Big Red Makes Her Move

This is a sequel to the two other stories about kinky, divorced (and somewhat strange) office manager Lynn Fortier. She has been conducting an affair with one of her employees at her publishing company in New Jersey. He has some ambivalence about the whole thing and feels like he's being pressured by her. Well, in any case, that doesn't stop him. She is forty-one and he is thirty-four. The "Big Red" nickname refers to her hair color among other things. This is taking place in April 1989.

*********

It only took a few more days, but Lynn Fortier seemed to be getting friskier - and more careless - as time went by. At about eleven o'clock one Tuesday morning she appeared at my desk. As usual, she didn't go in for preliminary formalities.

"Hi Paul, I'd really like for you to go lunch with me today." The first issue was how bubbly she seemed to be getting. Her enthusiasm was increasing different from the truly reserved manner she had shown in the previous months I had known her.

It was like we were suddenly best buddies for no particular reason. Staff members never went to a meal with her unless it was as a group, a part of a larger company function of some kind. Individuals never went out with her.

That brought up a second, bigger issue: what would the rest of the staff think of me suddenly lunching with the executive director of the division? Supposedly I didn't know her personally at all. Of course, there were an increasing number of secrets we had to keep, like our bout of oral sex the week before, and the two sessions in which she had spanked my bare behind.

I must have been sitting there looking dumbfounded, but she was pretty good at picking up various social cues. After a couple of seconds, she knew what to say. "I get that it would be awkward for you to just walk out the door with me. People might see you getting into my car, even though it is parked inside the garage."

I found my voice, "First of all, you didn't even ask if this a good day for me. You just go around issuing orders."

"I already explained this. As the chief boss here I have the right to give instructions to my employees."

I thought, that doesn't mean you have free reign to act like an asshole, but I knew it would be impolitic to actually say that.

I didn't know if I have a choice in the matter, although I briefly thought about what would happen if I refused. I had seen her in her bad moods when the proofs and manuscripts were pouring in and the schedules weren't just tight, they verged on the impossible. Thus there wasn't much protest from me about the excursion. All I said was, "So where are we going?"

Lynn went into her somewhat pushy suburban matron mode. "I was thinking about Carla's, that Italian place on the other side of Clifton." That didn't seem like a bad choice, as the odds were very slim that we'd run into anybody from our company there.

She had a follow-up. "Paul, you worry too much." I worried too much? "There's nothing wrong with having a meal with the executive director. As I said, if you wish, we can drive our own cars and meet over there."

Perhaps that clinched it for me. "All right, we'll leave in about forty-five minutes, okay?"

"That would be splendid. I'll come by and we can go downstairs separately." She pouted her lips to send me an air kiss. My thoughts about her were not particularly upbeat at that point. You manipulative, kinky, horny old bitch, why are you inserting yourself into my life? So she had caught me jerking-off in her office. I supposed that caused a craving for some cock in her snatch. But why did it have to be my cock?

On the way over there I heard a song on the radio that Madonna had just released, "Like a Prayer." I had a superstition perhaps that a random song on the radio would give me a clue as to what was happening in my life, or what was going to happen soon. For this one, nothing came to mind. No premonitions clicked, but sometimes it took a while for the answer to become clear.

I did wonder if it was possible for the Madonna character to just walk into a police station and get a guy released instantly. "Oh, you were wrong about that; that wasn't him after all." I didn't know enough about legal procedures to say for sure, but I made a mental note to ask a lawyer or a cop about it - assuming I would ever know one well enough to bring up the topic. Didn't he have to have an arraignment first, for example?

******

Outside of Carla's, I took a moment to assess Lynn's appearance after she got out of her Audi. It was a mild day near the end of April, and she had one of her usual simple but elegant outfits. It consisted of a white blouse with small black dots on it, very tight black trousers, and medium-height heels. She had left her dark-gray blazer in the car.

As soon as I met her in the parking lot, she made a reference to her pants. She patted one of her hips and said, "You wouldn't know it from looking at me now, but twenty years ago I was a sylph-like college student." Her round behind did look very generous now when packed into her black garment. "I suppose I've put on some junk in my trunk over the years. Tell, me, do these pants make my behind look too big?"

That was one of those trite questions that I had heard so often before that I already had a prepared answer. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Lynn did laugh at my quip, as lame as it was, and she swayed her hips at me. "I bet you'd like me to fluff my backside against the front of your crotch. I think I could get you to come inside your pants within in few minutes."

She giggled - she seemed to be in one of her coy little vixen moods. That wasn't necessarily a problem as long as she didn't take it too seriously. Yet I already knew that, from her point of view, that our affair was gaining momentum. And yet, I couldn't help from imagining the fluffing scene. I liked the idea of ejaculating against the seat of her well-packed pants. Maybe I should lower my own pants and come directly onto the prominent back of her dark trousers. That would make an interesting contrast between my white semen and the black cloth covering her jutting backside.

She added, "I guess guys do make passes at ladies with big assess." That was another one I'd heard many times before. Thank you, Dorothy Parker.

We hadn't come all this way for some steamy flirting, and at the table, we talked about events in our company (still a source of annoyance for me) and various topics in the news. I remember the Central Park jogger case had just happened only a few days earlier.

Near the end of our meal, Lynn twirled her white wine in her glass and got to her main point. "So Paul, how is your marriage going?"

I thought she already knew about it all. "The same as usual. I thought we've talked about that before."

"Have you taken my advice and given her the firm spanking she deserves?" I guessed that this was really a pretext for some other subject.

"You and I have talked about that too. I wouldn't be able to give her even a playful swat on her rear end." Unlike Lynn's, Janey's behind was smaller and it was a difficult target to connect with.

"That's unfortunate." She leaned forward and said in a confidential tone. "I used to let my husband discipline me; we gave that up before our separation." I assumed she would have a follow-up, and she did.

"You see, when a spouse is corrected, both parties should enjoy it. For my husband, it was just a duty, a marital chore." What was that guy's name, anyway? "So finally, I just said, 'don't bother with it anymore.' And I think he was relieved that the task was taken away from him."

I couldn't think of a reply, but Lynn wasn't done yet. "Yet I still need punishment at times. It's my big mouth; I can be so bitchy, so insulting at times." She generally didn't reveal too much of that at work, although she was often rather cool and abrupt when talking to her staff. Her new perky self was getting on my nerves.

I dared ask her, "How about you? Did you enjoy it?"

Of course, she told me more than I needed to know. "I greatly enjoyed it. Richard had one of those walking sticks like I used I you, but it was longer." Why not just call it a cane? "My pussy would be soaking wet. No matter how much it hurt, I'd have to go and masturbate after getting that applied to my bottom."

"Did he watch you do that to yourself? Why not just have - ah, relations with Richard and simplify the matter?"

"He didn't believe that I deserved sex after being disciplined by him." I wondered what infractions this poor dame had done to deserve all that. If she wanted to tell me, I guess I'd find out when she was ready to talk about it. I was also beginning to understand why her marriage to that arrogant guy had failed.

Lynn had more important issues on her mind. "Anyway, Paul, this is where you come in." I wasn't exactly surprised to hear that. "My idea is this: tonight we will go into that unrented northern half of the building and you will inflict the correction on me I so desperately need."

"But you're the executive director here. I can't do that to you."

"Don't think of it as a boss-employee relationship. Consider it a pact of sorts between a man and woman." That wasn't what I wanted to hear, but as before I didn't think I had much of a choice in the matter. "Also, you might get some tips on handling that naughty wife of yours." I doubted that, but I didn't say anything about it.

I examined Lynn's face below her (enhanced, I now knew) bright red hair. She may have been pretty once, beautiful even, but now there was that harshness in her expression. I wondered what this woman was capable of doing if pushed hard enough.

It was worth asking, "How do you foresee this event going? I mean, what are we going to be doing, in the exact details?"

"Don't worry about it; I'll tell you everything you need to know when we are over there."

On the trip back in my Horizon, I thought of the Madonna song I had heard on the way over earlier. Yeah, that video wasn't the most subtle one out there. Weren't all those burning crosses - six of them I think - overkill?

A couple of lines did remind me of Lynn. In the midnight hour I can feel your power, and I have no choice, I hear your voice. It wasn't like hearing a little prayer, but neither was it demonic. It was just this suburban matron feeling her oats - being cocky and emboldened, and throwing her weight around. I just happened to be the guy on the scene.

*******

Just after lunch, I decided to talk to my direct supervisor, Denise Behrens. She was a tall and rangy woman - twenty-nine and she had two kids. She had been the one who had decided to hire me the year before, and I felt like I could trust her more than anyone else in the company.

When somebody hires you, I've found that there is always an unspoken bond between the two people. It was like a deal in which you each promised to support the other and make them look good. However, I didn't know how much detail to mention about the Lynn Fortier situation.

I sat in Denise's office in front of her desk and for a minute or so we chatted about work. Then I said, "Denise, I wanted to tell you something about Lynn, something that's been going on with her."

"That's strange because you don't report directly to her. Anything about you would go through Dan first and then to me. Does she have some kind of problem with you?"

I figured I'd be blunt and yet try to talk my way around the problem. Yet I wasn't clever enough to successfully do that. I said, "That's just it. She doesn't have a problem with me - well, she did at the very beginning - but it's sort of becoming just the opposite recently."

Denise looked confused for a moment, then she smiled and her face lit up. She wasn't stupid, that was for sure. "So, has she been making some moves on you?"

"It's gone way beyond moves at this point. Actual - call them events - have already happened and more will happen soon. I was wondering, has anybody else here noticed any of this yet?"

"I haven't heard anything through the grapevine about it yet. You two must be pretty careful about the whole thing."

I had to know something. "You don't seem that surprised, I mean as surprised as I had expected."

Denise leaned back and thought for a moment. "Maybe you have to be a woman to catch on to these things. Something about her being divorced for a while, I get the vibe that she's been very sexually frustrated."

I admit I was impressed with Denise's power of analysis, her ability to untangle these circumstances. Denise continued, "I don't think she'd feel comfortable picking up men at clubs or bars." That was well before online dating got rolling. "Her self-image is as a respectable lady but, let's face it, we all get that thump in our crotches at times. As to why she decided on you - I'm guessing that you don't feel comfortable talking about that."

I said, "Maybe it's just that I'm younger than she is. The thing is - I'm supposed to meet Lynn tonight in that unrented space at the north end of the building."

"Good choice, from her point of view. This is not quite the first time, for these acts? Well, you just told me it wasn't."

"The location is new, but, well, it keeps escalating. I feel like I don't have the power to say no to her."

"Your marriage is not going that well, is it?" I must have dropped some clues to her along the way because I couldn't remember bringing up the overall situation to Denise.

"Lynn knows that too."

"Yeah and, let's face it, you are not averse to banging some fresh pussy, even if Lynn is not the youngest chick around here."

I was shocked because Denise had brought up explicitly sexual topics with me. She was smirking, but I still hoped that she was a sympathetic listener. I almost told her about being caught masturbating in Lynn's office, but I decided to keep that to myself.

I still said, "Denise, that was a rather harsh thing to say about my marriage."

"But it's true anyway. Probably you should just go ahead and have this little tryst with Lynn. It wouldn't be the first time with her, as you said. I realize that's she's putting some not so subtle pressure on you to complete these deals."

"Yeah, and she always wants to run the whole act from beginning to end. She says that she's the boss and she gets to choose how each session goes."

"Where are you going for this particular rendezvous?"

"I already said this; that unrented space at the other end of the building."

"Okay, I can see why she chose it. There's plenty of privacy up there. Paul, I don't think any less of you because you stumbled into this affair. I know how, ah, persuasive - no, insistent is the right word - she is in her regular work life. I can only imagine what's she's like in more intimate settings."

She stopped to think for a moment and she said, "Look, your marriage isn't going well, as I said, and that makes you more vulnerable."

It seemed like I had taken enough of her attention and it was time for me to go. "Anyway, Denise, I appreciate your help on this. I know it's a kind of a sensitive subject."

"It's fine with me. Maybe you're actually the rest of us a favor, even if it is inadvertent. Some of that bitchy energy of hers may be flowing in a more positive direction now. That takes some of the pressure off of everyone else."

I had one last thing to say, "You know, for a married woman, you're pretty blasé about all this."

"What can I say? It's not my marriage that's in trouble, it's yours. I'm sorry I can't help you more. Just go with the flow and don't get caught."

*****

At the appointed time, I went up to the double steel doors that separated our wing of the building from the unrented part beyond and I knocked on them. I heard Lynn's voice say, "They're not locked. Come on in."

Beyond the doors was a large carpeted area that would someday contain numerous cubicles as our space did now. Empty offices lined the outside walls. Lynn was standing just outside one of them over to the right.

She was wearing her gray blazer and she was holding one of her English spanking sticks. This one appeared slightly longer than the one she had used on me. It didn't have the curved handle that a conventional cane would have. I noted her bright red hair, her somewhat intimidating face, her ripe body.

She gestured for me to come over to her. I pointed towards the stick. "Are you going to use that on me?"

"No, we've already been over this. You are going to use it on me. I've been a very - I'd call it a disagreeable boss, an insensitive leader - and I need to be firmly punished by you."

"But you're the executive director. This is just too weird."

"I'm more than my job title; I'm a woman, and I've been very bad as you know." Not for the first time, I started to have doubts about Lynn's mental stability.

She didn't give me time to ponder that, but she got right into issuing directions. "Now when you swing this stick, don't pull it all the way up and back. You don't want to kill me! Use your wrist action to swat me with it. That will hurt plenty, believe me."

There was an office with a desk and a single chair in it, and we went in there and closed the door. Then, without another word, she took off her jacket and put it on the chair. She bent over the desk and raised and presented the seat of her black trousers to me. Her pants were tight and her buttocks looked quite ample.

I said, "You do remember our safe word, right?"

"It's tuna fish, I haven't forgotten." Then she issued more directives. "To start with, beat me on the back of my pants. Then, I'll take those down and get more on my bare behind."

"And exactly how many of these am I supposed to give you during each phase?"

"Paul, that is for you to decide." Wow, she was giving me some room to consider my own options.

I swung the stick so that she could hear the noise of it going through the air. I must have picked up that technique from some spanking porn movie I had seen. All right, if this old bitch wants a good ass-whacking, then I'll give her one.

I issued no warning; I just rapped her on her backside - certainly not the hardest hit I could have inflicted on her poor ass. It turned out that she wasn't such a great submissive after all. She cried out, stood up straight, and grabbed her behind.

I used the same bullshit on her that she had used on me. "Come on Lynn, take your punishment like a big girl. I know it hurts, but at least try to stay in position."

She tried as best she could. I admit I was enjoying the sound of the stick cracking on her backside. It was also satisfying to see her behind gyrating in circles as I whacked her. She also had trouble controlling her voice, and she said a loud "ouch" each time the stick came down on her butt.

I was aware of the huge erection I had developed from these stimuli. It wasn't a surprise to me that I had gotten so stiff.

After some more of this, I was curious to see what the results had been. "Okay, sweetie, drop your pants, and let's see what I did to you." When she lowered her trousers and panties, it was surprising to see the red stripes across her pale flesh. Her trousers were too thin to offer much protection against the blows of the stick. I felt pity for her, and I was reluctant to continue beating her

She demanded it, however. "Please, give me some more, right on my bare cheeks." I figured I'd try to go easy on her and not prolong this part of the punishment.

It turned out that she couldn't take very much more. I think I gave her at least ten more strokes on the pale flesh of her rear. Then she collapsed to her knees with her hands on the desktop.

"Lynn, are you all right?" She looked up at me, and I could see tears running down her face. Not as stoic as I had expected, but I didn't say that.