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Maggie came walking into the office with a magazine in her hand and a concerned look on her face. “Dad, um, if you knew Fran would kill you for something that you did that turned out really bad for her, would you tell her, or would you try to keep it from her?”
“Oh, now, Margaret, haven't I taught you to confront your problems? Now, what could you possibly have done to Miss Fine that was so horrible?”
“Not me. You.”
“Niles, the limo. I'm going to the club. See if you can solve this with money.”
“Dad, Dad, Fran's picture's in Gloss magazine.”
“Well, what's so bad about that? She'll be thrilled. What, eyes closed? Bad angle?”
“She's a fashion ‘Don't’.”
“What's that to do with me?”
“Read the caption.”
"Who let her out of the house with that purse?" Maxwell let out a long, horrified wheeze.
“Oh, I just remembered the charity. Asthma.”
“Niles, get this piece of trash out of here.” He gestured to the magazine.
Niles glared at CC. “You heard the man, move it.”
Just then, Fran came strutting into the office.
“Knock-knock. Has anyone seen my new Gloss magazine?”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, no. I've been working.”
“Seen? No, Fran, I'm sorry.”
“Is this it?” CC snatched the magazine and presented it to her with glee.
“Is there a picture of me in it?” Fran asked, hopeful.
“Oh, I don't know…Page 63, right after the chick in the Hanes ad.”
Before she could reach the page, Maxwell snatched it out of her hands.
“What's the matter? Why don't you want me to see it? I don't care if it's blurry. That knocks 10 years off.”
“No. You can't have it.” Maxwell folded up the offending brochure and tucked it inside the front of his trousers.
“You think that's gonna stop me?” Fran reached down to grab the magazine from his crotch, but was stopped by his hand. He regretfully pulled out the glossy bundle and handed it to her.
“Ohhhhh, I look fabulous. Look, they gave me half a page. Oh, I gotta go call Val.” She ran out of the office in excitement before doubling back a moment later, her expression having switched to thinly-suppressed rage.
“Everybody out!” The gathered group made a hasty exit, Maxwell following. Fran grabbed him by his tie to stop him, pulling him back to face her. “Not you!”
“Oh, Miss Fine, let's not be hasty about this.” He stood in front of her like a lamb to the slaughter.
She dragged him by the tie over to his desk. “Don't you worry. It's gonna be slow and painful.”
Fran picked up the receiver and dialled.
“Hi, Ma? Yeah. Mr. Sheffield here wants to hear all about your hysterectomy.”
------------------------------------------
He stood helplessly against his desk, phone pressed to his ear with a look of absolute defeat on his face. But, he reasoned, it was his doing and he’d take the punishment. He knew Miss Fine’s outfit coordination and overall appearance was very important to her and now it was splashed across a whole page of an Italian fashion magazine, broadcasting to the world that she was a fashion ‘Don’t’. It would be as if someone took out a full-sized page to advertise that he’d once turned down Cats. Shit. That comparison was enough for him to realise the gravity of the situation.
She was going to eat him alive.
Sylvia’s familiar nasal twang echoing down the line jolted him back to reality.
Oh Mr Sheffield, I thought you’d never ask!
Fran directed Maxwell to sit in his desk chair, pushing him down with a little more force than was necessary. She assumed her usual perch on the corner of his desk, her thighs gliding across the polished oak with a practised smoothness that caused her mini skirt to ride up just enough to border on indecent. He couldn’t help but stare. She noticed, a sly smile crawling across her lips.
And then they asked if I wanted a Foley catheter and I said, I’m Jewish! Why would I want a tube up my tuchus?! Apparently it was a different hole…
She leant in to grab his tie, pulling him close enough to breathe in her perfume and offer an almost direct view down her cinched-in jacket. Sheer lace winked back at him, just visible against the supple curve of her breast, and he almost dropped the handle of the phone.
I’m hippo-glycaemic so I had to eat every hour. The hospital chicken was very dry though. Then the nurse warned me that I might be dry too after my surgery and gave me an ointment, but oy, if I didn’t feel just like that chicken…
She leant in further, her lips brushing against the side of his face as if about to whisper. He angled to meet her, eager to escape the incessant chatter from Sylvia in his other ear. But instead of words, she blew a low, warm stream of air against him, before grazing his jawline with her teeth.
Maxwell whimpered quietly, wrapping the coiled cord tightly around his fingers.
…They said most women gain weight after a hysterectomy, but I’ve been very blessed to keep my figure. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you looking, Mr. Sheffield…
Fran neatly uncrossed her legs and spread them slightly before bringing one nude heel up against the expensive leather of his office chair and settling it between his thighs, almost high enough to touch the seam of his slacks. Another flash of lace, this time between her legs.
Despite the medical car crash being described in his ear, he could feel himself rapidly getting hard and attempted to subtly readjust his position, but it was no use. The tip of her heel was wedged rigidly between his legs and he knew that if he moved any further, she would feel exactly what her presence was doing to him. In very specific detail.
“Something the matter, Mr. Sheffield?”
He deigned not to look at her, eyes trained instead on the delicate bones of her ankle, glistening slightly from the shiny gossamer of her sheer stockings. He still wasn’t entirely sure how he had gotten himself into this position but he was trying desperately to pretend that he wasn’t secretly loving every second. He was at her mercy, had no idea what to expect next and was not entirely mad about it.
So I started doing the Kegel exercises in the hospital but the yenta nurse thought I was having a seizure and called a code blue. Apparently you’re only supposed to squeeze tightly on the INSIDE…
In an effort to avoid staring at the straight shot between her legs, Maxwell started gently massaging along her ankle, fingers pinching the glossy material and deftly tracing a line up her calf. His eyes followed the line, overriding the flashing warning signals in his brain as his eyes landed right where they shouldn’t. Sheer black lace, a hint of neatly-trimmed dark curls, milky-soft skin and radiating heat. He swallowed hard, refusing to look at her, already knowing her expression was downright triumphant with glee.
She had him. She had him and they both knew it.
He felt her heel nudge forward slightly, brushing lightly against the tip, the pointed toe of her shoe circling lightly around the head of him. He twitched up against the arm of the chair, suppressing a groan and gripping her ankle tighter. She nudged the heel up higher, rubbing once up the length of him and was rewarded by him pressing himself helplessly against her, completely forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to want this.
…and the fakakta Doctor didn’t even want to check the other lump while he was there, that putz! What am I, old cheese? Meanwhile, that lump is still growing and I could sue! Remind me to show you next time I’m over. It’s not that hard to reach with an extra person.
“Hmmm….I don’t think I’m satisfied yet, Mr. Sheffield.” She tapped two fingers against her chin, pondering dramatically.
Fran pulled her foot away long enough to reach for the offending magazine, before folding it up and sliding it gracefully down the front of his pants. Her hand grazed him and she gave the bundle of papers an extra squeeze, making sure he could feel her fingers dance across where he ached for her touch.
“I want a reminder of what you did, right where it matters most.” She tapped firmly against his zipper, his erection jolting back at her in response.
“Miss Fine, please, how much longer of this torture?”
“Until I’m convinced that you’re sorry.”
She grabbed the receiver off of his ear to speak into it, leaning in just enough for her breasts to push up into his face. He fought the impulse to inhale, overwhelmed by the urge to dip down and lick the creamy flesh she’d presented to him.
Her seductive whisper cut into the haze, offering up a cheeky, “see something you like?” before her tone switched as she spoke down the line, voice laden with storytelling vigour.
“Hey Ma, tell him what the Doctor said about your cervix.”
Ya know, he said it was the longest cervix he’d ever seen! Asked to measure it. I was flattered, what can I say? I still have the polaroid around here somewhere…
------------------------------------------
Maxwell could feel his desperation growing. He covered the mouth piece with one hand, his voice a tense whisper. He wasn’t above begging. For what exactly? He couldn’t be sure.
“Miss Fine, please! What do you want? Hmmm? I’ll give you…a…a very generous Christmas bonus? That new sonic nail drying system you’ve had your eye on! A new bag to make you a fashion ‘Do’!”
She narrowed her eyes at the fresh mention of the fashion faux pas.
“Please, Mr. Sheffield, you’re insulting me! All I want from you is exactly where I’ve got you right now.” Her eyes flicked down to where he was hard and straining against the outline of his pants. “Although…this part was certainly unexpected. Gloss magazine is fightin’ for room in there. Did you want me to take it out?”
You’re such a good boss to my little Frannie, it’s a shame you’re not Jewish! Or a Doctor. Do you know any Jewish Doctors, Mr. Sheffield?
“Yes…I mean no. No. Yes.”
“Well which is it, Mr Sheffield?”
He hung his head in humiliated defeat. “Yes please.”
“Well okay, if you insist. And after that, maybe I’ll remove the magazine, too.” She winked and he uttered something between a grumble and a growl in response, a man rapidly unravelling under her power play.
..and the rash turned so red. Kinda reminds me of that delicious crusted salmon that Niles makes. Y’know, I could eat that again. But I really wouldn’t want to be an imposition. We Fine’s are a very polite people.
Fran reached down into his pants, now taut against his erection and obstructing the path to slide the magazine back out. She manoeuvred her hand in further, watching him twitch as her palm cupped him through his underwear with one painfully slow and sensual tug.
…and what’s wrong with my little Franela, anyway, Mr. Sheffield? Are gorgeous sexy brunettes not your type? She got her looks from me, you know. You should be so lucky!
“Is that a rolled up magazine or are you just happy to see me, Mr Sheffield?”
“You know bloody well what it is!” He hissed through gritted teeth. “And I do not need it happening when I’m having this conversation with your mother!”
“I didn’t think Ma’s hysterectomy would excite you that much, but who am I to judge? Was it the part about the Kegels that did it for ya?”
She slid the glossy pages back out, deliberately running her hand back up along him as she did so. He bit his lip to swallow a moan but his hips betrayed him, ungracefully jerking up against her again.
…and do you know, they said nine stitches but I only ever counted seven. Apparently the other two dissolved. Can you believe that? My body ate two whole stitches! I’m a medical marvel!
He groaned, equal parts aroused and disgusted. Fran pulled the magazine out triumphantly and held it against herself, wide-eyed and pouting.
“Do you think I’m a fashion ‘Don’t’, Mr Sheffield?”
He bit his lip, eyes scrunching shut. “No, Miss Fine, I think you’re perfect.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Her face softened, taken aback by his unexpected honesty. She leant forward again and kissed him, her tongue tracing his lower lip before slipping gently inside his mouth to meet his own. It was tender in a way that he didn’t deserve, given the circumstances. She covered the receiver with her hand to muffle the noise, ensuring it was still pressed firmly against his ear to continue Sylvia’s monologue.
Oh I tell ya, I was so blocked up from the anaesthesia, I was practically shvitzing trying to go to the can! Luckily Morty ordered me a BLT the size of a horse and that pushed things through..
She broke the kiss first, his mouth following hers regretfully. “That’s a good boy, Mr. Sheffield. Now, do you think you’ve learned your lesson?”
He nodded meekly, eyes filled with a catastrophic mix of fear and admiration. He had never been more terrified and turned on in his life and he briefly wondered if it was possible to die from such a state. He decided that he was okay with it. She snatched the phone from him, eyes darkening over with an unreadable glaze of her own.
“Ma, Mr Sheffield just fainted from your story. Yes, he’s very grateful you shared it with him but he’s on the ground now. I gotta go wake him up. Talk later, mwah mwah.” She threw the receiver down against the desk before turning back to face him.
He quickly rearranged his face into something resembling contrite.
“I really am sorry, Miss Fine. I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Anything? Even that new sonic nail dryer?”
“Anything, I promise.”
“Good, because I bought the dryer last week. What I really want…is this.” She gestured down at where he sat, strained and ready. “I think you at least owe me that much.”
She slid off the desk, stepping into the space between them, before placing one leg either side of his thighs and lowering herself onto his lap. He gasped quietly as she leant forward, lacing her fingers behind his neck and grinding herself along his readied length. Her skirt rode up, the lace garter of her stockings visible, as the chair creaked in gentle protest for all the sins they were about to commit.
“Miss Fine…”
“Shhhh, Mr. Sheffield. I’m not done punishing you yet. Unless…you want me to let you off with a warning?”
She moved to stand up. His hands flew up automatically and pulled her back down onto him, angling so that his hardness connected right between her thighs. He ground roughly against her and for the first time she faltered, a soft moan escaping her lips and betraying just how badly she wanted this, too.
“Teach me a lesson, Miss Fine.”
She gripped his tie, pushing her body up against his, long slow drags along him, before rolling her hips and repeating the motion. He wanted to resist, to maintain his gentlemanly vigour, but his restless fingers left the safety of the armrests and found their way first to her legs and then up in between them. His hands glided up under her skirt, following the trail of warm, wet lace until he found her clit, hot and burning for contact. He used the pads of his fingers to massage her, soft at first and then firm and relentless.
Their tongues probed deeper, hers fighting for dominance and his fighting for his life. His hips bucked up into her with every drag along his length, the flimsy fabric of her panties the only thing stopping them from dissolving into each other completely. Anchored by only his hand on her hip, he ground her down into him with every wave, setting a pace both punishing and hedonistic.
She rocked instinctively, the pressure building low and deep in the pit of her stomach. She’d only intended to tease him, slow and torturous, but his length rubbed mercilessly against where she was wet and aching, pulling against her clit with perfect precision. Her breath hitched mid kiss and Maxwell suddenly felt emboldened, confidence growing. He rubbed his fingers against her faster, the other hand sliding around to cup her ass, dragging her down onto him with just enough force to be deadly. She whined quietly into his shoulder and sensing her need, he leant in, lips brushing against her ear in a husky whisper.
“Don’t hold it in, Miss Fine. Let me make it up to you.”
In the deep recesses of his mind, she had straddled him on his office chair like this many times before, his name on her lips as he brought her to completion. If his punishment was getting to watch her come undone at his doing, then he’d have to remember to get in trouble far more often.
Maxwell angled up hard against her, meeting every frantic glide with a firm thrust. His fingers traced determined circles as his tongue moved against her earlobe. She was panting now, tugging his tie for leverage, shocked that she was about to come from simply grinding against her rock-hard boss. In one swift motion, she gripped his tie again, but instead of pulling him close to her, she slid one hand up to tighten it against his shirt, rendering her in charge.
"Tell me you're sorry, Mr. Sheffield."
"I'm very sorry, Miss Fine." His voice dropped an octave. "Now if you accept my apology, will you come for me?"
A wet patch was spreading along his pants, a mixture of her soaked panties and his own insatiable need. She rolled herself down against him again, her clit connecting just so as he ground himself up into her one final time before she crumbled and came hard against him. His thrusts continued between her shaking legs, her cries swallowed by his mouth clamped against hers, fingers gradually slowing their massage. She slumped against him with a satisfied shiver, still feeling him pulsing between her and resisting the urge to clench her thighs around him.
She rocked gently forward, rolling into the last waves of her orgasm, fingers still interlaced behind him, her forehead resting against his shoulder.
“Well, that’s one way to say you’re sorry.”
He let out a wry chuckle, but his face betrayed him, wrecked with unfulfilled craving.
“Well, Miss Fine, if by ‘slow and painful’ you meant this,” his eyes casting down to where he was stiff and swollen against his pants, “then consider your punishment, although deserved, very much received. I believe a cold shower might be in order.”
She laughed in barely concealed delight, before leaning in to nip against his ear lobe.
“Oh Honey, even I’m not that cruel.”
In one swift motion, she slid carefully off his lap and sank to her knees, using one hand to slowly drag his zipper down as the other steadied herself against his thigh.
“What…what are you doing?”
“Don’t worry, if Niles walks in, just tell him I’m giving you a foot massage.”
“But, I–”
“Oh, and one last thing. This feels more like a reward than a punishment. Sooo…I’m gonna need you to call Ma back, or this doesn’t happen.”
“I beg your pardon?!”
“It’s okay, Mr. Sheffield. You can say no if you want to.”
She rested back on her heels and waited, a look of smug patience on her face. He knew he would have to say no.
------------------------------------------
“Hello, Sylvia? Yes, Maxwell Sheffield here again. Yes, yes I’m fine. No, I only fainted for a minute.”
He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down at the gorgeous nanny between his legs, hoping to call her bluff. She beamed back at him, her fingers tugging lightly against the tented fabric. He shuddered, caught somewhere between overpowering lust and horror. She really was serious.
“Yes well unfortunately due to my uh…fainting mishap…you never did get to finish your story and I…” He swallowed hard again, face pained. “I very much wanted to hear the rest of it.”
Maxwell watched her lean forward to pop his button and pull him free from his underwear. Her eyes widened in surprise at his engorged state, solid and wet from where he’d previously been dripping against her. It would have almost been humiliating how turned on he was under such highly questionable circumstances, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to care much about anything right now beyond getting her to touch him, preferably as soon as possible.
Fran took him confidently in her hand; licking along him, light, teasing, before circling his head with her tongue and taking him in her mouth. He let out a deep groan, completely forgetting the phone against his ear.
“Ohhhhh…
…yes Sylvia…I’m just so..sorry. For your pain…”
She released him momentarily, long enough for his eyes to spring open at the lack of contact, before using her tongue to lace around the tip of him, collecting the moisture that had gathered there. She took his shaft back in her mouth and Maxwell’s eyes rolled back, his thighs trembling against her hand.
“Miss…Fine…
…Uh, yes, Miss Fine, your daughter, is wonderful at…taking care of…the household. ”
She used one hand to stroke up the base of him, her mouth moving in tandem, a rhythm designed to bring him to submission, but not quite completion.
“Yes, yes, I’ll be sure to hold onto her, she does do a very good job.”
He laced a hand into her curls, his fingers attempting to secure anything tangible as part of his last grip with reality.
“Oh God, yes…
…Yes I’m sure you….do miss…your uterus…sometimes.”
It took all his willpower not to push his hips up against her, the sight of her mouth moving up and down his shaft almost undoing him. She was certifiably crazy, he thought, not the least because her mother was on the other end of the line and he was pretty sure this was not something that Jewish women were supposed to do.
“Right now? She’s uh…busy.”
He could feel it, the telltale rumble of pressure building inside him, curdling his insides and stealing his breath. He had to tell her, to warn her, they hadn’t discussed if she was okay with him…
He scrunched his eyes shut, knuckles white as he gripped the armrests. Forgetting the receiver completely, he forced his last semblance of breath to cooperate.
“Miss…I’m about to…to come…”
Her eyes met his with an expression of unfiltered mischief, a smirk visible even with her mouth firmly occupied. She doubled down, sucking hard with one hand as the other wrapped around the base of him, steadily stroking upwards.
Sylvia’s nasal voice crackled through the line.
Wha? What was that, Mistah Sheffield? Who’s coming over?
“I said I’m about to come and see you very soon GOODBYE SYLVIA—-
—Ohhhh God, Miss Fine!”
He hung up and threw the receiver down just as his orgasm hit, releasing into her mouth in several powerful jolts as his fingers braced against her scalp. She continued moving, coaxing his release until she felt his hand gradually loosen against her curls and slip down beside her.
He looked at her as she stood up, carefully wiping the lipstick from where it had smeared against her mouth. A delighted, raspy laugh escaped her as the world stopped spinning on its axis and the room slowly came back into focus.
“You are absolutely, certifiably out of your mind, do you know that?”
“You had the choice to call her back or not, Mr Sheffield.”
She repositioned herself back on the corner of the desk as Maxwell attempted to make himself decent again, buttoning his oversized suit jacket over the damp patch on his slacks. She straightened his tie, their usual routine almost laughably domestic after what just transpired. She picked up the issue of Gloss and started flicking through it casually, perfunctory, as though she wasn’t overwhelmingly pleased with the chaos that she had just orchestrated.
“So, ya wanna call Ma back and invite her over for dinner tonight?”
“Miss Fine, surely you’re joking.”
He stared at her in disbelief. She glanced back at him with a look of smug self-assurance on her face.
A beat passed. Neither of them spoke.
---------------------------
“Oh, hello Sylvia? Maxwell Sheffield here again. Yes, yes, I know, I can’t stay away. Now, about that crusted salmon dish you wanted…..”