The Surrender to Win Addendum

By Jonathan Quincy Graves

{Note:  This story is a follow-on to a follow-on.  Meaning, where I intended to write one story, I ended up writing a series of three, this being the third.  While this story may be read as a standalone, it will all make perfect sense (to the extent any of my stories ever do) if you first read its antecedents. The first in this triptych can be found here: The Surrender to Win Ploy, the second resides here: The Surrender To Win Outcome, and, obviously, you have the third in front of you.  Enjoy!}

We were not speaking.

Sometimes, freezing out another person, refusing to recognize their existence, can raise problems.  As, for example, in the case involving a businessman and his secretary.  I’m John, and my secretary, Jane, whom I used to consider a friend, betrayed me—with malice aforethought, as they say—to my wife, Mary.  Don’t get the wrong idea. There was nothing of an illicit relationship between Jane and I.  In fact, it was Jane who introduced me to Mary.

No, Jane’s betrayal rested in the fact that she mapped out and sold me on a plan under which I would take control from Mary and end the bickering between us, thus saving our marriage.  When the negotiations were done and the ink dried, however, I learned I had been outmaneuvered by the women, and Mary now held complete control of me!  I even signed a contract that included punishments for failure to comply.  One thing Jane said to me was she would make sure I was “taken care of in the end.”  Mary’s hairbrush did an outstanding job of making good on that promise.  But, if you’ve read my accounts of all this, I need not repeat them here.  What I will say is I no longer trust Jane, I am not speaking to Jane, and she damned well knows why.

There was a knock on my office door (I keep it closed at all times now so I need not see the Judas sitting in my outer office), but speak of the devil.  “Come,” I said.

Jane opened the door far enough to lean in, and said, “Boss, I just wanted to remind you the report on Maximal Tilt and Limitations of the Gimbal System in Extreme Environments is due by close of business today.  Would you like me to type up what you have so far?”

“No, I’ve got it.”  There are always some words that need to be said, dictated by business relationships.  They need not be overly civil.  They need not include a pleasant smile.  And they need not be relayed with the addition of eye contact.  In this case, I answered Jane’s question without taking my eyes off my computer monitor, and continued to work on the report Jane is so eager to get her hands on.  The brevity and manner of my response made it clear she could withdraw, which she did.

It is becoming obvious I will not have the report finished by close of business today, but I’ll be well along, and I should be able to feed the Division Manager with enough bullshit—enough smoke and mirrors, if you prefer—to keep him off my back until next week.  I can finish it over the weekend on my home computer.

In the recent past, we followed a system for tasks like this one.  I would do the research, talk to the scientists and technicians doing the nuts and bolts of the task, gather facts and figures in disjointed notes and files and write the executive summary to set the tone for the entire report.  Jane would get the financials from accounting, gather the manhours from HR’s data, and assemble the report based on my input.  She did the grunt work; I provided all the creative input.

It’s no surprise to me, that when I do the complete task, it takes longer.  That’s common sense.  A secretary, any secretary, can type far faster than I can, and a good secretary is practiced at assembling bits and pieces to form the final picture as outlined by their manager (this portion of the task was proving far more difficult and time consuming than I expected).  Jane would snatch this job from me in a heartbeat, to prove I needed her.  Well, I don’t.  Anyone, even me, can do the grunt work.  I can, I will, and when I’m done, I’ll know exactly what the final product is without having to wade through Jane’s work, wondering if she sabotaged me yet again.

When Jane withdrew from John’s office, she was on the verge of tears.  John had not slammed the door in her face, but he might as well have.  And this was not the first time.  He’d been like this for three weeks, now.  Ever since she colluded with Mary to save their marriage.  So far, that seemed to be working, but in saving their world she seemed to have destroyed her own.

She had to do something.  She’d quit, but she loved this job.  She loved the people.  She loved everything about it, or at least she did until John began freezing her out.  She could ask to be reassigned, but John might not give her a decent referral, even though it was obvious he no longer wanted her around.

The situation had become more than she could bear.  She loved Mary, and in a platonic sense, she also loved John—the old John.  She didn’t mean to hurt him.  The path she and Mary took was the only solution they could see to ending the endless bickering.  Now, she wished she’d never gotten involved.  She knew at the time it was a mistake, but it sounded like fun.  Fun!  Damn, she wished she’d turned Mary down when she and her lawyer, Cynthia, first approached her.

Feeling a crying jag coming on, Jane bolted for the ladies’ room, locked herself in a stall and sobbed.  She had to do something.  She could not go on like this.  She needed help, and HR was not the place to take this problem.  She needed a friend to talk to.  She needed her best friend, Mary, but what if she caused all of their earlier work to come undone?  John would not forgive her for selling him out—which is exactly what she did—and then get him in trouble with his wife on top of it?  But she couldn’t think of anyone else.  There were others in the clerical staff with whom she shared a friendly relationship, but it was hard enough already to keep her problems with her boss from becoming office gossip.  There was Cynthia.  She’d been in on the plan from the beginning, and she was exceptionally clever, but Jane hardly knew her.  Besides, this situation wasn’t one a divorce lawyer could handle.  She needed to talk to Mary.

It took almost ten minutes until she had stopped sobbing, was done sniffling and thought she had it sufficiently under control so she could call Mary and not breakdown and start crying over the phone.  The numbers on her phone were blurry, but she rubbed her eyes and found Mary’s listing in her Contacts list.  She sniffed one last time, prayed her rough voice would not give her away, and made the call.

“Hi Mary, hey listen, could we get together for lunch or something this weekend?  I need to talk and don’t want to do it on the phone.”

…

“No, not at your house.  How about the Italian place where we used to meet in the old days?  It’s still there, and I hear it’s still good.”

…

“I don’t know.  Say 11:30 tomorrow morning?  They open at 11:00 on Saturdays and shouldn’t start filling up until noon or a little after.”

…

“Okay, thanks, Mary.  I’ll see you then.  Gotta go.  Bye.”

Jane almost didn’t make it through the call.  She took a deep breath and left the stall to check her face in the mirror.  She wore little makeup to work, so that was not a problem, but her red eyes would be a dead giveaway if any of the other women saw her.  Jane splashed some cold water on her face, dried it on a towel, took another deep breath, stood up straight and strode out the door and directly to her desk.  She would spend the rest of the day trying to appear busy in case anyone stopped by.

At the end of the day, almost to the minute, John’s office door opened, and he walked out.  “Good night, boss, have a great weekend,” Jane offered.  He did not look in her direction and merely grunted a response.  His briefcase looked heavier than usual, and she knew why.  The Management Assistant to the Regional Director called for him an hour ago, and Jane knew John must have given a negative report regarding completion of the project report he was working on.  No doubt he would spend Saturday and perhaps Sunday as well getting it done.  This would impact other tasks, and being late would become the norm for this office.

Friday evening traffic provided its usual long torture on the commute home for John.  He heard on the radio they set a record for temperature on this date, and he believed it.  His AC was out all together now, not even pretending to keep him cool, so he sat in a puddle of sweat as he inched down the highway, breathing the exhaust gasses of all the other mindless automatons doing exactly the same.  Lord, how he hated the city.

Mary greeted him when he arrived home.  Between her and the house AC, it was always a blessing to savor at the end of his day.

“How was your day, dear?” Mary asked.

“Typical,” John said.  “I had to bring work home for the weekend.  They gave me another of those tasks with an impossible due date.  It was supposed to be complete today, but I got an extension until Monday.

“Sorry to hear it, dear.  Don’t let it keep you from doing your chores this weekend.”  Mary gave John a list of chores each week.  Simple tasks like vacuuming the carpets, mopping the kitchen floor, scrubbing the bathrooms and, of course, all the yard and garden work.  She tried not to overdo her power over her husband, and she still did her share, but she saw no reason why she should do all the housework.  In fairness, John had always been helpful, the new system just made his help a little more focused.

“How is Jane these days,” Mary asked.

“Fine,” John said, “why do you ask?”

“I talked to her on the phone today, and she sounded strange.  Like she was battling too much stress, or something.”

“No, I bear all the stress in my office.”

“Well, I’m meeting her for lunch tomorrow.  I guess I’ll find out what the problem is then.”

Oh great!  John thought.  No doubt Jane will cry on Mary’s shoulder and fill her ears with stories about how I’ve been picking on her at work.  Well, I’m not picking on her, I’m ignoring her existence, but it would serve her right if I did pick on her.  “Whatever it is,” John said, “it has nothing to do with me.”

Mary raised an eyebrow, but John just shrugged in return.  John was still adjusting to the new power structure in their marriage, and Mary was being careful to ease him into it.  The gods knew, she could spank him every day of the week, and twice that on weekends, for attitude alone, but Mary did not want a slave for a husband.  And he seemed to be acclimating.  She was rather proud of how he was doing, although he still had a long way to go.  At least the bickering that marred their previous relationship was a thing of the past.

She was forced to take John over her knee three times since her initial introduction of discipline, but only three times was a remarkably low number.  She expected it might be a daily occurrence when they first signed their agreement.

Mary made dinner that night.  They shared cooking responsibilities, but she made it a point to cook most Friday nights because she was aware of how difficult John’s commute was on that day.  Neither one of them were in the mood for conversation.  Mary because she wondered what her best friend’s difficulty might be, and what John knew about it.  He had to know something. He was with Jane all day, five days a week.  John likewise did not want to talk, because he wondered what Mary’s best friend would tell her the next day over lunch, and how he was going to convince her it was not his fault.

John fixed waffles Saturday morning, and they ate breakfast together.  Mary cleaned up after.  Their system was whoever cooks does not have to clean up after the meal, provided the cook stayed on top of things while the meal was being made.

While Mary was in the kitchen, John went to his desk and unloaded and arranged the source materials for the overdue report.  When he talked to the District Manager’s Executive Assistant, he sensed the man was not pleased.  Apparently, his report was a key element in the report the DM was preparing for the CEO.  John hoped there would be no serious repercussions, but he knew if he did not have the report on the DMs desk first thing Monday morning, he’d be in deep trouble.

Mary sensed John’s stress level and left him to it.  She brought him coffee twice before ten o’clock, but cut him off then.  John was muttering about lost files and missing papers, and she realized additional doses of caffeine were the last thing he needed.

At ten after eleven, Mary was ready to go to her lunch with Jane, but stopped in the family room to see how John was doing.  He was not doing well, swearing under his breath and pounding on the computer keyboard.

“Take a break, John.  Get your mind off your work for a time and it will come together when you go back to it.  You know you need to vacuum today.  Do it now and let your report percolate in your subconscious for a while.”

“Could you do the vacuuming for me today?  I’ve got to get this done, and I’m having more trouble than I expected pulling it together.”

“No, John, this chore has been on your schedule all week, and you left it for the last day.  Do it while I am at lunch, and I’ll bring you something from the restaurant.  Expect me to check your work when I get home.  Don’t do a half-assed job, because if you do, you know I will not.”

John spent a moment puzzling that out, then answered with, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.  De-stress while doing your housework, John, it will help you in the long run.”

“I know,” John said, “have a good lunch.”

“Is there anything you would like me to pass on to Jane?”

“No.  Nothing,” John responded a little more curtly than he intended.

Mary paused in the doorway.  She was becoming more convinced Jane’s problem was with her husband, John.  And if that was the case, despite his claim to the contrary, a certain husband would be finishing his report standing up.

“Vacuum, John,” she said, and left the house.

When Mary arrived at the Italian restaurant, she spotted Jane in a booth in the far corner.  She smiled to her, but from halfway across the room she could see Jane’s eyes were red.  Closer, it became obvious she’d applied a little makeup to her nose to cover redness there as well.  Jane had been crying a lot, and recently.

Jane sat in the booth, her hands in her lap, trying unsuccessfully to return Mary’s smile.  When Mary reached her, she squatted and pulled Jane into her arms.  Jane did not respond at first, but Mary did not let her go and Jane finally put her arms around Mary and held on like a drowning person clutching a lifeguard.

“Oh… Damn,” Jane said in a quavering voice.  “I so did not want you to see me like this.  I didn’t know who else I could talk to.”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, darling,” Mary said, “whatever the problem, we’ll work it out together.”

“We can’t,” Jane practically wailed.  “It will only make it worse.  I can’t let that happen.  I can’t be the cause of… I just can’t.”

“Hush, now.  I’m taking you out to my car.  We’ll go for a drive somewhere quiet and more private where we can be ourselves, and then I expect to hear the full story.  Do you understand me?  If you are in this much pain, I am not letting you loose until you’ve got it all out in the open.”

Mary noticed a waitress who’d started in their direction, so she stood and faced her, keeping Jane shielded behind her.  “What have you got that’s good and can be put in a to-go box in less than five minutes?” Mary asked the waitress.

“Well, our customer’s rave over the lasagna, and it just came out of the oven.”

“That will be fine, can you fix us up with enough for two in a single box, include tableware, two large cokes, plenty of napkins and bring it to us?  My car is the silver Audi parked right out front.”  While Mary was ordering, she dug three twenties out of her purse and handed them to the waitress.  “If this is not enough, let me know.  If it is more than enough, you keep the difference.”

“Yes, ma’am.  I can do what you asked, but this is way too much.  Um, do you need help with your friend?  I’m asking because…”

“No, we’ll be fine.  Please get that order in.  We’ll be waiting in the car.”

“Yes, ma’am.  I’ll get it to you.”

“Come on, Jane,” Mary said, and helped her friend to her feet, across the room and out the door.  Mary opened the car door for Jane, put her in the seat and fastened her seatbelt for her, thinking, The more obstacles she has to overcome, the less likely she is to run out on me.

Mary stood leaning against the side of the car, waiting for the food and giving Jane a chance to settle.  She had never seen her friend like this.  Mary and Jane had helped each other rebound from bad relationships and months when Jane struggled to find the money to pay her rent.  This was different.  This was worse.

The waitress brought out an enormous bag with lasagna, salads and extra garlic bread along with two large drinks in a carrier.  Mary thanked her, loaded it in the back seat and climbed in.  She drove to a park with a lake, parking her car across from the more popular side where parents and children fed the ducks.  Neither said a word since leaving the restaurant.

“Stay right there, I’ve got a blanket in the trunk.  We’ll spread it across our laps and have a picnic in the car.  Then you can unload whenever you’re ready.”

“You’re too good, Mary.  I shouldn’t have called you.”

“Nonsense.  Now, relax.  The Lasagna smells wonderful, as does the garlic bread.  I think our waitress outdid herself.”

Mary got the blanket and the bag of food, sat back in the driver’s seat, pushing the steering wheel up and out of the way.  The waitress included paper plates and a large wad of napkins.  They started their meal in silence, but it was so much like the camaraderie of the old days they began trading memories and the car filled with laughter.

When they had done as much damage as they could to the banquet they’d bought, Mary put the lids on the food containers, moved the plates out of the way on the floor of the back seat and said, “Now, tell me.  Nothing can be that bad.  Not between you and me.  Nothing.”

“I can’t tell you.  I’ll ruin everything…”

“Stop it!” Mary practically shouted at her friend.  “It’s John, isn’t?  What has he done?”

“It’s not his fault, it’s my fault.  Please don’t blame him when things are working between the two of you.”

“I knew it.  What’s he doing to you?”

“Nothing.  He won’t do anything to me, with me or about me.  He ignores me, shutting me out.” Jane had not wanted to talk, but once started, her words tumbled out of her mouth almost one on top of the next.  “I can’t do my job.  He won’t let me.  If I do something for him, he ignores it and does the same thing himself.  Our work gets sloppier and our deliveries are later day by day.  He has a crucial report that was due yesterday.  I’m the one who assembles all the data, writes the body of the report based on the direction he provides.  But now, he won’t let me near it.  And it was supposed to go to the District Manager.”  Her last sentence was almost a wail.

“I’ll skin that man alive!” Mary said when there was a break in Jane’s eruption of words.

“No, you can’t.  It’s all my fault.”

“Nonsense.”

“It is.  I set him up, strung him along, then betrayed his trust when he thought I was on his side.  I never should have done it.  I should not have listened to Cynthia.  I should have refused to go along.  I betrayed the man who was counting on me to help him get his life together.

“John asked me once what was the worst thing that could happen.  I joked that the worst thing would be if you never spoke to me again, and he got me fired.  Now, I wish he would fire me, but he won’t.  He’ll wait until it’s too late and we will both get fired.  I talk to Rose, the District Manager’s Executive Assistant, and she has been trying to warn me her boss is considering closing our office.  She hasn’t come right out and said it, but her hints are clear.”

“First,” Mary said, when Jane paused for breath, “yes, you were part of the cabal that pulled the wool over John’s eyes, but you were only a part.  Cynthia mapped out the basic scheme, and I certainly played my part.  And what was the result?  You did John one of the biggest favors anyone has ever done him.  He was on a downward slide to lose everything he prizes in this life.  If we three had not gotten together to reverse the trend, he and I would have filed papers by now.  And he would have been the big loser in any settlement.  So, lose the guilt trip, it’s misplaced.”

“But it was still my fault, and now you are going to punish him, and that will make matters worse.”

Mary had to think about that one.  Jane might be right.  She was unlikely to come out a winner if John had even more to blame her for.  And he would blame her. His conduct at the office made that very clear.

“Alright, there may be a way to fix this.  Let me think on it overnight.  What I need you to do is to show up at our front door tomorrow morning at, say, eight o’clock.  Dress the part of the penultimate secretary.  Hell, you’re due a change in title.  Does Rose dress for success?  Does she look the part of the Big Dog’s Executive Assistant?”

“Very much so.”

“Good, that’s how I want you to look—competent, professional.  Put on a little makeup, not too much.  Hell, I don’t know why I’m telling you; you know how to look the part.  Oh, and find some eyedrops.  I don’t want there to be any sign you have been crying, or that you have been distressed in any way.  I’ll make sure the distress is in John’s court.  Now, can you do all that?”

“I think so, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to return to the scene of my crime.  That’s how John will see it.”

“You let me take care of John.  Oh, one other thing.  John has been cursing and swearing this morning, something about maximum gumball environments.  Do you know about that?”

“Yes, that’s the report we were supposed to have done yesterday.  The one that may get us both fired.”

“Okay, in what’s left of today, gather up anything you might need to help John finish the report.  Finish it in a way that will blow the socks off the DM and his EA, both.  Can you do that?  Do you know what’s needed?”

“I do those reports every day.  I know exactly what’s needed.”

“Good, that’s the attitude I wanted to hear.  I’ll take you back to the restaurant so you can get your car.  Then I’ll take the leftovers home to John, he loves lasagna, but I won’t tell him a thing about what we shared.”

“Not another surprise.”

“Oh yes, but a very good surprise, although it may take him a little time to recognize it.”

When Mary got home, the first thing she did was check on John.  He was still swearing at the computer, but his choice of swear words had gotten darker.  “Language, John,” she said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said.  “How’s Jane?” he asked.

“Fine.  We exchanged a little girl talk.  It was like old times.  Did you finish the vacuuming?”

“No.  I’ve got to get this report done.”

“After all my advice about de-stressing and backing away to provide perspective?  Big mistake, dear.  I’m going to get my hairbrush, I want you naked, in the corner, by the time I get back.”

“Mary, I…”

“Now, John.  No more excuses.”  Mary headed down the hall to get her brush, thinking, Good.  I so much wanted to have an excuse to paddle his butt for what he did to Jane, without laying it at Jane’s feet.  And what I told him was good advice.  His efficiency must be in the toilet, he is so wound up in that report.  A little hot bottom might help.  Regardless, he will not finish it today.

“Mary, I don’t have time for this,” John said when she came back into the room.  He protested, but he was standing naked in the corner as she’d told him.

“Time seems to be your problem, John,” Mary said, retrieving him from the corner. leading him to a straight-backed, armless chair where she sat and pulled him over her lap.  You didn’t get your report done on time, you didn’t do the vacuuming on time, you didn’t take the time to back away from your work to lower your stress and make you more efficient.  Well, I’m stepping in to help with all of that, first, by taking the time to spank this naughty bottom.”

Mary lifted her brush and let fly.  The anger she felt about how he abused her best friend all came out in the power and staccato rhythm with which she wielded her hairbrush.  The spanking she gave him was far worse than he might have expected for not doing one of his chores.  She didn’t care.  He deserved this and more.  She spanked him through the kicking, the pleading, the crying and well into the sobbing before she tapered off and let him up.

When he was sufficiently recovered, she ordered, “Into the corner, John.”

“B, but Mary, I…”

“Into the corner, and not another word.”

Mary spent the rest of the day keeping John off his computer.  He stood an extended corner time, then did the vacuuming, twice.  They ate an early supper, John had the lasagna, the “best ever” he said, and Mary ate more of the salad.  They still did not reach the end of what the waitress gave them.

When they finished the meal, John said, “That was great, Mary, but I’ve got to get back to work on that damned report.”

“No, you don’t,” Mary responded.  “You’ve allowed your tools and trash from your woodworking projects to take over half of the garage.  I want you to get busy cleaning all of your crap up.”

“But Mary, my report is really important.”

“No doubt it is, but you are not in the proper frame of mind to get it done.  Do as I say, or we’ll have a repeat of the lesson I gave you before dinner.”

John ceased his objections, and she could soon hear him slamming things around in the garage.  Good, she thought, let him work off his temper by doing something physical that needs doing.

When John finished his task in the garage, Mary inspected his work, found sawdust in the corners, and set him back to sweeping the floor.  Then, she sent him to the shower, and by then it was almost time for bed, so she put him down with the warning, “You are not to get up in the middle of the night to sneak back to your computer.  There will be dire consequences if you try to do so.”  He grumbled, but he complied.

In the morning, Mary fixed John breakfast, insisting a good breakfast would set him up for the rest of the day.  At 7:57, the doorbell rang.  “I’ll get that, dear,” Mary said.  “You finish up, then load the dishwasher, shouldn’t take more than a minute.”

Mary let Jane in and said quietly, “You look great.  The ultimate, competent professional.”

“Thanks, but I don’t feel great.  Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Yes, now remember, attitude is everything.  John has been trying to do both his job and yours.  Over the last few days, he’s realized he can’t do yours.  You’re the expert at what you do.  You need to put an end to his nonsense by helping him finish his report in the manner only you can achieve.  So deep breath…  Good.  Here we go,” and Mary led Jane into the kitchen.  John was drying his hands.

“John,” Mary said, “I’ve brought you some help.”

John turned to face them and frowned.  “I don’t need her help.”

“Yes, you do, and you will accept it with courtesy and grace.  Follow me.”

Mary led them to John’s desk in the family room.  “Jane, sit behind the computer.  John, pull that chair over and sit down next to Jane.”  They did as she directed, John sullenly.  “Now, John, what has given you the most trouble on this report?”

“I can’t find what I need in my notes.  Willaby’s input is vital.  He’s the Chief of Manufacturing Engineering, and I kind of remember what he told me, but I need his work to display the graphs and figures.  I can’t remember where his input is filed.  I’ve been through everything and it’s not there.”

Mary looked to Jane and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, let’s see,” Jane said, bringing the computer to life.  “You usually park his contribution under the heading, ‘Nerd Stuff,’” she added, sorting through John’s folders, “and… yes, here it is.”

“Of course,” John said, miffed at himself for forgetting.

“Now,” Jane said, “where’s the Executive Summary?”

“I haven’t written it yet.  I thought I’d do it the other way around this time.”

“Okay, no problem, what do you want to say in this report.  Where should the readers focus…”

That quickly, John and Jane were fully engaged and had forgotten Mary was there, so she slipped out of the room and back to the kitchen for another cup of coffee.  They kept at it, making steady progress.  At one point, Mary heard laughter from the family room, and Lord be praised, it came from both voices.  At lunchtime, Mary took them sandwiches and drinks so they could keep working.  She had to force them to eat, they were both so into what they were doing.

Jane stayed for dinner.  The atmosphere was light-hearted and convivial.  The duo said they only needed another hour to finish the report, and it was the “best damned report” ever written on this subject.  John was considering talking to the company about blurring the proprietary details and submitting the report for publication in the appropriate journal under both his and Jane’s name.

After dinner, Mary said she’d clean up and John and Jane returned to their work.  After the kitchen was ship-shape, Mary made a phone call.

Ninety minutes later, Jane and John walked out to the kitchen.  Their spirits were soaring.  Mary greeted them, as did Cynthia, Mary’s attorney.  “We were having a little desert.  Care to join us?” Mary said.

“You bet,” Jane said at the same time John said, “Okay” a little tentatively.

As everyone was cleaning their plates of the last crumbs, Mary said, “So, John.  Working with Jane paid off?”

“Absolutely,” John said.  “I never realized how vital and specialized her talents were.”  He gave Jane a big smile as he finished.

“And, having come to that realization, how do you feel about the way you treated her the past three weeks?”

“Pretty bad,” he said.  Mary could tell he meant it.

“Your actions were awful, wouldn’t you agree?  You caused her a great deal of pain.  Do you acknowledge that?”

“Yes,” he said.  “I’m sorry, Jane,” he added.  “May I ask a question?”  Mary nodded.  “Why is she here?” he asked, indicating Cynthia.

Cynthia smiled and answered, “I’m glad you asked, John.  At Mary’s request, I’ve prepared an addendum to the contract between you and your wife, to include Jane.”

“What?” both Jane and John said in perfect sync.

“This time, we want to make sure you do not feel you were tricked, so I will tell you what is in this addendum, and then you will read it for yourself before anyone signs it.  In essence, John, this contract gives Jane, with the concurrence of your wife, permission to punish you when she feels you have gotten out of line or are not living up to your potential.

“Jane will track your work performance to assure you are active and productive on the job.  The purpose of that clause is to see that you rise in the company, and you take Jane along with you.  Notice I did not say, ‘your secretary.’  Another clause in this document requires you seek to advance Jane’s job title from Secretary to Administrative Assistant.  We recognize you do not have full power to make this change, but you do have the power to propose and lobby for it.

“So, it’s pretty straight forward.  Here is the original.  Read it first, then sign where indicated.  If you give it some thought, you will realize that as with the original contract between you and Mary, we propose this pact in your own best interests.”

“Damn, here I am boxed in by not two, but three women.  We should hire a maid,” John said to Mary, “so she could be included as well.  Is this really necessary?”

“Not a bad idea about the maid, honey,” Mary said.  “Perhaps once you become a big shot in your chosen profession.  As for the other, you went for almost three weeks, doing terrible damage to your reputation at work, and inflicting serious pain on the one person who could have helped you.  Yes, I think it is necessary.  I would not ask it of you if I did not.”

John did read this contract, and made sure it contained what Cynthia said, which it did, although using far more words.  It seemed like every woman in the state was to be empowered to give him a spanking at the drop of a hat.  He needed Mary, though, and the first contract was the only way to keep her.  He could see that now.  And after today, he realized he needed Jane as well.  It seems I’ll have to surrender once again, John thought.  One or the other of these two women will be looking over my shoulder almost every minute.  Ah well, I guess I need that oversight.

“Someone hand me a pen,” John said.

John signed and passed the contract to Mary, who signed and passed it to Jane, who took the time to read it first.  It was both exciting and a little scary for Jane.  She is not as dominant a personality as Mary, but if she’d had this to back her up a couple weeks ago…  Jane signed and passed it to Cynthia who signed as witness.

“Very well, you made the right decision, John, I’m proud of you,” Mary said.  “Now, stand up, strip and put yourself over Jane’s lap.  Jane, turn your chair out away from the table.”

John was about to object, but Jane beat him to it, which gave him the time to realize he’d best keep his mouth shut.

“I can’t spank John,” Jane objected.

“You can and you will,” Mary declared.  “There’s no contract between you and me giving me authority over you, but if you do not spank John for what he put you through, or if you do a half-assed job, you’ll find yourself over my knee for a taste of the hairbrush.  And I will do a very thorough job.  Count on it.”

Jane looked at Mary, then stood and turned her chair out from the table.  At this sign, John stripped.  A female spanker and two female witnesses, John thought.  I’m not liking this trend.

THE END

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