Red Notice

My new bedroom in Lady McQueen House -- one of the eight Victorian accommodation blocks across campus -- was quite something compared to what I'd 'enjoyed' in Colliers Wood, with an en-suite bathroom, kitchen, and even satellite TV and a birdfeeder dangling from outside the bedroom windowsill. Most importantly of all, however, was the double bed. I'd never had one before -- I could have cried when I saw it for the first time. In some strange way, seeing it almost felt like, yes, I'd really made it.

My first month's pay came early, appearing in my account on the Friday I moved in, and so I had spent a fair amount of time at a cash machine and staring at the big, fat £3,900 which hadn't been there before, taking up all that room in my bank account. I almost considered taking a photo to send to my parents. What, I wondered, was I actually meant to spend it on when meals and board were provided? In the end, I went online and ordered a lava lamp and an extra duvet -- I'd always wanted to sleep both on top of and underneath one. I'd keep getting my books from charity shops -- the element of surprise was irreplaceable.

The following day, I woke up earlier than I'd wanted, having not set an alarm for once, wanting to enjoy the warm vibes of a Saturday lie-in. Instead, the sounds of traffic and chatter from the corridor roused me, and in an instant I realised my mistake. Pulling on my dressing gown and tightening it so much my belly hurt, I peered from my window and saw, past the Recreation Grounds, that cars were lining up and disgorging people who swarmed wherever there was land. The students were coming back. Right outside the door, I heard them trooping by, many being helped with moving in by friends or family. Quickly, I threw on some more sensible clothes than underwear and a shirt with a smiling cartoon pizza, changing into dungarees, and went out into the corridor.

It was almost a maelstrom of people, lugging backpacks and suitcases and bedding and often sneering at the décor. There was more than one girl expressing wide-eyed bafflement at the lack of 'proper' kitchen facilities -- with everything provided in a canteen, there were just two microwaves for the whole floor. Stepping out, sheepish despite my apparent authority, passing as just another student, I watched them pass and this suddenly all started to become even more real than it had done before. I thought it was real but, wow, now it was real. Each and every one of these students were, in some way, my responsibility -- and any one of them could end up in my office on any given day of the week.

"Watch out, 'scuse me," said a girl, weighed down by a plastic box far too big for her, pushing by, and as she disappeared round the corner I regarded her pink highlights and thin frame and flowery top and imagined that, while the chances of her specifically ending up over my lap were small, they would never be nil. Unless she had an opt-out, of course, but that rather ruined the thought experiment, so I tried not to swell on it.

Walking down the corridor, past the shower cubicle where a small group were warily testing the water pressure with the head pointed away to the far wall, darting around and between different people and never really seen, I wondered if any of them would ever guess who I was. What I was -- and what, if they messed up, I could end up being. My stomach almost tickled and I dared to imagine there was a bit of glee at play. Then, I glanced over my shoulder to see somebody unlocking the door next to mine.

She was bigger than me but just as short, curvy, with olive skin and a big mass of curly black hair, dressed in jeans and a black jacket -- I didn't see her face before she vanished into the room dragging a purple case, but I supposed that must have been my neighbour. Ought I go and say hello, then? That seemed the politest thing to do -- shyness be damned. So, surprising myself, I picked my way between people and to the door, left wide open, to find her dropping her case carelessly onto the bed. Wow, the students had much smaller rooms... and single beds, I noticed with an internal smirk. I was just bringing my hand up to knock when she turned and stared at me.

"Oh," she said quickly, "...hi?"

"Hi!" I said, trying to sound as bright and cheery as I could.

"Hi," she replied, staring at me, waiting for me to say something other than 'hi.' I was having trouble with that -- she had an intense look about her, but her face, awash with dark brown freckles, seemed even to rest in a smile, and her eyes might have been fierce but they brimmed with life and energy.

"Uh, I think we're neighbours," I said quickly, though 'squeaked' might have been a more appropriate word.

"Oh, you're next door, are ya?" she asked, breaking out into a smile, approaching me quickly.

"I think so."

"That's so cool -- I'm Cherry."

"Kelly," I replied. "How, um, how was your drive up?" Great opener, Kelly. Real great.

"It was alright, it was alright," she said, as if we'd known each other for years, "flew back in a couple days ago, stayed in a Travelodge, then got a taxi in."

"Flew back?"

"Yeah, spent the summer with family in Trinidad," she replied. "My dad's side."

"Oh, that's fair," I said. What did you actually say to new people when you didn't have work to discuss? "I'm from London so it wasn't so far for me."

"Sweet -- yeah, it's not normally so far for me, I'm a PhD student so I've been here a while. Should really be living in a proper place but the rent's a killer in London, you know?"

"Yeah, definitely," I replied. "What do you study?"

"Archaeology."

"Oh, that's cool!" It was. "I didn't know they did that here."

"Honestly, feels like they do everything here," she said, pushing strands of curly hair out of her face. "Got this big dig going on in Sussex right now, looking forward to getting back to it. Was on Time Team a couple years ago."

"What's that?"

"TV show."

"Oh, neat; my sister was on Bargain Hunt, once."

"Well, clearly she's the real celebrity." Cherry laughed -- I tried to. "What you study?"

"Oh, nothing." Cherry cocked her head. "I mean... I'm staff, I'm a student officer."

"Oh, right!" she said, crossing her arms under her intimidatingly large breasts, knocking her hand against the wall which separated my room from hers. "Yeah, that's the big room isn't it?" I nodded and she laughed again. "So that's where we'll be having all our keggers, ey?"

"Well, maybe," I said, meekly. So much meekness.

"Yeah, no, there's always staff in the blocks, I think most of them live over at McLinnie House, maybe?" Cherry said. "At least, the ones who actually live on campus do. Didn't have enough room for you?"

"I was a pretty late hire," I admitted. "Only really started a couple days ago."

"Oh, that's..." Her eyes suddenly narrowed. "...cool."

"What?" I asked nervously.

"I heard there was an ad going for someone here," she said, and immediately I realised what was about to happen. I knew this moment was going to come -- I just didn't know it'd be so soon. Cherry stood with her hands holding either side of the doorway, regarding me, almost looking me up and down. "Everyone in the group chats was talking about it -- 'bout how they had to hire someone to dish out all the discipline. That wouldn't be you, would it?"

"Well..." Nobody had told me whether I was allowed to discuss this with the students -- and, thinking on my feet, I couldn't think of anything at all.

"Oh, Jesus is lord, it is, innit?" Her mouth opened into an almost inhumanly wide smile.

"It's not a big deal," I insisted, and she just laughed.

"Not a big deal!" she cackled. "You're the spanker!"

"That's... not... the official job title." Cherry was almost howling, before, still laughing, she looked one way and the other down the corridor.

"Right, come on, get in here," she insisted, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into her bedroom.

"What, wh-" I fell forwards, almost crashing onto the floor, just keeping myself on my feet as I held the wardrobe besides the door and Cherry almost slammed the door behind us. "You know, that's probably not how you're meant to behave to staff."

"What you gonna do, spank me?" she asked, sticking out her tongue.

"I don't actually have the authority to issue red notices," I mumbled, and Cherry laughed again.

"Sorry for the pull, but you don't want everyone to know about this on your first day," she said, unable to calm her grin. "Especially not when there's parents around. Everyone's an adult but they're still gonna be protective."

"Well..." I crossed my arms tightly, my face feeling flushed, "I'll probably never have to do anything, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, come on, surely people are pretty careful not to get a red notice, right? I mean... I know I'd do everything in my power to never get one."

"People get complacent," Cherry replied, shrugging.

"Did you ever... you know?"

"What, get spanked?" I nodded quickly. "Nah. And never will -- that's not complacency, I'm just well behaved, at least in public, and I do my coursework on time. That's all it takes. But a lot of girls ain't like that, are they? You went to uni, presumably."

"Yeah; St Andrew's."

"Nice." Cherry turned back to her case and flipped it open, pulling out books which she began arranging on an empty shelving unit under the window.

"Need any help?" I asked.

"If you like," she said, blandly, and I hurried to the case -- it was full of archaeology textbooks, which I should have expected, and old worn-down erotica, the kind of paperbacks with oil painting covers from the 1980s. "I read 'em for the story," Cherry said from behind me, and I heard the smile in her voice.

"I bet you do," I mumbled, looking at the extremely muscle-bound blonde man staring down a gigantic white wolf, two-handed bejewelled claymore in hand, and struggled to see the appeal. I scooped up a few and went to the

"So, you reckon you've got what it takes?" Cherry asked.

"To do what?"

"Don't play dumb, girl." I sighed as I slotted in the first book.

"I certainly hope so. It's obviously super scary, you know?"

"Well, I bet it is -- what you gonna do when someone decides they want to fight?"

"I guess curl up in a ball and cry," I said, honestly, and Cherry laughed.

"Least you're truthful with yourself. Can I be honest -- and I don't want it to sound brutal, but it might?"

"Go for it." I stood there, ready to take it.

"You don't seem like the disciplinarian type."

"No, I know," I agreed. "But maybe I'll surprise myself, I don't know."

"Maybe -- now, if, say, Professor Ellsworth took on the role full-time, then I'd get it. She lives for it."

"You think so?"

"Oh, come on -- she'd be doing it more than anyone, back in the day, 'til it tore her marriage apart."

"You don't say..."

"It takes a slightly messed up person to work here," she said, shrugging. "No offence."

"None taken." I thought, then, about Kam. "But I guess it takes a messed up person to agree to get spanked in exchange for a degree."

"There's more to the degree process than that," sniggered Cherry. "Well, I hope there is. But I've been here five years and I'm doing fine without getting spanked. Most girls get through it without ever getting a red notice, too. But when you get your first... I'd kinda love to see that, if I'm honest. Love to see what a girl like you is like when she has to be a dom."

"How come?" I regarded her with a touch of suspicion.

"Well, you're a sub, obviously."

"How do you know."

"Your vibe. You can sense it a mile off." I wondered if this was the vibe Nadine had caught, too. "I used to go to this kink club and, yeah, you remind me of these girls who'd come in all fresh-faced and wide-eyed, not knowing what they were doing there, but everybody else had 'em sussed out the moment they came in."

"Well, I don't really know what I am," I replied.

"Oh, really?"

"I mean, like..." Don't just say you like girls. That'll make the whole 'your job is to spank misbehaving girls' thing a bit more tricky to navigate once everyone knows. "Sub or dom or whatever. I've..." You do realise, Kelly, that Cherry is a stranger you just met, right? Why were you having this conversation? Somehow, through some force I didn't realise I had, I pushed through this, like throwing myself at a brick wall and unexpectedly going through it unharmed. "I've never, you know, had much in the way of any sexual stuff happen to me."

"And you're how old?"

"Twenty-two."

"Nothing wrong with that," Cherry said. "I've got a friend who's still not lost her virginity and she's thirty. She's also asexual, but it still counts." I laughed.

"Closest I got was kissing my friend at a sleepover," I admitted. "Bunch of people have forced their lips on mine at, like, parties and stuff, but I don't count any of that."

"Nor should you," Cherry agreed, looking at me with poorly disguised sympathy. "Well, you know what, maybe you're just what this place needs. Someone innocent to do the punishing. It's a bit of a paradox -- I like it. Who knows what you'll learn about yourself?"

"Maybe I won't like what I learn." She shrugged.

"It won't make you into anything you're not already. It'll just show you what you are."

After a while, having finished helping Cherry pack and having tentatively accepted an invitation to go out with her and some friends during the week -- she was, apparently, a big cog at the IT Society -- I felt the need to get out of Lady McQueen and wander. Crownbird Academy had come alive with the new arrivals and I was practically invisible as I wandered among them, the late autumn morning brisk and pleasant, and already some of the more impatient girls had already changed into PE kit and were running up and down the rugby field, tossing their egg-shaped ball and throwing painful looking tackles, their teeth appearing green or orange or black from the gumshields. I stood among the small crowd on the touchline, watching, wondering how I'd feel if boys went to this place, too. I supposed any discipline for them would be handed out by a male colleague. Maybe he and I would become good friends, I thought with a smirk, making a connection over our strangest of crossovers. "Would make a good book," I muttered to myself.

"What's that?" someone asked, a girl with long blonde hair, glancing at me.

"Nothing," I said quickly, and she went back to watching the game, as I suddenly remembered I hadn't yet showered and began fretting about my smell.

Glancing down the touchline, all the way to the end of the pitch, my heart somersaulted at the sight of Kam -- they were leading a column of students down the path between two fields, lanyard swinging from their neck, dressed in white jeans and a fuzzy rainbow sweater. Kam hadn't noticed me, being too busy giving their tour to the newbies, pointing out things of interest, and I stared after them, thinking back to our two little rendezvoused -- if you want to call them that. It made me nervous to think that nothing like that would happen between us again -- why did that make me nervous? I almost shook my head then, remembering people were around, didn't. Still... it was hard not to think of their body, their sly face, their sheer, almost unbelievable casualness. I wondered if they played on my mind so much only because they were the first person with whom I'd had that kind of experience here. Give it time, and it might happen plenty, with a lot of girls -- maybe, after that time had elapsed, they'd start to drift together in my memories until they become indistinct and uninteresting. Maybe it was Kam's character, and willingness, which appealed so much. Without that, when it just became my job, and the subjects uncooperative students, and the whole thing repeated day after day after day, the whole thing would stop being exciting. Maybe it was already that way for Kam -- and, when they bared themselves to me, it was the equivalent of a handshake. Somehow, I didn't like that idea -- but it wasn't supposed to be exciting. It wasn't supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be discipline. My job. Conflict brewed in my mind.

Taking my eyes off Kam, who still hadn't noticed me and was now leading their students away again, I went back to watching the rugby players. One by one, I tried to imagine them over my laps, how they'd behave, how they might struggle, but none of the images could become clear enough to be satisfactory, and after a while I left, wondering if it was fair to think this way about girls who hadn't -- as far as I knew -- done anything wrong, yet, and whether it was fair to hope they would.