”

“Only the ones who are as nice as you, Mr. Gunderson,” I say with a sweet smile, leaning in a little. Let the flirting begin.

Just then I see a figure I recognize at the front of the restaurant. David. With a woman.
Whoa
. An incredibly attractive, mind-numbingly beautiful woman. Blond hair spills down her back in perfect, shiny waves. She could be a model for a shampoo commercial. A gorgeous black evening gown with an open back shows off her slim figure. David puts his hand on the small of her back, leading her to their table. He’s on a date.

I am instantly jealous and angry.

“What’re you staring at?” Mr. Gunderson asks, following my gaze across the restaurant. I realize my mouth is hanging wide open and I snap it shut and turn my attention back to my client.

“Nothing. Sorry. An old friend.”

“Well, why don’t you go say hi? Go on, I’ll still be here when you get back.”

I shake my head. I would prefer not to say hi. “No, thanks. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, and we weren’t very close friends. Acquaintances, really.” I will change the subject. “So, I’m under the impression that you’re interested in changing our campaign a bit.”

“Yes, dear, but let’s not talk business yet. I want to know more about what’s going on with you.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes and continue the game I always play with Mr. Gunderson. I shoot sideways glances over to David’s table on occasion but as far as I can tell he has no idea I’m here. Finally, when the waiter comes to remove our dinner plates, I catch his eye. He smiles at me and waves.

I cannot be jealous of a man I am not dating. I will repeat this mantra seven times and then forget about the blond haired goddess.

Mr. Gunderson is on his fourth glass of wine and is getting a little louder than I like, but I’m still playing the game. I touch his arm. I make him laugh. I laugh with him when he tells terrible jokes.

I want to decline dessert and get on to business but he’s in the mood for tiramisu. And sherry.

“So no men in your life yet, Rachel?” he asks, grabbing my hand. His palms are sweaty.

I smile sweetly. “No, not yet.”

He shakes his head as if that’s the worst thing he’s ever heard. “I just can’t believe that someone hasn’t snatched you up. You really are a beautiful woman.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gunderson.”

“If I weren’t married…” He is still shaking his head sadly.

Now he is touching my leg with his foot.
Shit
. Gracefully get out of the situation. How.
How?

I see David heading our way with his date and I shrink down in my chair, praying he won’t come say hi. But he’s smiling and looking directly at me and is definitely coming to say hi.

“Evening,” he says as he approaches.

“Hey,” I mumble.

“Friend of yours?” David asks.

“David, this is Mr. Gunderson. He’s a client of mine.” I pull my hand away from Mr. Gunderson’s grasp and, while not happy to see David’s date up-close, at least this is a good distraction for my flirtatious companion.

“A client?” David’s eyes darken ever so slightly. But he is gracious and offers his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

I am trying not to look at the blonde. But she’s so…
right there
. And she’s tall, nearly as tall as David.

“This is my sister, Marilyn. We're celebrating some of her recent success at work.”

Sister! My mood brightens.

She smiles and I see the family resemblance. Her smile is calm, too. She says, “It's nice to meet you,” and offers her hand.

“Well, I can see you’re probably discussing business,” says David. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening, Rachel.”

“Right.” I look to Mr. Gunderson who is staring at me suspiciously. They leave us alone and I take a long sip of my so far untouched wine.

“I thought you said that man was an old friend. Not even a friend. An acquaintance.” His tone is slightly accusing and, if I’m correct, he feels hurt.

“Shall we move on to business, Mr. Gunderson?” I ask, trying to keep my tone bright. I cannot explain my lie so I decide it is best to change the subject.

The rest of our meeting is more business-like, though he does move too close for comfort as I go through our sketch-ups for his company. He accepts our proposal. I insist he take a cab home rather than drive, and after a bit of bickering, he agrees. As always, he gives me an even sloppier kiss on the cheek when we say goodbye.

With that out of the way, I go home and relax and daydream about my date with David. I cannot wait.

~6~

David

“Told you,” says Marilyn as we get into my truck after dining.

“I could have sworn they were on a date,” I reply, still not totally convinced. “Didn’t you see the way he was looking at her?”

“Yes. She’s a business woman. Some use their powers of flirtation, others don’t. Evidently, Rachel does.”

“How were you so sure she was on a business meeting?” I pull a twenty dollar bill from the glove-box and hand it over. I’d certainly lost the bet.

“Her outfit. It was formal enough for business, just a little too formal for a date. And she had a briefcase. And he is way,
way
out of her league.”

I shake my head and turn off toward Marilyn’s apartment. “Do you use those tactics with your clients?”

“Nah. Don’t usually need to. But sometimes I pop a ring on my finger before meetings with some of the lecherous types.”

“Good. Please don’t ever behave that way.”

“All right, older brother.”

After dropping Marilyn off, I contemplate swinging by Rachel’s to make sure she got home OK, but I realize this might be perceived as too protective, too soon. I'll send her an e-mail when I get home.

It’s been nearly a year since my last attempt at a relationship and Marilyn is thrilled. She could not stop talking about it at dinner. I’m happy, too, but also have my own reservations because I know what I’m like with women and I’m not sure Rachel will approve.