History Lessons by Fiona Wilde Read Free Book Online Page A

into his office and announce that she was filing a formal complaint against him for sexual harassment.
    "Yes," she heard herself say. " Sexual harassment. Why else would a man spank a woman if it wasn't for some sick thrill?"
    But she had not done that, and she knew she would not. So what did that make her? She wasn't a victim, or at least she did not feel like one. So was she complicit? Was she an enabler? Did some dark, twisted part of her want or need this?
    Lucy's face flushed at the very thought, but before she could have another one she heard the door to Warren Ellis' office creak open.
    "Miss Primm?"
    She sighed and smoothed her dress as she raised her eyes towards the landing. She could not see him from where she was and kept her eyes on the floor as she walked up the stair that took him to the hallway and then to his door.
    "Mr. Ellis."
    He stepped aside as she walked in.
    "Have a seat."
    She obeyed, sitting in the chair across from his desk.
    "I know what you're going to say," she said.
    "Do you?" He walked around and took a seat at his desk. "That's rather presumptuous of you, Miss Prim."
    "I'm not trying to be presumptuous," she said. "I just know you're disappointed in me, and that you're probably going to tell me I'm not cut out for the job."
    The ghost of a smile played on his lips as he considered her comments.
    "Please tell me you will never try to make a living as a fortune teller," he said. "Your psychic powers are abysmal. I was going to say no such thing."
    "But you said I'd failed," Lucy responded.
    "And you did," he replied. "But people are not perfect, although we should strive for the next best thing - excellence. That path, however, is rocky. We are bound to stumble along the way, and even fall."
    "So you aren't angry?"
    "Angry?" He looked genuinely surprised. "I've never been angry with you, Miss Primm. Why would I start now?"
    "How can you say that?" she asked. "How can you say you've never been angry when you've struck me?"
    He regarded her for a moment before speaking.
    "I thought you said you had a child," he said.
    "I do," she replied, puzzled. "A little son, Kegan."
    "Does he ever disobey you?" Ellis asked.
    Lucy laughed. "Of course," she said. "He'd hardly be a normal child if he did everything I asked all of the time."
    "Indeed," the director responded. "Of course when he goes too far over the line I'm sure you punish him."
    "Not by spanking."
    He smiled. "Well, I'm sure you and I would disagree on what works best for children. But even though you don't believe in corporal punishment even though you are proof of its effectiveness, you likely don't allow the child to run roughshod over you. I'm certain you use some other method of correction."
    "Y-yes," Lucy said, wondering where he was going with this. "I'll restrict an activity or deny some privilege he only gets when he's good."
    "And you're angry when you deny him these things?"
    "No!" Lucy responded indignantly. "Quite the opposite. If anything I feel quite sad to have to cause him distress."
    He nodded. "I know just how you feel," he said. "I felt the same thing when I had to correct you."
    Lucy looked at him, at first finding no words to respond. Was this some sort of joke. Was he really comparing the caning he'd given her to the actions she took with her own child?
    She chose her next words carefully.
    "Respectfully, Mr. Ellis, I have a bond with my son. An emotional bond. A loving bond. The regret I feel comes from the deep affection I have for him."
    She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but there is no way you can compare these dynamics."
    He smiled at her then. "You don't think I care about you?"
    The question struck her as odd, especially coming from someone like Mr. Ellis who seemed to regard relationships low on his priority list.
    "No," she said. "Forgive me for being blunt, but sir you don't even know me."
    "This is true, Lucy Primm," he responded. "I don't know you intimately. I don't know your favorite color or what you take in