I wasn't all that surprised when the next day 4:45 came and went without a word from Nadine. In fact, I'd anticipated that possibility: I knew that during our lunchtime encounter she had been taken very far very quickly, and that afterwards her first reaction might be denial. Which is why I was now standing in the parking lot outside her office building. I let a few extra minutes go by then entered.
It was only a five-story building, not far from the restaurant where we'd eaten the day before, and already mostly deserted this late on a Friday afternoon. I checked the directory on the wall for her office number. As I climbed the stairs to the third floor a few people in business attire hurried past me in the opposite direction, eager to get their weekends started, but all was silence when I reached her floor...
Except for a raised and somewhat strident voice coming from behind her office door. I listened for a moment to make sure she was talking on the phone, then turned the doorknob and entered.
It was a smallish office, almost severe in its orderliness and its lack of plants or decoration. One major compensation was the large picture window looking out over the town square with its tiny park and old-fashioned white gazebo/bandstand in the center. The blinds were half-lowered to soften the glare of the late-afternoon sunshine, giving the office a somewhat twilit feel.
Nadine's desk was at right angles to the door, facing the window, and she was at that moment sitting with her back to me, looking at the computer to her right as she continued her diatribe: "...and you tell that lazy bastard that if I don't have
all
the paperwork in front of me by noon on Monday he can forget about the closing until next month." She tapped a few keys on her computer. "That's right, I still need the inspection report, the appraisal, the..."
I closed the door behind me just a little more loudly than absolutely necessary. She turned to see who it was and her voice suddenly dried up for a moment. I waited to see how she would react. Her expression was frozen. But then she apparently decided to continue pretending that nothing had happened, giving me a fake-friendly smile and holding up one finger to indicate she would be right with me, before turning back to her computer and continuing her phone conversation.
Which was fine with me. Her reaction had confirmed my guess and the way she was dressed only emphasized it. Today she looked as though she was running for congress as a Republican: hyper-conservative navy blue suit in a heavy, uncomfortable looking fabric, with the skirt coming down to cover her knees; severe, plain white blouse, buttoned up to the neck; hair clipped into a bun at the back of her head and glasses settled firmly on her nose.
I made my way over and sat in one of the client chairs facing her desk, and was amused to see Nadine notice me out of the corner of her eye, shift the phone receiver to the shoulder closest to me and turn even further away towards her computer. Which is why she didn't see the plastic shopping bag I'd placed on the floor beside me...or what I took out of it and what I was doing.
She had no idea that anything was amiss until I stood, leaned over her desk, took the phone receiver from her shoulder and placed it back in its cradle. She turned to me, startled, then angry: "Hey, I wasn't fin-"
Which was when I seized her wrists and jerked her out of her chair, pulling her sprawling across her desk and sending papers flying everywhere. She was so shocked that she barely managed an "Oh!" before the edge of her desk knocked the wind out of her. But she was still quite conscious of the fact that I was slipping loops of rope over her wrists and tightening them, and she was able to see that the other ends of the rope were knotted around the front legs of her desk. Her head was hanging over the edge, her arms spread wide and her fingertips a few inches from the rug.
If she'd been thinking fast she might have been able to crawl over the desk and get herself loose somehow but between her shock and her inability to breathe, the moment quickly passed. She did manage to raise her head slightly and gasp, "Wh... Wha...?"
I seized the clipped bun of her hair and pulled her head up to where she could see my face. She hissed with the pain and her eyes were terrified. Her glasses had nearly fallen off her nose, so with my free hand I gently pushed them back up and settled them in place. Then I placed my hand on the side of her face and slowly stroked her cheekbone with the edge of my thumb until she settled down a little.
And when I spoke to her it was in a quiet, conversational tone: "Nadine, you've been thoughtless and you've been rude. I would expect a lawyer to know the importance of honoring an agreement." I was still holding her head up by her hair, and the pain was causing tears to run down her face. I continued stroking her cheekbone. "Now...what were you supposed to do at 4:45 today?"
She was beginning to get her breath back, though the pain was still making her gasp. Her eyes looked up at mine for a moment, then down at the floor. "C-call..." she finally managed. I gave her head a tiny shake to make her look up at me. "That's right, " I said soothingly, you were supposed to call the number I gave you. And you didn't do that, did you, Nadine?"
"N...no," she whispered. "I'm ss-sorry." She managed to hold my gaze - knowing that if she looked away I would only shake her again - as I went on, "And what were you supposed to say when you called?"
At first she shook her head slightly, as if reluctant to recall what she'd agreed to, but finally, through dry lips, gasped, "...Pa...pan...ties..."
I let out a theatrical sigh, then gave her head a vigorous shake to allow my displeasure to fully register before demanding again, "What --
exactly
-- were you supposed to say, Nadine?"
Her face went completely blank as she stared up at me. Then, still trying to catch her breath, was just barely able to whisper, "May...may...I... (gasp)...pleeease have...my panties...back?"
"I can't hear you, Nadine." I gave her head another little shake.
Sweat was already running down her face. She took another, deeper breath and opened her mouth: "May I..."
"Yes, you may," I interrupted, using my free hand to take her blue silk panties from my pocket and stuff them into her mouth. Nadine let out a well-muffled shriek, then quickly realized that she would have to devote all her energy to breathing through her nose if she didn't want to pass out.
While she was thus distracted I let her head down and released it. Then I took two more short lengths of rope from the bag and went behind her desk, shoving her chair out of the way. She shrieked again when I crouched down and jerked her left foot to one side, deftly removing her low-heeled shoe before tying her ankle to the rear leg of the desk on that side -- then shrieked even more loudly when I did the same with the other foot, forcing her legs apart almost as far as they would go and her skirt to ride up her thighs. She was now completely spread-eagled, face-down on her desk.
I rose to my feet again and spoke to her from behind the desk. "Oh, Nadine -- you are
such
a disappointment. I told you to call and ask for your panties back, and you agreed to do so...and you failed. Do you happen to remember my other instructions to you, Nadine?"
A rhetorical question, obviously, since she had no means of answering, though she did shriek again when I reached down with both hands and jerked her skirt up over her hips, exposing pantyhose heavy enough to repel artillery, and beneath them what were very nearly granny-panties: plain, white cotton briefs that came nearly up to her navel. She'd had a very bad reaction indeed to the previous day's events, apparently.
I took a ballpoint pen from her desk and clicked it open. "I told you
not
to wear pantyhose, Nadine." I pulled out the elastic waistband on her hose then used the pen to tear a long jagged rip in the seat. Throwing the pen down, I seized the rip in both hands and tore it open, then tore each side again and then again, working my way around until there was nothing but the waistband above her hips and tatters of hose hanging down around her knees.
She had shrieked again when she heard the first rip but had finally subsided into occasional whimpers. But that didn't last long, as I began swatting her behind - hard, and then harder - with my open palms, one then the other, to emphasize my next words: "...AND (
Slap!
)...I (
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)...TOLD (
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)...YOU (
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)...NOT (