An Office Interlude

Jilliane Scott chewed her lower lip as she sat at the worktable in Professor O'Neill's office and scanned her computer screen. Fifteen feet away, behind his wide, oaken desk, Professor Devlin O'Neill, MA, Lit.D., typed away at another computer. A fire crackled in the hearth while late-season snow drifted past the wide bay window.

"Devlin?"

"Hm?"

"I was just checking over your latest novel and I have a question."

The ancient, roll-around desk chair squeaked as he turned to look at her.

"You told me you were going to work on the new website, Jill."

"I finished it, so now I'm ...."

"You what?" He stood and strode across the room. "It's done already?"

"Well, yeah. So I was just ...."

"I thought you were still aggravated with the JavaScript code that didn't work."

"I fixed that, but what I want to know is ...."

"That's wonderful!" he said, and kissed her cheek. "I'm so proud of you!"

Jill blushed, just a little, and smiled. "Thanks. But about this manuscript. How come ...?"

"May I see it? Does the scrolling status bar work now? Why don't you sign on and ...?"

"Devlin!"

His eyes widened and he stared at her. "What is it, dear?"

"I'll show you the site in a minute, OK? But I really have to ask you about something in the novel."

"Sure. Anything."

"Well, you know how you're always telling me not to redundantly say the same things over and over again when I write my stories?"

Devlin smiled and leaned against the worktable. "Yes, I seem to recall something of the sort. Why?"

"Look at this." She pointed an accusatory finger at the screen where she had highlighted a dozen words in red. "The same word, over and over and over and over and over and ...."

He scowled. "Jilliane! Yes, I see it. The word is 'said.' So?"

Jill pouted and crossed her arms. "Well, how come you get to do that and I don't? It's not fair!"

Devlin shook his head. "First of all, young lady, you do not take that tone with me. If you have a question I will be happy to answer it. But when you agreed to sit in for Teresa while she is out of town, you were informed that I won't stand for petulance from my office assistant, were you not?"

"But I'm not being petulant!" Jill said, and stomped her foot.

He pushed away from the table, straightened his spine and jammed his fists into his hips. Jill blinked up at him and chewed her lower lip.

"I should like to know exactly what you call that little outburst, young lady!"

"Um. What little outburst? Sir?"

He crossed his arms and shook his head. "I believe you've been working too hard, dear. Perhaps you should take a break. Why don't you toast some English muffins for us?"

"Yeah. OK. I'll make one for you, but I'm not really hungry."

Devlin leaned over and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead.

"Are you all right? You ate almost nothing for lunch."

"I'm fine. Just a little tummy ache, that's all. Do you want tea with your muffin?"

He took her hand. "Stand up, dearest."

She drew a deep breath, pushed back her chair, then grimaced as she stood to face him. Her free hand pressed against her middle of its own accord and she blinked hard twice.

"Straighten your back, Jill."

"It is straight, Devlin!"

He shook his head. "How long have you had this 'little tummy ache?'"

"Just ... a couple of days."

"I see. And when did you plan to tell me you were ill?"

"But I'm not, Devlin! It's just ... well, all the aggravation from loading the site, and ... um, then you wanted that manuscript proofed by Monday, I just ...."

"Jill, for crying out loud! You know I never meant for this job to threaten your health. I don't pay you enough for that."

"You don't pay me anything, Devlin."

"Exactly my point. Now. Go to the bedroom and lie down."

"But I have to ...."

"I'll save your work and shut down your computer. I'll be in shortly to take care of you."

She licked her lip and stared at him. "What ... what do you mean?"

He smiled, cupped her chin and kissed her. "I mean I'm going to make your tummy feel better. If you feel up to it, just go ahead and slip out of your things, then put my robe on. OK?"

"But, Devlin! I can't take my clothes off in your bedroom!"

"You can and you will, unless you'd rather I do it for you and smack your saucy little bottom while I'm at it."

"No! You know I don't want a ...."

She squealed when he propelled her toward the door with a sharp swat on the back of her skirt.

Jill slammed the bedroom door behind her, then blinked back tears as a wave of self-pity washed over her.

"Jilliane Megan Scott! We do not slam doors in the house."

Jill's jaw dropped as she whirled to face the door. She couldn't believe she'd heard him use her full name. Nobody knew her middle name. She never used it, and as far as she knew, it didn't exist except on her birth certificate and old school documents.

"That's not my name and don't call me that!"

"Of course it's your name. Don't be so silly and childish. Are you changed yet? You have exactly 30 seconds to get that robe on!"

"It's not my name and I'm not gonna put your robe on. Just let me lie down for a few minutes and I'll feel better."

Jill stamped her foot, then leaned forward and winced as achy waves swept through her stomach. She wasn't about to admit it to him, but she really didn't feel like doing anything but curling up into a tight little ball of misery. Her stomach twinged, her head throbbed, her back ached, and it even hurt to blink her eyes. Must be the flu, she thought as she moved towards the bed. She stood there a moment as she imagined how heavenly it would be to lie down and rest for just a few minutes.

"Your 30 seconds are up, Jill." The door creaked open as Devlin peered around the edge. "Young lady, why aren't you in my robe yet? If you're going to be my office assistant, you will have to learn to take orders."

Jill whirled around, then backed away as he came into the room. "I ... I'm ... I'm OK now. Really. I feel better. Really. I need to get a few things done and then I'll take the rest of the day off. I'll feel fine, tomorrow. Really. OK?"

He shook his head and pursed his lips. "No, it's not OK. You don't feel better at all. For Pete's sake, you're as white as a ghost and you're still clutching your tummy. Now ... do you want me to help you change?"

Devlin reached out to put his hand on her shoulder, but Jill cowered away from him and skittered to the other side of the bed.

"Don't ... don't do that. Please. Just let me go home and I'll be fine. Please?"

"Jill! What is wrong with you? I just want to help. You're in no condition to drive home, and I don't want you there alone when you so obviously feel bad. If you don't want me to help you get undressed, then I won't. But, please, just take off your sweater and skirt and put on my robe. I really can help you feel better, but only if you trust me. I won't do anything you don't want me to do."

Jill whimpered as she gnawed an already-sore fingertip. Butterflies galloped in her tummy and made it ache even more. In the back of her mind, she knew it wasn't the flu. She knew why she felt the way she did, and she'd read enough of Devlin's stories to suspect how he planned to make her feel better. The thought of him 'helping' her feel better was repellent, yet at the same time strangely attractive.

"Devlin? Please ...?"

"Please what? Please help you undress? Please leave? Please go suck eggs? What?"

Jill snickered. "Hmmm ... go suck eggs, huh? I'd like to see that!"

"Well, you're not going to see it!" He glared and jammed his fists into his hips. "Quit stalling. The sooner you get undressed and into the robe, the sooner I can help you feel better, and the sooner we can get back to work. I do have a deadline you know."

"Oh, well, rat tails! I forgot that damn deadline. Ummm ... I'll put your robe on and lie down for a few minutes. 'K?"

Devlin shook his head and huffed. Women! "Just put the robe on, lie down and relax. You might as well take off everything before you do. A bra and pantyhose can't be comfortable."

"Devlin!"

"For God's sake, woman. Don't you think I know what women wear? You have one minute to get on that bed. I'll fix you a cup of tea while you change. What kind would you like? Want sugar in it?"

"No ... just a packet of artificial sweetener, and black cherry tea if you have it. If you don't, then maybe just some 7-Up."

"At your service, ma'am. One cup of black cherry tea with artificial sweetener coming up. But ... you will be undressed and you will be in my robe and you will be on the bed when I come back. Deal?"

"Ummm ... well ... what if I just ..." Devlin scowled at her and Jill sighed. "OK. You win. In the robe and on the bed. Promise."

"Undressed, in the robe and on the bed."

"Yeah, whatever. Just leave so I can do it."

Jill's hands shook as she unzipped her skirt and let it puddle around her feet. She took off her glasses, laid them on the nightstand, then skimmed her sweater over her head. Blindly she aimed it towards a chair and shrugged when it landed on the floor. She kicked her skirt in the same direction. Shoes followed, then she picked up Devlin's velour robe. It felt soft and warm and held his scent as she slipped an arm into it.

She hesitated, sighed, then slipped if off again. Heaven only knew what he would do if she didn't take off everything first. In his stories and books, the women always got spanked. She knew he wouldn't dare do that to her, after all their discussions about it, but she also didn't feel up to verbal warfare if she didn't obey.

Her bra dropped to the floor as she sighed in relief. She hated to admit it, but Devlin had been right. It was tight and she felt better with it off. After a brief tussle, her pantyhose tangled around her ankles. She wormed one foot out, then used it to push the nylon off. Another kick and her pantyhose landed on the floor next to her skirt and sweater. One more kick and the bra followed. Jill slid her arms into the robe, tied the belt in a loose half-knot and sank to the bedside with a sigh. Now if only he'd just let her drink her tea and take a nap, things would be better.

Devlin tapped, then opened the door. The aroma of black cherry tea wafted into the room. His eyes widened as he took in the clothing scattered about the room.

"How do you feel?" he said.

"OK. Really. The tea smells good."

He walked around the bed, set the ceramic mug on the nightstand, then went to pick up Jill's sweater. She had to roll all the way across the king-sized bed to get the tea, then blew steam off it as she watched him fold her clothes and stack them on a chest of drawers.

"No, Devlin! I ... I'll get that."

"Jill, for heaven's sake, lie still and drink your tea. I have handled women's undergarments before."

She pouted. "Yeah, but not mine."

He shook his head as he searched the carpet. "All right. Where are they?"

"What?"

"Your knickers."

"Devlin! I ... I have them on."

She shuddered when he scowled.

"Didn't I tell you to get undressed?"

"Yeah, but ...."

"And didn't you tell me you would get undressed?"

"Yeah, but ...."

"Undressed does not mean half-dressed, young lady. Let me have them."

"Devlin, no! I ... I need them."

"No you don't. They are merely an encumbrance."

He stalked around the bed. Jill scuttled backward like a crab, toward the open door. Hot tea sloshed and splashed her fingers. A few drops dotted the blue satin duvet cover.

"Now see what you made me do?"

"Don't worry about that. It's Scotch Guarded. I'll get a cloth. You get those undies off. Do you hear me?"

"But I ...."

"I said do you hear me?"

"I hear you, OK? Geeze!"

He turned to the bathroom door, which was on the wall opposite the door to the living room. Jill set down her cup on the nightstand nearer the living room door and sucked her fingers. Water splashed in the basin. She couldn't see the apartment entry, but she knew it was there, and knew she could be out in less than three seconds. The water stopped.

"Jill, what are you doing?" he shouted.

"Nothing!"

"What are you supposed to be doing?"

"I don't want to! Why do I have to take off ...?"

"Do you want me to bring the hairbrush?"

She gasped, then giggled. "Why? Is my hair a mess?"

"That wasn't the end I meant to use it on."

He walked through the door, a damp, wadded towel in his hand.

"You wouldn't dare," she said, then moaned as a cramp seized the pit of her stomach.

"Your hair looks fine. It's your inside I'm worried about. You look like you just swallowed a sea urchin, spines and all."

He sat on the far side of the bed and leaned over to dab away the tea spots. She groaned and curled up on her side. Devlin shook his head, tossed the towel into the bathroom, then reached over to rub Jill's shoulder. She flinched.

"Ow!"

"You're tight as a drum snare. Why don't you roll over on this side so I can massage your back?"

"No. You come over here."

"No, because then I'd be between you and the door."

"Not if you sit in the middle of the bed."

"Jill, for crying out loud! Could we have just a little trust here? I can't give you a proper massage like that. I'd have no leverage without my feet on the floor."

She sighed and licked her lips. "OK. But let me see your pockets."

"What?"

"I just want to make sure you didn't bring that hairbrush with you."

Devlin scowled, raised an index finger, then smiled and shook his head.

"All right. My own fault for even mentioning it, I suppose."

He stood, removed his suit jacket and tie, hung them in the closet, then grinned as he pulled his trouser pockets inside out, front and rear. Jill giggled as he unbuttoned his cuffs.

"See?" he said. "Nothing up my sleeves, either."

"OK, OK. But don't rub too hard. They already ache."

She squirmed across the bed, lay on her tummy and stared over her shoulder at him. He sat on the bedside. Jill quivered and clutched both fists just above her bosom as he stroked both palms down her back in gentle circles. After five minutes, she relaxed enough to move her arms from under her, but she still kept her head turned so she could see his eyes. He increased the pressure just a bit and concentrated on the hard, twingey muscles above her shoulder blades.

"Mmph! Oh, Devlin!"

"Too hard?"

"No. Just don't do it any harder than that, OK?"

"OK."

He kept the same even pressure for another ten minutes. She stared up into his blue eyes. The eyes held steady as his head made short, slow arcs in rhythm with his hands. She groaned as his warm fingertips nudged between the muscle knots and made them relax.

"Better?"

Jill gasped. Her eyelids flew open and she jerked away when she realized she had almost dozed off.

"Yeah. Sure. Um. Lots better."

Devlin scowled. "Would you for Pete's sake chill up? How's your tummy?"

"Fine," she said, and stifled a moan.

"Yeah, right. Get your panties off while I mix a cocktail."

"What have my panties got to do with ...? Um. What sort of cocktail?"

He patted her arm, stood, and went into the bathroom. "A feel-better cocktail, dear."

She sat on the edge of the bed and watched him rummage in cupboards. He turned on the sink faucets and let the water run as he untangled a clear plastic hose. Butterflies in steel-toed boots clattered in her stomach and made the pain worse. She sighed, bit her lip, and reached beneath the robe to slide her panties off. Devlin hummed as he dribbled a teaspoonful of mineral oil into a clear plastic bag, then hung it on a towel hook. Jill quivered as she folded her undies into a neat square, then started toward the chest of drawers to put them with the rest of her clothes. A wave of nausea swept over her so she lay down and stuffed the panties into the robe's pocket. He turned and took a step away from the basin.

"Did you say something?"

"No. Just ... um ... what are you putting in there?"

"A little oil, a bit of Fleets, but mostly warm water. Try to relax."

He twisted the cap off a tiny bottle and emptied it into the bag.

"Devlin?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't put that big nozzle on it, OK?"

"What big nozzle?"

"You know ... the one you used on Gwen a few weeks ago."

She blinked when he twisted around to look at her.

"The douche nozzle?"

"Yeah. That's just for somebody who's been bad. Isn't it?"

Devlin frowned. "Yes, and you've just been a little angel today, haven't you?"

She pulled her knees halfway up to her chest. "Don't yell at me. I just don't feel good."

He smiled, shook his head, then turned back to the basin to fill the bag from the tap. Cloudy water sloshed in the bag as he walked to the closet next to the shower cube and opened the door. Tiny casters on the feet of a stainless-steel IV rack skittered along the tiles. Jill moaned when he set the rack beside the bed and hung the bag on its arm. It swayed a bit as he looped the clear tube around its top. He set a pile of snowy-white towels on the nightstand. She flinched when he sat beside her.

"Can you stretch out on your tummy, Jill?"

She wriggled backward, her eyes wide as a doe's. "I ... I can put it in myself," she whispered.

"Yes, I'm sure you can. But that's not what I asked." He patted the duvet. "Lie on your tummy."

"No! Th-thanks for fixing the enema and all, but, um ...."

"Jilliane Megan, do not give me a hard time about this. You can't possibly relax if you have to monitor the volume and worry about whether the nozzle stays in, and it's very important that you relax while the cocktail does its job."

She whimpered, then groaned at a new cramp. "I can so."

"Don't be difficult, dear. Come along."

"Where did you find out my middle name, anyway?"

"I thought you said that wasn't your name, and don't change the subject. Roll over this instant."

"Devlin, no! Ow!"

His warm, gentle hand nudged her back and she shuddered as he pulled her toward his hip. She clutched the robe at her throat and glared at him over her shoulder.

"Stop being silly, Jill. Can you lie flat?"

She pushed her knees down a few inches, wailed, then shook her head as pain burned through her abdomen. He nodded.

"OK. We'll try it with you up on your knees, OK?"

"No! Not OK! It's bad enough you just have to look at my bare fanny, but there's no way I'm gonna stick it up in the air for you to ogle at!"

Devlin gritted his teeth. "Young lady, I will not ogle at your fanny. I may, however, slap it bright red if you don't stop this nonsense."

"You do and you'll lose a few body parts!"

He laughed. "Yes, you're in fine condition to commit mayhem, dearest."

"It's not funny!"

"No. It isn't. But I'm afraid we're to the point that your choice is not between a spanking and allowing me to take care of you, it's between allowing me to take care of you and a trip to the emergency room."

"Noooo! I hate hospitals."

"Then quit squirming and let me help you."

She sulked, scowled, huffed, muttered savage curses into the duvet and continued to squirm while he scooped his arms under her and lifted her onto her knees. The pain subsided just a bit as her tummy shifted. He stroked her back while she panted. Soft velour caressed her tender, wriggly behind.

"Why are you being so mean to me?"

He rubbed her back and smiled. "Do you want a blindfold?"

She gasped. "What? No! What are you talking about?"

"Then stop acting like you're about to be executed."

"But, Devlin! This is so awful!"

"It can't be as bad as the pain I see in your face. Now just relax."

He opened the nightstand drawer and took out a tube of K-Y Jelly.

"Oh, God!" she said, and wiped a hot tear from her eye.