We reached my old cubicle.  It contained two desks facing away from each other: one was mine, and the other one was Amy’s, the close friend of mine whom I (still) had a crush on.  Amy was working hard at her computer but looked up as we approached.

“Here, Jimmy, I want you to sit at your old desk while I’m gone.  Amy, can I count on you to keep an eye on him?”

Amy didn’t respond right away, surprised at the way Ms. Johnson was treating me.  But she snapped out of it and replied, “Oh … absolutely, Ms. Johnson.”

“Thank you, Amy.  I’ll be in and out of meetings ‘til at least 4:30.”  It was 2:40 at the moment.  “Make sure to keep an eye on him at all times; he’s been getting himself into a lot of trouble lately.”  She turned back to me.  “And no computer for you, young man.  Kyra told me that she had to ground you from all computer privileges, and I’m going to respect that.  Just sit quietly at your desk.  I expect a good report when I return,” she said, nodding in confidence to Amy and walking away.

Once the boss was out of earshot, Amy turned to me and said, “What was all that about, James!?  It’s like she thinks you’re a child or something!”

I looked into her familiar eyes.  With joy, I saw that she still regarded me the same as she ever had: as a coworker and a close friend.  “Oh, Amy, it’s been terrible!  Everyone in the world has been treating me like that now that I’ve shrunk!”  She gazed at me with compassion and grief as I continued, “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you again – you may be the last person I know who treats me as an adult anymore!”

“Oh, James, I can’t imagine!”  Still sitting in her chair, she opened her arms to me and pulled me in for a warm embrace.  Pulling me back, I saw a tear streak down her face, and it wasn’t mine.  “I’m so sorry for not recognizing you earlier, James!  Please forgive me!”

I was touched by her apology.  “It’s OK, Amy, I don’t blame you.”

Wiping her tear, she said, “So, tell me what’s happened to you.”  She gestured to my chair to suggest that I sit while I talk.

I wheeled it over to her and tried to climb onto it, but the damn adjustable chair was set at the highest height possible.  I recall it being actually still a bit too short at my old height of 6’6”.  But now the seat came up almost to my waist, and as I tried to climb on the wheels pushed it away from me, rendering me incapable of even sitting on my old chair.

“Oh, you poor thing!  Here, let me help,” she offered.  She held the seat back steady with one hand, and with the other hand she was about to hoist me up by my pants but at the last second realized what she was doing and stopped.  With some effort, I brought one leg up onto the chair and pulled the rest of my body up.  I sat on the edge of the chair with my feet dangling over the front.  She had to rotate the chair for me, turning it towards her own chair and pulling it closer.  Taking both my hands in hers, she looked at me tenderly and implored me to begin.

We talked for quite some time, maybe half an hour, as I told her many of the details of my life during the past two weeks.  Some of the stuff she already knew since she had seen me begin to shrink when I came to work last week.  But I told her about my daughter, Kyra (although it did indeed feel odd to me to think of her as my daughter; it seemed so long ago now that our roles changed) looking after me, about not being able to drive, about having to shop for new clothes, about people mistaking me for a child (something that Amy herself was guilty of!), and more.  But I left out almost all the details about what had happened between me and Kyra; I indicated that she was starting to boss me around and look down on me, but I couldn’t bear to tell Amy how horrible it had really gotten, how she made me call her ‘Mommy’ and spanked me, or even worse…

But I finished by talking about Ms. Johnson, how she had essentially just fired me, and what a bitch she was being (of course, leaving out the details of the spanking just now).  “Oh my gosh, I know!” Amy agreed.  “Every time she’s walked by here the last few days, she just grumbles about how much trouble you were in for missing work and how she should just fire you and blah, blah, blah.  And then she takes it out on me instead – it’s so unfair!  And even though she knows your situation, she’s still being a bitch to you!”

But then she saw it was already 2:50 and grimaced.  “Oh, James, I really hate to do this, but … she’s going to just kill me if I don’t have some results for my project by 5:00.”

“Oh … I understand,” I said, disappointed.  I had hoped to spend the rest of the afternoon chatting with my one true friend.

“Hey, cheer up” she said, patting my cheek lightly, “I’m sure we’ll get a chance to talk again.”  With that, she turned back to her desk and got right to work.  I sat there for a few seconds watching her tenderly.  My feeling for her were stronger than ever now.  She was just so wonderful in every way.

As I tried to turn back to my own desk, though, I realized I couldn’t do so without getting down and pushing.  But if I got down I wouldn’t be able to get back up.  “Amy?” I asked sweetly.

“Yeah?” she said without turning, still buried in her work.

“Could you give me a little push?”

She turned her head and saw my predicament as I looked at her sheepishly.  “One sec,” she said, turning back to her work briefly.  She finished writing her equation then put the pencil down with a ‘smack’ and spun her chair around.  Not wasting any time, she quickly stood up and grabbed the armrests, pushing my chair to my own (former) desk.  As she did so, I was treated to a breathtaking close-up of her body, far bigger than I was used to seeing it.  Her arms were like pillars on either side of me, her hair draped over her face within arms’ reach above me, her taut stomach and shapely thighs moving back and forth as she wheeled me over.  And, of course, her partially-unbuttoned shirt gaping open before me revealing a nice firm pair of breasts underneath, contained by a white lacy bra partially visible on the edge of my view.  She wasn’t nearly as stacked as Kyra, but hell, at my size, even her B-cups would be well larger than my hand could hold.

Fortunately, she didn’t notice my stares as she hurriedly pushed me to my desk and spun my chair around to face it.  “There you go.  Anything else?” she asked brusquely, laying her hand on my shoulder.

“I’m fine, thanks,” I replied.  She started to turn away.  “Oh, and Amy…” I added.

“What is it?” she asked, anxious to get back to work.

“It’s nice to finally have someone to talk to.  I’m so glad you’re on my side, Amy.”

She quickly patted me on the shoulder then withdrew her hand.  I heard the click of her heels and the squeak of her chair behind me as she sat back down and returned to work.

I sat at my old desk, where everything was just as I had left it.  I had a couple random doodads sitting around, some papers with scratch work pushed into a corner, and other random items.  One that immediately piqued my interest was a framed photo of Kyra and I, when Kyra was only 7 years old.  It was my favorite photo of us, taken back when the two of us were as happy as can be.  Our relationship was so different then: it was close, it was loving, and, most importantly, it was a father/daughter relationship!  Oh, how the tables have turned.  Even though it was making me gloomy, I continued to study the photo.  It was almost surreal: she was much smaller than me, barely standing as high as my chest.  But then I put two and two together and realized, even in this photo she was much taller than I am now.  I was the same height then as she is now in heels, but now I only came up to her stomach.  I held my finger on the photo to mark my current height and estimated that I only came shoulder-high to 7-year-old Kyra.

I shuddered and turned the frame face-down on the desk, hiding it from sight.  I did this a little too quickly, though, and it made a loud noise as it hit the surface.  I heard Amy’s chair squeak, and I looked behind me to see that Amy had turned her head and gave an irritated look in the direction of the noise.

“Sorry,” I told her as she turned back around.  She was normally very chill and laid-back when it came to distractions, but now she had a deadline to make, and in such times she would occasionally become irritable.  I decided to make sure not to distract her any further.

But it was easier said than done.  With nothing else to do, I spent the next 15 minutes bending a paperclip until it was as perfectly straight as possible.  Once my important and very useful task was complete, I just sat there blankly, unable to think of anything to pass the time.  I looked back now and then at Amy, having to lean out over the armrest since I couldn’t see over the top of the tall chair back.  Amy was typing furiously, and I could tell from her body language that she was becoming more and more agitated as her deadline approached.

I felt bad for her, plus I was bored.  “Amy, can I help with anything?” I asked.  We worked in similar areas of reactor physics and I was more-or-less familiar with the project she was working on, so I had a good chance of being able to contribute.

“No thanks,” she replied shortly.  I didn’t want to press the issue, so I just turned back to my desk.  Fortunately, there was a bug crawling across my keyboard: an exciting new development that would keep me riveted for minutes on end – Darn, it flew away.  I sighed out of boredom.

Then I had a thought: why don’t I just use the computer?  Sure, Ms. Johnson had forbidden it, but she would be gone in meetings for another hour at the very least.  And Amy of course wouldn’t mind; she understood my plight and wouldn’t dream of restricting my freedom like that.  I realized that I hadn’t had access to a computer in quite some time, not counting the severely restricted web access I had on the computer at home, thanks to Kyra.

The power button on the front of the CPU tower was out of reach, unfortunately.  I had to shimmy myself sideways, using my hands to pull me along the edge of the desk to get closer.  This proved to be no small feat with my measly biceps, but I managed to pull myself close enough so that I could lay flat on the seat and reach out just far enough to reach the button.

Success!  I sat back up and slowly pulled my chair back in position in front of the keyboard and mouse, having to pull them in much closer for my short arms to reach.  I waited for the computer to boot up.  But as it reached the desktop my speakers sang out in the familiar Windows welcome sound.

I heard Amy’s chair squeak behind me.  “James, maybe that’s not such a good idea,” she told me.  I turned around and saw a concerned look on her face.

“Oh, I’m sorry!  I forgot the sound was on; I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

She replied, as if it pained her to say it, “It’s not that.  Ms. Johnson doesn’t want you to use it, remember?”

I was surprised to hear her say that.  “But, Amy, she’ll be gone for another hour at least.  C’mon, she’ll never know,” I coaxed.

“But what if she drops by in between meetings?”

“I sincerely doubt that.  But even if she does, I’ll take full responsibility.  After all, it’s my decision, not yours,” I told her with a twinge of annoyance.

She was getting antsy to return to her work.  With a sigh, she put down her pencil and wheeled her chair over to mine.  She leaned over and lightly placed her hands on my knees.  I could smell her perfume and even feel the radiant warmth of her body.  She looked into my eyes with compassion and told me, “James, believe me, I know that you’re a grown man and that I can’t tell you what to do.  But,” she pleaded, “you have to understand that in Ms. Johnson’s crazy, screwed up head she sees you now as less than an adult, and thinks that I’m supposed to watch after you and make sure you behave.”  I started to speak, but she raised her hand and said, “I agree, it’s ridiculous, but I just know she would blame me if she caught you on the computer.  She’s just been riding me so hard since you’ve been gone, piling the extra work on me, and she won’t give me a break.  She’s been completely unreasonable – she has even threatened to fire me!”

I gave a sympathetic look and tried to say how sorry I was for putting her in that position, but she was talking fast, eager to get back to work, and I couldn’t get a word in edge-wise.  “But if she catches you on the computer AND I miss this deadline on top of it, she would fire me for sure!”  I doubted even Ms. Johnson would carry out that threat, but I kept quiet.  “So please, James, I’m begging you to stay off the computer.  It’s just for a little while.”

Looking into her sweet, pleading eyes, I really wanted to help her out and avoid getting her in trouble for my actions.  But there was still a small part of me that wanted to defy my ex-boss, and my ex-daughter, and log on despite their commands (provided, of course, that the chance of being caught was sufficiently low; after all, I wasn’t suicidal).  Plus, I really, really wanted to check my email and read some news from the outside world since I had been totally cut off lately.  I took a deep breath and prepared to defend myself once again.

Amy, seeing that I was about to resist her still, gave a pained expression and became even more antsy to get this conversation over with and return to work.  Nonetheless, I delivered my speech.  “Amy, I understand where you’re coming from; believe me, I’ve been punished more in the last week than I care to admit,” I started, playing the guilt card a bit, trying to soften her up.  “But, as you know, I haven’t been able to go online ever since my own daughter banned me,” I continued, throwing down another guilt card.   “If I could at least have some time to check my email, I would be incredibly grateful.  I promise I’ll be done in no time, before Ms. Johnson ever finds out.”

I could tell my appeal had had an effect on her.  But her impatience still seemed to get the better of her.  “I’m sorry, James, but this is just the worst possible time for me!  For goodness’s sake, I’m sure you’ll have another chance sometime to check your email!”

Against my better judgment, I stuck to my guns.  “But I may never get another chance!  Besides, I’m already logged in, and I’ll be done in no time.”  I turned my chair and opened up a web browser.

“Arrrghh!” Amy gave an exasperated cry.  “I don’t have time for this!  I give up; have it your way!  I just wasted 5 precious minutes of my time arguing with you.”  I heard her swiftly return to her desk and noisily thrust open a notebook, shove some papers in, toss it aside, and start typing furiously.  I had never seen her so pissed off.  My heart began to fill with remorse when I considered that I was more-or-less the one who caused it.  And I really didn’t want to estrange my only friend.  But since I already pissed her off, I might as well check my email now and make it up to her later.  Once she sees I’m logged off and she didn’t get in trouble, she’ll be in a better mood, I’m sure.

I opened up my email and found an exhaustingly long list of unread messages, some dated as far back as a week ago.  I skimmed through the subject lines, skipping many of the non-vital ones.  There were several from my boss that I didn’t even want to see.  I discovered that Amy had written two messages, which I did very much want to read; they were both quick but concerned messages wondering where I was and if I was doing OK.  I leaned over and looked tenderly at the woman sitting behind me and thanking the heavens for having her in my life.  But I quickly focused on the task at hand and sifted through the remaining messages.  I had about half of them left to read.

“Are you done yet?” Amy asked anxiously.

“Almost finished,” I replied.  I read an email from the utility company saying my payments for electricity and water were due Friday and were now late.  It saddened me to recall that last night I had yielded to Kyra such tasks as paying bills and managing accounts.  Now that I was also barred from my job, I was left with absolutely zero grown-up responsibilities.  How had it come to this …

Well, I couldn’t dawdle over this any longer; I had to wrap up these emails.  I saw another message from an out-of-town friend that had as the subject “Big news!  Respond ASAP!”  I opened it up and read, “Hey bro, long time no see!  Wanna come up and see the Bruins in the Conference Finals?  It would be a great chance to catch up on old times.  But tickets are almost sold out so I need a response fast.  Looking forward to it!”

The message was dated three days ago.  I clicked on the link he gave which opened another window with the online box office for the Bruins.  All sold out.  Damn it!  He was the most die-hard Bruins fan, and I was quite a fan as well, and I hated letting him down like this, plus it had been far too long since we had hung out.  I saw another couple follow-up emails from him to remind me.  I was bummed out.  I knew Kyra wouldn’t have ever let me go anyway, and I also didn’t want my friend to see me in my shrunken, adolescent state, but still I must have seemed like a really crappy friend for not even responding.  Oh well, just another thing going wrong these days.

While I was on the site, I at least wanted to check how the Bruins were doing.  I clicked the homepage and saw they were up one game to zero in the third round.  Nice.  But I had already tarried too long and moused over to my email to finish them up.

The rest seemed irrelevant to my life at this point, except for the very last one, sent half an hour ago.  It was from my physician, the one I had just seen a couple hours ago.  I clicked on it and started reading: “James – come to my house as soon as possible.  I am still willing to administer the antidote to you.  But only if Kyra doesn’t find out!  I have already left the office for the day but will be home this evening.  Please respond right away to let me know you are coming.”  He then wrote his home address.

Oh. Dear. God.  I suddenly froze up completely, my heart pounding furiously.  There … there was still hope!!  I could do nothing but stare at the screen in amazement, overjoyed at this completely unlooked-for opportunity.  I snapped out of it as soon as possible and hit ‘Reply’ to write a quick response telling him I would try to get there today at all costs.  I would run away from home if I had to.  Fuck my boss, and fuck Kyra; I would gladly take any punishment they could dole out if it meant I could put an end to my shrinking!

But alas, just as I was about to hit ‘Send,’ my chair whirled around and I found myself face to face with Amy.  She spoke to me with a mix of sadness and urgency.  “I’m sorry, James, but you’ve been on too long now.  I simply can’t let you risk my job any longer,” she said gravely.

I was taken off guard by the seriousness of her voice.  “Oh … OK, just let me finish this last email and I’ll shut it off,” I replied antsily.

She closed her eyes and shook her head in woeful regret of what she was now forced to tell me.  “No, James.  You need to turn it off, now,” she declared with finality.

I HAD to get this email out to the doctor.  I started to turn back, telling her, “Let me just click –“

My chair was halfway turned around when it suddenly halted.  I looked over and saw Amy’s huge hand gripping the armrest.  “What the hell is this!?” she exclaimed, pushing my chair aside as she rolled herself up to my screen.  “You were looking at SPORTS!?” she said incredulously, seeing the Boston Bruins page still up on the screen.  I started to explain but she immediately turned my chair to face her and grabbed the armrests on either side of me, her body looming over me intimidatingly.  “James!  I … I TRUSTED you to finish as soon as possible – but here you are screwing around!  I should have never let you on in the first place!”

She released one hand and reached under the far end of my desk, dragging me along with her as she wheeled over.  She was reaching for the power button!  As she pulled me towards the mouse, I frantically reached out to try to click the ‘Send’ button.  Just one click away from delivering the message … but it was too late.  The screen went dark.

“It stays off,” she informed me sternly as she pushed herself back to her desk.  I sat there in shock, trying to cope with what had just happened.  But I didn’t have time to recover before I saw an unwelcome face appear in front of the cubicle.  Ms. Johnson had returned.

“Everything alright here?” she asked, just as Amy reached her desk.  Ms. Johnson scanned both our faces and suspected that something was up.  “Amy, has Jimmy been behaving himself?”

Amy hesitated as she looked at her boss and then at me.  Then she sighed and said, “Yes, he’s just fine, Ms. Johnson,” to my relief.

Ms. Johnson eyed both of us skeptically for a moment but then replied, “Well, alright then.  I’ll be back in a while to check on you.  And remember, Amy, 5:00,” she told her, tapping her watch.  She walked away and Amy and I both let out a loud sigh of relief.  Amy then shook her head at me and gave a look to say, ‘I told you so.’

“You were right, Amy,” I admitted aloud, trying to smooth things over with her – and though I desperately wanted to log back on for just a second to send that email, as I looked into her eyes I knew I risked losing my friend forever.  But also, something in Amy’s eyes told me she would prevent me from hitting the power button again, by force if necessary.

But then I saw her eyes well up with tears after my semi-apology.  She stood up and quickly advanced towards me.  Bending over, she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed me tightly.  I don’t think she realized that she had lifted me off my seat in her tight embrace.

“I’m sorry I had to do that, James!  I hated every second of it, believe me!”

“I know you did, Amy,” I responded tenderly.  I was in heaven, being held by this gorgeous woman, her size completely engulfing me in her embrace, her aroma filling my nostrils.  Her body felt soooo good pressed to mine.

She released me back into the seat and laid her hands on me affectionately, one on my shoulder and the other on my chest.  Looking deeply into my eyes, she said, “I’ll never violate your rights and your dignity like that again, I promise.”

Touched by her earnestness, I replied, “Thank you, Amy.  That means a lot to me.”

She gave me a smile and continued, “I don’t want things to be weird between us.  You stayed on the computer longer than you should have, but I forgive you.”

I was glad for her change of attitude, but I at least wanted to clear my name and explain what had brought me to the Boston Bruins site.  “Just so you know, I was only looking at –“

She put her hand over my mouth to silence it, saying, “Don’t worry about it, James.  It’s behind us now.”

She still hadn’t let me defend myself.  I started to speak again, but she cut me off a second time, saying, “I’m so sorry, but I really can’t talk anymore.  I’ve already fallen so far behind on my work.”  She quickly pulled away and returned to her computer.

I so wished she had let me speak.  I felt like she still blamed me for staying on too long and thought I was just wasting time on there – if only she could understand!  But I had to let it slide, knowing I couldn’t disturb her again.  I waited around, bored, for another five minutes or so.  I thought about my chance with the doctor – it was probably OK that I didn’t get to respond, since he should be home in the evening anyway, or at least I could just camp out there until he arrived.  But then I realized – Oh no.  I hadn’t written his street address down.  I tried to remember it but couldn’t.  I became more and more sullen as I tried to think of some way to log back on and write it down.

But then I heard her get up and start walking.  I turned and saw her disappear around the corner.  She must be going to the bathroom … Gah! This was my chance!  As quickly as possible, I maneuvered my body toward the CPU tower and pushed the power button.  Figuring I would have just enough time to send that email before she returned, I nervously waited for Windows to boot up and then opened the web browser.  As I frantically typed the URL, I made a couple typos and scrambled to fix them.  My hands were shaking from the gravity of the situation and also my fear not so much of what Ms. Johnson would do, but what my friend Amy would do if she caught me logging on again after the last incident.  To my great relief, I was able to open the email and jot down the address on a scrap paper.  I looked over my shoulder anxiously then typed a quick response: “Be there tonight.  James.”

Then I heard the sound I was dreading: Amy’s heels hitting the floor, getting louder.  I lunged for the power button and managed to hit it, although I tumbled to the floor as a result.  Jumping to my feet, I brushed myself off and leaned against the armrest of my chair, trying to act casual.

Amy approached the cubicle.  “What was that noise?  And what are you doing there?” she asked, seeing me standing next to my chair.

“Oh, uh, nothing.  I just fell out of my chair, is all.”

She eyed me skeptically for a moment, but then her face lightened up as she gave a short laugh.  “My goodness, James, I can’t leave you alone for one minute without you falling out of your chair!”  I laughed as well, relieved that I had gotten away with it, despite feeling almost like she was talking to me like a child.  “Here, let’s help you up” she said.  I was about to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but she was already reaching over me and holding the chair steady.  Shrugging, I grabbed the seat and lifted one leg up, but then slipping as I tried to pull up the rest of me.  “Quickly now,” she reminded gently, but with a hint of impatience.  I struggled for a second more, until I felt a hand grab the back of my pants as I was lifted the rest of the way.  “Sorry, but my deadline’s approaching,” she explained, giving me a conciliatory pat on the top of the head before returning to her desk.  I didn’t necessarily like being hoisted up like that, but I guess I couldn’t blame her.

I spent another monotonous 20 minutes with nothing to do but stare at the cubicle wall.  Even watching paint dry would be a welcome activity at this point.  From the sound of agitated groans and furious scribbling behind me, I surmised that things were not going well for Amy, and she was getting more upset by the minute.

I heard my stomach rumble loudly.  I realized I hadn’t had a chance to eat lunch today, and I was utterly starving.  I tried to wait it out until Kyra got here, but it was 4:15 and there was no way I could last another hour or more.  I looked behind me and saw Amy working harder than ever.  But my stomach was really hurting now and I just couldn’t resist any longer.  With trepidation, I called out, “Amy?”

She didn’t respond, continuing to work away on her computer.  I hated having to interrupt her, but I meekly asked again, “Amy, do you have any food?”

“Not now,” she replied dismissively.

My stomach rumbled again.  “Amy, I really hate to disturb you, but I haven’t eaten since this morning and I could really use a snack.”

Without turning, she replied in a strained voice, as if reluctant to trust me, “Fine, go ahead.  But hurry back.”  I figured that she didn’t want to let me for fear of Ms. Johnson catching me unsupervised, but she was also too busy to take me herself.

I jumped down from my chair and started to leave, but I realized I didn’t have any money for the snack machine; Kyra had taken my wallet days ago.  “Um, Amy, could I borrow some money?”

She put her pencil down loudly and turned to me with a forced sigh.  “I have some leftover pasta in the fridge.  Take as much as you want.”  She turned back without waiting for a response.

I quietly tiptoed away from her and headed towards the break room.  Fortunately it was nearby and I only had to suffer through a few stares on the way.  With two hands, I yanked open the fridge door and looked inside.  Since it was after lunch, it was mostly empty and I quickly spotted a Tupperware with the name ‘Amy’ on the side.  But, to my chagrin, it was on the top shelf, pushed all the way to the back, and I couldn’t reach it without risking upheaving the shelves.  I looked around but there was no one else to ask for help.  Reluctantly, I returned to my cubicle and timidly walked up behind Amy.  Standing at eye level with her, I reached out and pulled on the sleeve of her shirt.

She jumped in fright, startled out of her intense focus.  Seeing me standing there, she sighed almost frutratedly and stared at me expectantly.  “Well?”

“Sorry, I, uh, can’t reach your leftovers in the fridge.”

With her elbows on the desk, she put her head in her hands, looked down, and closed her eyes in exasperation.  Then she abruptly stood up, almost knocking me over, and told me, “Wait here,” as she marched off briskly towards the break room.

She was clearly upset about being distracted yet again, but I discovered a way to make it up to her as I looked at her computer screen.  I was familiar with the reactor she was modeling, having done a project on it myself in the past.  And from the graphs on screen I saw that the problem she was having was a low neutron flux at the top of the core.  I believed I knew how to fix it.

She came back and hastily handed me the Tupperware and a fork, saying, “Here.  Now shoo,” flicking her hand at me to get me to move away from her seat.

“Thank you.  And to return the favor,” I said proudly, “I’ll help you fix your problem now.”

She somewhat ungently pushed me out of her way and sat down.  Turning her back to me and looking at her screen, she replied, “I appreciate it, James, but I don’t have time to explain it to you right now.”

I confidently told her, “The bottom-peaking of the axial flux profile can be fixed by adjusting the cross-sections of the axial reflectors.”

She turned her head back to me, surprised and intrigued.  “Go on…”

“I’ve had this problem before.  You need to use the results from your Monte Carlo calculation to determine the proper albedo factor for thermal neutrons.  Here, let me show you.”  I set the pasta on her desk then walked up next to her and reached over to grab the mouse.  Amy lifted her right arm out of the way to give me easier access to her computer, and then she rested her arm across my back, putting her hand on my opposite shoulder and encouraging me to move in closer.  My legs pressed into hers as I leaned towards her slightly to position myself in front of the computer.  I felt her hot breath on my neck as she watched me from behind, her head inches away from mine.

I tried not to let the closeness of her body distract me as I showed her how to extract the necessary flux tallies from the Monte Carlo simulation and calculate the appropriate albedos.  All the while, I made sure she understood what I was doing.  She replied, “Uh huh,” and, “Oh, I see,” sounding more and more optimistic as we went along.

I finished up my explanation, telling her, “… So you’ll have to run several more cases after this to make sure you are handling the reflector properly.  The peaking will also be sensitive to the anisotropic diffusion coefficient, so we’ll need to look at that as well.”  Then I opened the command prompt and started the first code run.

Watching the screen, she pressed the side of her face against mine and squeezed my shoulder, saying, “I’m impressed, James.  Looks like I might have some good results to show after all.”  I felt her firm breasts press into my arm and back as she leaned into me.

She surely didn’t intend to press her chest into me like that – or at least didn’t intend it to be anything sexual – but it really was starting to affect me now.  She held her embrace for another minute as the code ran, causing me to develop a full hard-on by the time the run was completed.  Once it finished, she said, “Let’s see what’ve we got,” as lifted her arm over and around me and took the mouse, opening up the calculation results.  “Hey, not bad,” she said as she plotted the axial flux profile.  “Still got a ways to go, but it is definitely better.”  Amy then brought her arm up and around my back again and turned to me, saying happily, “Thanks for your help, James.  I have to admit, I was almost at my wit’s end with you earlier, but now I definitely see the benefit of having you around.”  She flashed me a smile and planted a sweet kiss on my cheek.

She then lifted her arm over me again, ruffling my hair playfully as she did so, and returned her focus to the computer.  “I think I can take it from here.  Let’s see what happens if I just decrease the diffusion coefficient a bit more…”  That was what I would have done.  I saw that she now understood what to do and I was content to watch her work.  I picked up the Tupperware and fork again and started eating as I looked over her shoulder.  It was nothing but tomato sauce and rigatoni, and unfortunately she had eaten most of the noodles and left a lot of sauce, but I was too hungry to really care.  There was quite a bit left, though, and at my diminished size I figured it was more than enough to hold me until dinner.  As I was eating, I noticed a typo she had just made, and I leaned over her shoulder to point at the screen and tell her, “The parentheses should be around the 2.”

“Ah, thanks.  Hey, careful there with that pasta, you’ll ruin my clothes!” she exclaimed, half-jokingly but half-seriously concerned.  I was holding the container over her shoulder and had inadvertently let it start to tilt over as I looked at the screen.

“Oops, sorry,” I replied, withdrawing it back over her shoulder.  “You do look fantastic today, by the way,” I added, taking advantage of her pleasant mood.  I knew she was sensitive about her appearance and worked hard to make herself look good, and it showed.

“Aw, thanks James!  I love this new outfit; I just bought it this weekend.”

All this talk got me thinking more about her attire than her research.  I took the opportunity to lightly lean into her, feigning interest in her work, and survey her body from where she couldn’t see me looking.  And oh my, did I have the perfect vantage point, standing at just the right angle to look down the top of her shirt at her cleavage.  As I noted earlier, they were now an impressive size due to my diminished stature, and they looked so soft yet firm as I tilted my head slightly to see all the way down to the cups of her bra holding them up.

“How about I try changing it to 15.0 now?” she asked.

I snapped out of my reverie and glanced dumbly at the screen.  “Uh, yeah, sounds good,” I replied, not seeing what number she was looking at but confident that she would make a good choice.  I then continued my peep show for another couple minutes, pretending to pay attention as she ran more cases and made more modifications.

“Hmm, not as good as I had hoped,” she said after the fourth try.  She was starting to get antsy again, seeing that she only had 55 minutes left.  “This doesn’t seem to be working so well.  Maybe I should try the diffusion coefficient now?”  I was too distracted to reply with more than an incoherent grunt of approval.  Holy smokes.  I had only been able to catch glimpses here and there of Amy’s cleavage as we worked together in the past, so this was truly an unprecedented opportunity to check out the rack of my long-time crush.  Hardly realizing it, I found myself being pulled toward her like a magnet, leaning on her more and more as I became engrossed in the sight below me.  I could hardly contain my arousal as …

… the Tupperware slipped out of my grasp, spilling most of its contents over Amy’s shoulder.  I frantically batted at it, managing to hit it up a bit towards me.  But, alas, I wasn’t able to catch it before it spilled the rest of its contents over Amy’s shoulder and onto her outfit as well as down the front of my own shirt and pants.

“What the hell!?” Amy screamed.  Then she looked down and shrieked, “Oh my god, my new clothes!!”  As she turned, I saw a huge tomato sauce splotch running down the entire length of her blouse and most of her skirt as well.  She stood up and turned her gaze from her clothes over to me.  Boiling with rage, she yelled down at me, “You ruined my new favorite outfit!!  Son of a bitch!”  Then she stormed past me down the hall towards the bathroom, muttering obscenities as she walked.

I planted my palm on my forehead in disbelief; how could I have been so careless!?  I thought she was mad at me earlier, but this was a whole new level of anger.  I stood in a daze for a few moments then, realizing I had nothing to clean myself off with, decided to head to the bathroom.

But Amy intercepted me just in front of the bathroom doors.  She had just emerged from the women’s room after trying her best to wipe away the sauce, but without much success.  The stains were still clearly visible.  Holding a wad of paper towels in one hand, she snatched my wrist with her other hand as I tried to walk by.  Then she spun me around and held my arm out above my head and to the side, pulling me towards her shirt for a closer look.  Still furious, she told me, “Look what you’ve done to my clothes.  These stains aren’t going to wash out.”  I had never thought sweet Amy could ever make me feel intimidated or scared, but I had just learned otherwise.  She didn’t release her grip on my wrist, instead dragging me back to her cubicle.  I heard some people snicker and whisper, “Hey, check it out!” as we moved, and I knew the ridicule wasn’t directed at Amy’s stains so much as at my tiny body being hauled around like some naughty little child.

Returning to her cubicle, she released my arm and hastily bent over to wipe up what she could of the sauce on her floor, chair, and desk as I looked on nervously.  Then she discarded the paper towel and stood over me.  Before I even knew what she was doing, two huge hands reached down and lifted me up under the armpits.  My 65-lb body was effortlessly lifted up and dumped onto my chair.  She roughly pushed my chair backwards but, to my surprise, stopped only halfway to my desk.

Her lips curled into a slight snarl, she growled, “You’re staying right here where you can’t cause any more trouble.”  She then strutted back to her desk and turned her back to me.  Looking around, I realized what she had done: by placing me out of reach of any desk or other object, she had effectively stranded me on an island in the middle of the cubicle.  My legs were too short to move or even turn my chair, and I was now forced to sit there out of reach of everything, with not so much as a paperclip to keep me occupied.

I spent the next 10 minutes having nothing to do but watch Amy work.  She was again getting frustrated, as apparently the ideas I gave her weren’t producing the expected results.  I decided to risk interrupting her again in an attempt to win back her favor.  “Amy, can I help?” I asked timidly.

She responded by silently coming over to me and turning my chair 180 degrees until I was facing the opposite wall.  If that wasn’t a clear indication that she wanted me to shut up, I didn’t know what was.  Unable to rotate my chair, I listened as she began to curse and pound her fists in frustration at her lack of progress.

Finally, after another ten minutes of frustration, she came over and pulled my chair towards her desk.  She was all business, not even looking at me as she spun me around.  She pointed to the screen with a grim look on her face and told me through clenched teeth, “I’m trying to get this stupid code to change the reflector geometry, and it keeps giving me the same stupid error.”  She had to try hard to contain her rage stemming from her troubles with the code as well as her bitterness towards my ruining her clothes.

“O-Oh, OK,” I said like a hurt puppy wary of another blow from his master.  I looked through her input file for a couple minutes while she grew impatient.  I gave the best guess I could think of.  “Maybe you put too many decimal places here?” I said, pointing to a number on the screen.  She deleted a few digits then reran the code.  But the same error popped up again.

Amy gave a frustrated growl and told me, “Never mind,” with a sigh, starting to wheel me away from her desk.

Then I just happened to glance at another line of her input and it clicked.  “Wait, Amy, I’ve got it!  This line only accepts 4 inputs when discontinuity factors are disabled.  Take away the last number and it should work.”

She eyed me distrustfully but did as I suggested.  To my great relief, the code ran successfully.  “Thanks,” she said simply.  I was hoping that I had won back her favor and she would let me stay here to help.  But, despite my help, she again grabbed my armrests and pushed me to the middle of the floor, facing away from her.  Damn it, that was disappointing.  Now what the hell could I do to get her on my side again?  I thought about it but quickly realized the best course of action was no action; all I could do was sit there and avoid interrupting her any further.

I don’t know how long I had to sit there, since I couldn’t see the clock from where I was sitting.  But it had to be more than half an hour of abject boredom, slouching over with my face resting in my palm, staring blankly at the wall.  At least, Amy seemed to be getting less agitated; from the sound of her rapid keystrokes, I surmised that she was not stuck anymore and was making progress, but still had a ways to go and was working furiously to finish in time.

But she was still typing away as I heard two familiar voices approaching: Ms. Johnson’s and Kyra’s.  They were laughing loudly at some inside joke as they entered the cubicle.  “Why, hello there Jimmy!” Ms. Johnson said cheerfully, seeing where I was sitting.  “What are you doing in the middle of the floor?” she inquired, cocking an eye at me.  “I thought I told you to stay at your desk,” she added sternly.

“I put him there,” Amy interjected, looking up from her work.  Kyra and Ms. Johnson eyed her inquisitively, wanting an explanation.  “Well,” Amy continued, trying to put it delicately, “he was … interfering with my work.”

“Oh, really?” Ms. Johnson said as she and Kyra both turned their heads to look down at me disapprovingly.  “What did Jimmy do, exactly?” she asked.

I saw conflict in Amy’s eyes as she debated whether or not to tell the whole story.  She still seemed to be on my side and, while she was no doubt still mad at me, she didn’t necessarily want to see me punished like a child by these two women.  “Oh, nothing much,” she lied.  “He was just distracting me a little from my work.”

Ms. Johnson frowned at me and said, “Why am I not surprised…”  She then raised her eyebrow at Amy and said, “I trust that you didn’t let it interfere with your project?”

Amy replied nervously, “I haven’t quite finished it yet, actually.”  Ms. Johnson gave a vicious stare, prompting Amy to quickly add, “But if it wasn’t for Jimmy –“  I cringed as she was about to sell me out.  But Amy paused and glanced anxiously between me and Ms. Johnson, trying to decide whether to try to get off the hook by laying the blame on me or accept responsibility for being late and receive a harsher punishment.

To my immense relief, my friend decided to stick with me.  She continued, “If it wasn’t for James I would have been stuck; he actually helped me figure out the problem.”  I gave her a look of gratitude at this kind gesture.

But Ms. Johnson was not pleased.  She seemed even more inflamed than normal because Amy decided to side with me.  “So he helped you, but you still didn’t finish!?  This is totally unacceptable.  I have half a mind to fire you right now.  You’ll have to stay late today and finish if you want any chance of keeping your job.”

“But Ms. Johnson, I have an appointment at 6:00 that I can’t miss!”

“Tough,” she replied sternly.  “I don’t care how long it takes.  Get me those results tomorrow morning, or don’t bother to come in at all.”

I looked with pity at my friend, who put her own ass on the line to protect me and was now paying the price.  As I saw the pain on her face, I decided to do what I could to alleviate her situation.  I plopped myself down onto the floor, put my hands on my hips confidently, and was just about to declare that it was my fault and Amy shouldn’t be blamed for this.  But just as I stood straight and faced them, Kyra noticed the sauce stain on my shirt and shorts.  “Did you make a mess on yourself, mister?” she asked sternly before I had a chance to speak.  Glancing over, she also noticed the stain on Amy’s shoulder.  “Did he spill some on you too, Amy?” she said with concern.

Amy looked back and forth between me and the two women towering over me.  Her look indicated that she had wanted to keep it a secret, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide such a large stain down her front.  She sighed and reluctantly stood up, revealing to Kyra and her boss the mess I had made of her outfit.

“Oh my gosh!” Kyra and Ms. Johnson exclaimed in unison.  “Those clothes are ruined!  Did Jimmy really do all that!?”

“Well…” Amy started, looking into my eyes with pity.  “Yes, it was his fault, I’m afraid.”

“Jimmy!” Kyra said angrily as she roughly lifted me until I was standing atop the seat cushion.  Kyra still stood a bit taller than me as she peered unyieldingly into my eyes.  “I can’t believe you ruined this nice lady’s clothes!  And you even messed up your own clothes on top of it.  You should be ashamed of yourself,” she scolded, gripping my upper arm painfully.  Still squeezing my arm, she turned to Amy and said sympathetically, “I’m so sorry about this, Amy.  He just can’t seem to control himself anymore.  But rest assured, he’s going to pay for this when we get home.”  I shuddered as Kyra stared menacingly into my eyes.

“Oh … you’re not going to hurt him, are you?” Amy asked concernedly.

“Trust me, he deserves it,” Kyra asserted as she easily lifted me off the seat and plopped me down on the floor.  Then she strolled up to Amy and put her arm around her shoulder like they were old buddies.  The two of them faced me and looked down at my tiny figure.  “C’mon, Amy, I know how mad you must be at him, ruining such a cute outfit.  You look gorgeous in it, by the way,” Kyra added, looking at her with a smile.

“Why, thank you, Kyra!” Amy responded.  “Isn’t it fabulous!?  I just bought it this weekend, but it’s already my favorite outfit.  Well, at least, it WAS my favorite…” she ended dejectedly.

Kyra consoled her, “And now you’ll never be able to wear it again!  Oh, that’s got to be the worst feeling in the world!  Surely Jimmy deserves a little punishment for what he’s done…” she coaxed.

“Well, I don’t know…” Amy said, torn between wanting to treat me like an adult and wanting to punish me like a child.

“Amy, honey,” Kyra said frankly, “Look at your clothes and tell me he doesn’t deserve something for what he’s done.”

She glanced down and grimaced at the sight of her stained clothes.  As she lifted her gaze back to me, I marked a definite change in her demeanor: she didn’t necessarily like it, but she now knew that something must be done to avenge her ruined outfit.  She sighed remorsefully but said, with grim determination, “You’re right; he does deserve to be punished.”  She turned her gaze to Kyra and added, “Try not to hurt him too much, OK – just enough to make sure he learns his lesson.”

Nooooo!!! It couldn’t be!!! Never in a million years would I have expected to hear those words from Amy’s mouth.  Kind, gentle Amy, who wouldn’t hurt a fly!  My only friend on the entire planet!  My face contorted in a mix of shock, betrayal, and horror.  My eyes started to water and I felt faint as I looked up at the two women above me: Amy staring resolutely down at me with arms crossed, and Kyra leering down at me ecstatically after her latest triumph over my spirit and soul.  Perhaps if I had been allowed to defend Amy and take the blame for making her late, she would have been more compassionate and forgiving.  But Ms. Johnson and Kyra played her well – the one punishing Amy for my own misbehavior, and the other persuading Amy to take her anger out on me.

“Don’t worry,” Kyra told Amy.  “This isn’t the first time he’s needed a punishment.  I know exactly how much it takes to get him in line.”  She patted Amy’s shoulder knowingly and added, “You’ve made the right choice, Amy.  He won’t be so careless after tonight.”  Amy was still pained by her decision, but she nodded appreciatively at what Kyra was willing to do ‘for my sake.’

Ms. Johnson, who was also absolutely delighted at Amy’s change of attitude, told her, “Well, Amy, now that I see just how much trouble little Jimmy has caused you, and knowing that he’ll receive the punishment he deserves”—she stepped towards me and pinched my shoulder painfully as she said this– “I’ve decided that it will be perfectly acceptable to finish your work tomorrow.”

Amy’s face lit up.  “Really!?  Oh my gosh, thank you Ms. Johnson!  Again, I’m so sorry for not finishing on time.”

Ms. Johnson smiled and shook her head graciously, saying, “Don’t worry about it.  After all, you were nice enough to look after this little troublemaker”—she pinched my shoulder harder, causing me to wince in discomfort— “and it was unfair of me to expect you to keep him out of trouble and meet your deadline at the same time.  So just do a good job on the project tomorrow and get it in to me whenever – no rush.”  Amy and I both were startled at Ms. Johnson’s change in demeanor.  Hadn’t she just threatened to fire her not 3 minutes ago!?  Then it dawned on me: Ms. Johnson was rewarding Amy for agreeing to punish me.  The two conspirators – Ms. Johnson and Kyra – were playing Amy beautifully, cunningly encouraging her to join their side and begin to treat me as a child as well.  Considering how effectively their manipulation had worked so far, I shuddered to think what they would convince Amy to do to me next.

Amy thanked her boss again for her generosity, then Kyra suggested, “Hey, you two, I just had a terrific idea!  Why don’t the three of us go out one night and help Amy pick out a new set of clothes?”

“Sounds fabulous!” Ms. Johnson replied.

“Oh, you guys don’t have to do that,” Amy said, still caught off guard by her boss’s sudden transformation.

But Kyra interjected, “Oh, nonsense, Amy.  I’ll even buy you a whole new outfit.  It’s the least I could do after Jimmy ruined your clothes.”

“Well, it does sound fun … OK, let’s do it!” Amy consented.  The three women gave a little cheer then giggled.  They sounded like best friends already.  They all shared cell phone numbers, then Amy added, “But it’ll have to be later in the week, I’m afraid.”

“No problem, Amy,” Ms. Johnson replied.  “Just tell us when you want to go!”  She paused, then continued, “Well, I was just giving Kyra a quick tour of the office.  Amy, could I trouble you one more time to watch Jimmy for a few minutes while we finish up?”  She and Kyra stepped towards the hallway.

“Sure, Ms. Johnson,” Amy replied, standing behind me and resting both hands on my shoulders.  “He won’t go anywhere, I promise.”  The two of them smiled warmly at Amy and walked out of the cubicle.

Once my two tormenters were out of sight, I shrugged off the hands on my shoulders and spun around to confront my tormenter-in-training.  “What the hell was that!?” I asked, both angered and hurt by what Amy had just done.  “You betrayed me!”  I began to back away from her.

She sighed and told me, “Oh, come on, James, you’re overreacting.”

“I trusted you!” I shot back, tears welling up in my eyes as I stumbled backwards.

“Can’t we just talk about this?” she asked.  I saw that she was pained by my reaction but still thought I was overblowing it.  She stepped towards me and offered me her hand.  I recoiled from her reach and, seeing her lack of remorse, broke into tears and turned towards the hallway to escape her, overwhelmed by emotions.

But before I could leave the cubicle, I felt my arm suddenly held back by an immovable force.  Shocked, I turned my head to see Amy’s hand clasped around my wrist.  “I’m so sorry, James, but I can’t let you leave the cubicle.  I can’t risk pissing off my boss.  Please, just come sit with me and we’ll talk this through.”  Her face was filled with pity and compassion, but her grip on my wrist remained unbreakably strong and resolute.

“Just let me go!” I whined childishly as I struggled hopelessly to wrest myself free from her grasp.

“I’m not going to hurt you, James, I just want to talk.”  I continued to struggle.  “Please, James, stop fighting me.”  She watched my futile struggles for a minute, but her patience quickly ran out.  She sighed at my antics then turned and headed towards the chair behind her, still holding my wrist.  I resisted as hard as I could but found myself being pulled inexorably back into the cubicle.  There was nothing I could do to stop her overwhelming strength.

Having grown tired of my struggles, she shook her head in exasperation as she pulled me into her with one arm, then reached around me with her other arm and brusquely picked me up off the ground.  Her arm pressed my body into hers as she lifted me back onto my chair and plopped me down onto the seat.  Then she went down on her knees in front of me, grabbed both armrests, and pulled my chair closer.  My knees were pressed against her midsection, and my body was surrounded by her outstretched arms on either side of me and her huge torso in front.

Although I knew I was trapped, nonetheless I tried to lunge forward and squeeze through the small gap under her arms and next to her torso.  “Will you stop it already!” she boomed, annoyed at my continued struggles.  Her arm immediately moved to my chest and pinned me strongly, but not roughly, against the back of the chair.  “Just let me talk, OK!?”

I knew I was now in no position to stop her from just talking, so I started to cry.  “James, don’t be like this,” Amy pleaded.  “You know I never meant to hurt you.”

“Then why did you say Kyra could punish me!?” I blurted.

“There, there,” she soothed.  “You know it’s only fair, after ruining my outfit.  Besides, she’s only going to punish you as much as you deserved.”

“But she’s going to spank me like a little kid!”  I realized in embarrassment that I had shouted that much too loudly.  No doubt everyone within a five-cubicle radius heard what I said.  More quietly but just as forcefully, I added, “That’s not how an adult should be treated!”

Seeing that I had calmed down a bit, she withdrew her hand from my chest and returned it to the armrest.  But even though she had let up on my chest I still felt trapped like a mouse, being hemmed in on all sides by her huge frame, and knowing she would not let me leave if I was to try.  “I know, I know,” she replied, turning her eyes down regretfully.  “But,” she continued, raising her gaze, “You have to admit that you haven’t exactly been acting like an adult this afternoon.”

“What!?” I said, deeply hurt by her words.

“Please, James, try to understand me,” she pleaded.  “Of course I know you’re still the same 41-year-old man that I’ve gotten to know and admire over the last couple years.  I even,” she whispered confidentially with a tender smile, turning her head side to side to make sure no one else was listening, “had quite a crush on you, James, and I often wished we were more than just friends…”

My jaw dropped open in amazement.  I was such an idiot!!!  How could I have let this go on for so long without making a move!?  I was utterly devastated, knowing that she would never want me anymore, not in the body of a child.  But what if, maybe, just maybe, she still had feelings for me?  I was just about to open up to her when she put a finger to my lips to silence me and continued, “But that’s behind us now.”  Her face became serious again.  “It’s just that you’ve … changed in the past couple weeks, and maybe you ...” she said, trying to choose her words carefully, “well, you just don’t seem to … listen as well, and … uh … treat people with as much respect, and … do what they ask of you, and …”  She was really struggling to put things as delicately as possible, although what she was saying still wasn’t very delicate in my opinion.

I had to interject, to defend my honor.  “But I have been listening, and showing respect, and –“

She cut me off.  “See, this is part of my point – you just won’t stop arguing with me!  And what about when you refused to get off the computer?  And when you kept nagging me when you knew I was busy?”  I tried to speak but she shushed me again, getting increasingly agitated again as she recounted all my misdeeds.  “And what about when you spilled the pasta that I was nice enough to get you?  And even just a minute ago, when I risked my job to defend you, and you didn’t so much as raise a finger to help save my job in return, like any friend would!”

“I was trying to, but Kyra cut me off!  I swear!”

She frowned disbelievingly, growing more agitated at my continual arguing.  “Either way, my point is you haven’t been acting maturely like the man I used to know, and, well, to be frank, I’m not sure you’re able to take care of yourself anymore.  Maybe Kyra is right; you need someone to look after you and keep you out of trouble.”

I began to sob again under her hard gaze.  By all appearances, she now saw me less as a man, and more as a child: a radical change from when I first talked with her this afternoon.  In bitter frustration, I cried out, “They’re getting to you!  That’s just what Kyra and Ms. Johnson want you to think!  They’re just pretending to be your friend so they can turn you against me!  Please don’t treat me like a child too!  Please, Amy!  You’re my only friend in the whole world!”  By then I was sobbing uncontrollably, my head buried in my hands.

I felt Amy’s long arms reach behind me and pull me up off the cushion and into her warm body.  This only brought more tears from me as I cried like a baby on Amy’s shoulder.  “I’ll never treat you like they do, James, I promise,” she whispered earnestly in my ear, moved by my show of emotion.  “Just because you need someone to keep an eye on you doesn’t mean you should be treated like a child!  I promise, I will always care for you and listen to what you have to say, and I will never, ever hurt you.”  She pulled me back and looked deeply into my eyes.

My sobbing subsided.  Encouraged by her promise not to hurt me, I asked, “Does that mean you’ll tell Kyra not to spank me tonight?”

Amy paused thoughtfully then said with emotion, “Don’t worry, James, I’m sure this will never have to happen again.  I’m sure after a light spanking tonight you’ll have the mindset you need to act like a grown-up again, and we’ll be back to being best friends, just like old times.”  I was still too emotional to quite follow what she was saying at first, and I smiled when she said we could be best friends again.  But slowly her words sunk in: I would still be getting a spanking tonight.

Seeing my downcast expression, she laid her hand on my shoulder tenderly and said, “It’s OK, James.  What’s done is done.  Let’s just put all of this behind us and move on, OK?”  I had no choice but to accept my punishment tonight.  I nodded in pained acceptance, and she brought me in for another warm hug.

Kyra and Ms. Johnson returned just as Amy was releasing me from her embrace.  “We heard some yelling; did anything happen while we were away?” Kyra asked.  Seeing my cheeks still wet with tears, Kyra looked at us quizzically and said, “Don’t tell me Jimmy acted up again.  That boy just doesn’t know how to behave.”

“No, no!  It was nothing like that, Kyra!” Amy said, standing to her full height and placing her hands on my shoulders protectively.  “We just had some … issues that needed sorting out.”  I nervously turned my head up to Amy as she looked down and affectionately patted my hair.  “But we had a heart-to-heart, and now James understands that he was bad and needs to be punished, and I’m sure he and I will get along much better in the future.  Isn’t that right, James?”  She looked down at me expectantly, almost as a mother would a child.

I still absolutely disagreed that I needed a god-damned spanking, but what could I do?  “Yes, ma'am -- I mean, Amy,” I replied softly before dropping my head in shame.

The two newcomers grinned evilly at me, and Kyra responded, “Good.  Thank you so much for talking some sense into him, Amy.  It’ll make my job much easier.”

“Glad to help, Kyra.  Well,” Amy said, turning to her boss, “I hear that James is unable to work here anymore…”  Ms. Johnson nodded in confirmation, and Amy turned back to Kyra.  “… but I would love to have a chance to see him again, as often as possible.  And if you ever need someone to look after him, feel free to call me anytime.  You have my number.”

“That’s so nice of you, Amy!  I will definitely take you up on that.”  I was pleased with this; even though it sounded a hell of a lot like babysitting, I would far rather have Amy do it than anyone else.  Kyra added graciously, “Although, of course, not during work hours.”

Amy nodded approvingly, saying, “I’m afraid he is just too much to handle when I need to get work done.”  My face turned red as she said this.

“Of course, dear,” Kyra continued.  “I’m terribly sorry for burdening you like this today.  I’m sure I can find some other accommodations while I’m off at school.”  I was getting sick and tired of these women having conversations about me as if I wasn’t standing right there.  Even Amy didn’t seem to have a problem ignoring me.

Kyra and Amy gave a friendly goodbye hug, then Kyra swiftly lifted me up onto her hip and carried me away as Ms. Johnson walked us out.  I turned and saw that Amy was a bit embarrassed to see me carried this way, but nonetheless she happily blew me a kiss and waved goodbye.  I returned the wave until we rounded the corner, out of sight.

Kyra and Ms. Johnson continued to chat, still utterly ignoring my presence even though I was facing both of them as I sat on Kyra’s hip.  As we neared the elevator, Ms. Johnson said, “My goodness, I feel like we’ve known each other a long time already, even though we only just met this afternoon!”

“I feel like that too!  It was such a pleasure meeting you, Becky.”

“Please, Kyra, the pleasure is all mine.  I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other very soon.”  Then she bent over to put her face in front of mine and said, “And I hope to spend some more time with this little guy, too.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that.  I could always use some parenting advice.”

Ms. Johnson gave a predatory grin and leaned in closer to me.  “Hear that, Jimmy?  You and I are going to have so much fun together.”  The ominous tone of her voice scared the shit out of me.  I sighed in relief as she backed away and told Kyra, “Keep in touch!”

“Will do!” Kyra replied merrily as she entered the elevator and pushed the button for the lobby.  There was another woman in the elevator who smiled pleasantly at Kyra and what was surely her son hanging on to her.  My expression turned even sourer than before.  I had had enough of this crap.  I was even too upset to pay attention to the bouncing of Kyra’s huge melons before my eyes as we got out and walked to the car.