Lacey was uncomfortable.

The dress she’d rented for the party felt alien against her skin, and static cling drew the material to her scrawny legs every time she moved. The faculty chair’s lavish house reminded her with every step of her less-than-impressive financial situation. But perhaps the most uncomfortable element was just how well Rae had adjusted to being the centre of attention.

 Nine months had now passed since Lacey had found the young woman sleeping on a bus station bench and had invited her home. Lacey’s kindness had soon backfired on her, as Rae had no prospects or motivation, nor did she have any interest in leaving once she’d settled.

It had taken the normally passive Lacey several difficult conversations – and when those didn’t work, something more desperate – but Rae had made something of herself since then. She worked two jobs now, paid rent, and had never been anything but grateful to Lacey afterward. This was going to be their first event as a couple.

And Lacey still wished that she’d stayed home.

She took a sip of her sparkling wine, long since gone flat, and glanced around the room in a search for Rae. Even though her girlfriend was a good head shorter than most of the people in the room, the crowd she’d drawn helped mark her place, as well as the bright crimson she’d recently dyed her hair.

“So what do you do, miss?” asked Dr. Carver, an adjunct professor of medieval literature.

Rae finished her own glass, which judging from her glow was not the first.

“I host the club nights at the campus pub,” she said, “I’m a DJ.”

Her getting that job had surprised no one more than Lacey. It turned out that Rae’s largely mysterious history had included what she called an ‘informal apprenticeship’ with a music producer – it wasn’t something she could put on her CV, but it was just the thing that an ambitious pub owner with an expensive sound system and nobody to run it had been looking for.

And it was sexier than saying that she bussed tables at the Student Centre cafeteria, although that was also true.

It certainly impressed Dr. Mandelbaum, the department chair. “A DJ, you say? My youngest turns thirteen in December, I don’t suppose you do bar mitzvahs?”

“I’d have to ask Jason if I could borrow his gear,” replied Rae with a laugh. “Tell you what, I’ll take your number and get back to you?”

Lacey had never even spoken to Dr. Mandelbaum. She’d never dared. Rae flashed her a wink as the near-sighted academic clumsily entered his number into her Blackberry.

“Is she with you?”

Lacey sighed, recognizing the voice before she even turned around. Verna was the deputy head of Library Resources – a title of no particular importance but one that Verna wore like a crown. Her eyes were lined and her lips pursed in a way that made her look like a sour old crone, but she couldn’t have much more than ten years on Lacey’s thirty-one.

“We’re… still new,” she said defensively.

Verna sniffed. “I’m not sure it’s appropriate. You know the ethics office is already investigating Dr. Mandelbaum, don’t you? And she seems… young.”

“She’s not a student, Verna.”

“I believe you, but you have to consider the department’s reputation here.”

The department’s reputation was laughable – Dr. Mandelbaum could pass for a bearded Henry Kissinger, but it was an open secret that he’d been boinking his postgrads in exchange for recommendations.

Still… Dr. Mandelbaum had tenure, and Lacey didn’t.

“I’m not saying you need to break up with her,” Verna continued, somehow managing a sneer while trying to sound sympathetic, “But maybe it isn’t the best idea for you to bring her out in public.”

The sound of breaking glass made them both jump. Rae stood behind them, one hand clasping a champagne flute, the other clenched in a fist. Beneath her were the shards of a second glass – one that had been meant for Lacey.

Rae turned on Verna, her face almost as fiery red as her hair.

“I’m twenty-five, you piss-faced bitch. I never went to school here, I don’t even have a degree. If you’ve got such a problem with Lacey bringing her girlfriend here, at least be honest about it.”

If the breaking glass hadn’t drawn enough attention, Rae’s subsequent outburst had pulled in at least another dozen liberal arts faculty and staff, all of whom were now waiting on Verna’s next words.

“Ah,” started Verna, suddenly on the spot, “The department accepts and recognizes all concerns of our, um, LGBT members and employees …”

With the crowd distracted by Verna’s virtuous rambling, Lacey turned her own focus on Rae.

“Come with me.”

She grabbed Rae by the neckline of her dress and didn’t stop moving until they had some privacy in Mandelbaum’s cloakroom. Only then did she dare to raise her voice.

“Oh my God. Did you just call Verna a homophobe to her face?”

Rae rubbed her sore shoulder. “It sounded to me like she was calling you a cradle-robber. Don’t tell me, she’s your boss?”

“My boss’ chief flunky, anyway! You don’t get it, Rae, there’s a hierarchy here. There’s tenured professors, full-time lecturers, part-time lecturers…”

“I get it.”

“No, you don’t, because there’s still four more levels before you get to where I am. I’m contract staff! The fucking janitor has better job security than I do! You think I like going to these parties, playing fucking politics?” She took a ragged breath, cursing herself for leaving her inhaler at home. “You need to apologize to Verna.”

“No.”

Still trying to catch her breath, it took Lacey a moment to register what Rae had said.

“Rae, this is embarrassing…”

“No, what’s embarrassing is hearing a stranger talk about us like that while you do nothing. You’re not at the bottom because of your job, you’re there because you’re a fucking doormat.” She snatched her jacket from the pile hanging off the wall.

Lacey could hear voices outside. Their private tête-a-tête was about to have company. She tried to signal Rae – but Rae was too far gone.

“If you don’t want me here, I’m going home.”

Footsteps sounded beyond the door. Lacey pulled Rae by the wrist.

“If you leave me here… you’re going to get another spanking.”

Rae yanked her hand back so quickly that Lacey nearly fell. She slammed the door on the way out.

***

What had she been thinking?

The thought whipped at her more fitfully than the autumn wind as Lacey trudged her way back home along Residence Row. Why had she said that? Why was she threatening a grown-ass woman – her own girlfriend! – with a spanking?

There was an answer to her question, of course, one that she didn’t want to admit. Because she’d tried it before, in the face of Rae’s messiness and freeloading, and it had worked. Maybe it was even a little satisfying at the time, but as far as Lacey was concerned, that solution could only ever work once.

But Rae was pushing it. She’d been out of line, and Lacey knew that she’d end up apologizing repeatedly for Rae’s behaviour. Rae deserved to be punished. Right?

Lacey almost walked right past her own house. Shaking her head, she opened the door and started to unbutton her coat.

“Rae!” she called, readying her argument, “Look, I took some time to think on the way back here. We were both wrong on this one. Let’s just call it even, okay?”

Rae didn’t answer. Maybe she’d already gone to bed… except that the light was on in the living room. Not the TV, though, which Lacey would have expected. That made it more likely that her first assumption was true—

No. There was no way that Rae could be both in bed and standing naked against the living room wall with her arms folded behind her.

“Rae?”

“You said I was going to get a spanking,” Rae hissed through gritted teeth, “I didn’t feel like waiting until tomorrow.”

The fury coming off of Rae was palpable. She’d left the party over an hour before Lacey had made her exit – had she been holding this pose all that time?

“Just go to bed, Rae. I don’t want to fight about this.”

“You don’t… you don’t get to scare me with these things and then change your mind. It can’t be an idle threat.”

“Do you want me to spank you?”

Rae turned her head slightly, just enough for Lacey to see hot tears in the corner of her eye. “What I want is to for you to thank me for standing up for you, because I know I was right. And you were wrong.”

Then Lacey remembered why she’d been so angry. Not only because of the way Rae had acted, but because of what she’d said. One thing in particular: You’re not at the bottom because of your job, you’re there because you’re a fucking doormat.

And the most infuriating thing was that Rae was right. Lacey had been a doormat for Verna, for the department – Hell, she was being a doormat right now in giving Rae an out after what she’d said and done.

“And if I don’t?” asked Lacey, her temperature rising.

Rae fixed her with a glare. “Then I guess I’m getting my butt blistered.”

“Yeah, I guess you are.”

Lacey marched over to Rae’s side of the room, grabbed her by her clasped hands, and dragged her over to the couch, her momentum carrying the naked girl over Lacey's knee with little effort.

The first time Lacey had done this, she’d been surprised by the noise, by how hard she had to work to make an impact and keep Rae from falling off her knees. This time, she knew what to expect, and she saw no reason to take it easy.

She slapped down hard on Rae’s flank, her girlfriend’s soft flesh wobbling from the exertion. Rae let out a high-pitched whine. Not a yelp, not a cry, not yet.

Well, there was time.

“Once just wasn’t enough for you, was it, little girl?”

It was a shame, really. Having Rae like this, submissively bent over and without a stitch of clothing on, showed off all of her charms – the soft flesh of her back twisting, causing her tattoo to shift, her short legs flexing and kicking. The way her fat little bottom jiggled and turned pink. This could have been a much more pleasurable night, if Rae had just held her temper.

Lacey’s arm moved like a metronome, up and down, merciless in its repetition. Rae’s body tensed underneath her, still refusing to yield, and Lacey began to worry her hand was going to give out before she heard any sign of surrender.

And then Prince Charming sauntered into the room, awakened from his usual naptime by the noise. He sat down in the archway, taking in the scene before him with wide-eyed interest.

Rae threw out her hand as if trying to push him back, but Prince’s eyes never wavered.

“Shoo! Lacey, make him go away!”

“If you hadn’t chosen this room to make your little statement, we could have shut the bedroom door and done this in private. It’s his house too, you know.”

Prince regarded her with what might have been a smirk.

His distraction also provided a welcome surprise. Rae had taken an inordinately long time to get ready for the party, and had left a trail between the bathroom and the front door. On the coffee table alone she’d left two lipsticks, a pair of nail clippers – and a hard plastic hairbrush.

Lacey hefted the brush in her still-tingling right hand, admiring its weight and balance. Underneath her, Rae struggled to see what had given her pause.

“I guess you’ve had enough?” Rae spat.

The crack of laminate against her backside quickly disabused her of that idea. The hairbrush struck like thunder, terrifying Prince Charming, who skittered across the floor and vanished into the hallway.

Rae gasped. “Wait, Lacey, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Sorry for what?”

When no answer was forthcoming, a second thunderclap sounded, then a third. Rae kicked out reflexively, her foot nearly catching Lacey in the chin. So, she was having an effect after all.

“You’re sorry for butting into my conversation?” she asked with another smack. “You’re sorry for insulting my coworkers? Maybe you’re sorry that called me a doormat, is that it?”

“Ow! Yes! Yes to all of it!”

“I’m not such a doormat now, am I?”

Rae could only shriek in response. Lacey felt a twinge of guilt, but her girlfriend had brought this on herself. The storm that had come to land on Rae's backside was one of her own making.

But if Lacey wasn't a doormat...

She tried to quiet the thought, but it still whispered to her underneath the cacophony of smacks and howls.

If Lacey wasn’t a doormat, why hadn’t she defended herself in front of Verna? And why was she so mad that Rae had? Lacey shook her head, but the intrusive thought held firm.

Because try as she might, she told herself, she would never earn Verna's respect. Rae just needed a little…

And the thought asked her, a little what?

The hairbrush clattered to the floor and rolled under the couch.

Rae must have had whiplash, one moment she was slung over Lacey’s knee, seconds from fresh tears… and then she was pulled roughly upright as the girlfriend who’d been spanking her suddenly collapsed sobbing into her shoulder. Lacey apologized profusely and incoherently, her words lost.

Once both of them had dried their eyes, Lacey made up as best she could, Rae kneeling on the floor to keep pressure off her bottom as Lacey worked her tongue penitently into her slit. The hard floor pressed into Lacey’s back, but it was a discomfort she willingly accepted, licking and probing Rae’s inner reaches, hoping that she’d be forgiven with an orgasm.

What felt like an eternity later, Rae signaled that she’d come and staggered off to bed. Lacey didn’t believe her for a second.

She’d fucked up, and she knew it. Laying supine on the floor, Lacey rubbed at her temples, reflecting on how much time and sweat she’d put into getting Rae to stand up for herself – and now, she’d undone all of it. For what?

Her neck ached, and she rose from the floor with a groan. She was going to make this up to Rae somehow, she decided, no matter what. They would talk like mature adults, they would establish boundaries and set mutual goals and all that other bullshit that couples who hadn’t met in a bus shelter were supposed to do.

And they could close the book on this spanking nonsense once and for all.