Smita's Mistake

My phone rang. "Hello, this is Smita... Yes, sir, I'll be right there in two minutes." His voice sounded tense, almost strained. I felt nervous as I walked to his office. That was unusual for him. He was always so kind and relaxed. He never criticized me, and he always understood if I was sick or late. He was the perfect boss, and this job was easily the best I had ever had.

Feeling a bit more confident, I got to his door. I knocked softly and waited. "Come in, Smita," he beckoned me inside. I smiled cautiously. He smiled back. He was an older man. He must be twice as old as me. I was 26. "Sit down here, Smita." He pointed to a chair, continuing to smile warmly.

"Thank you, sir." His face grew more concerned. "Smita, we have a bit of a problem here. Mr. Morris is very upset. Someone has invited Ravi Singh to next week's luncheon that he is hosting."

I was surprised to hear this; Singh was one of my boss's business partners. "Well, normally it would be fine, Smita," he explained, his gaze steady and intense. "But Mr. Morris personally asked that Singh not be there. If Singh is there, we can forget about getting a new contract from Mr. Morris."

Mr. Morris was one of our most important clients from the UK. He often visited our office in Mumbai, which was where I worked. He was a middle-aged white man of strong presence. His authority was palpable, and I always felt an instinctive deference when I had to deal with him. Since my boss was very respectful toward him, he always treated me like I was his personal secretary too, not just my boss's.

Mr. Morris also tried to flirt with me often. I tried to ignore him, but each time he visited, he flirted even more. His gaze often flicked from my face to my cleavage. His eyes always wandered. Maybe it was my fault. I usually wore sarees to work with blouses that were cut low in the front, showing plenty. I would smile politely and play along, and I was flattered by his attention, even as I maintained a professional distance.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. "Did you invite Singh, Smita?" His question was so direct, I felt caught off guard.

"No, no, sir." But I knew I did. I remembered mailing the invitation. Why did I lie? I felt anxious, slightly out of breath. I knew I was a terrible liar. For a moment, I wasn't listening to him.

Then I heard him say, "Well, whoever did this has really messed things up." He frowned. Then he smiled again. "Smita, could you go back to your office and upload the invitation file for me? I meant to ask you when I called. I'm sorry, but I need to see who invited whom. Maybe then I can figure this out. Come back here when you're done, and we'll look together."

I felt myself blushing. "Yes, sir." I walked back to my office in a daze. Now, what was I supposed to do? You stupid fool, why did you lie? Why didn't you just admit your mistake? At the office, I got an idea. Of course. Just delete Singh from the list. For the first time in several minutes, I felt relaxed, at least a little. Quickly, I made the necessary changes and uploaded the modified file. Within seconds, I was walking back to his office.

After knocking, he told me to come in. "Thank you, Smita, thank you." He turned to his laptop. "Have a seat. I hope I'm not taking you away from anything, but this will only take a minute." He checked the file I uploaded. "Yes, no sign of Singh here. Perfect." He smiled. I smiled back. What a relief. Smart thinking, Smita. But suddenly, "Wait a minute, something isn't right here. This file was edited just two minutes ago. Look." I got up and saw his finger pointing at the modification time. Oh no. What now? My heart plummeted, my quick victory turning to ash. My palms grew clammy, and a cold dread seeped into my limbs.

For a moment, he looked puzzled, but he quickly understood. Then he glanced up at me, and his understanding turned to annoyance. "Smita, did you delete Singh from this file just now, before uploading it?"

"No, sir, I didn't." My face turned bright red, and I fidgeted nervously. My heart started pounding harder.

His expression became stern. "Sit back down, Smita." This time, the gentle tone was gone. A strange, thrilling shiver ran down my spine at the command. I felt an uncomfortable tingle as I slid back into my chair. He massaged his temples, a clear sign of stress, then stared at me from across the table. I looked down at the floor. I was too ashamed to look him in the face. There was a long silence as I shook nervously.

Finally, he stood up. I looked up at him towering over me. "Smita, you edited this file and deleted Singh's name, didn't you?" "Yes, sir." My answer was barely a whisper. The air felt heavy, suffocating me with my own deceit.

He paused. He shook his head back and forth. "Smita, I am very disappointed in you. I can accept mistakes, even an expensive one like this. But when you lie to me and try to cover it up... especially with Mr. Morris involved... this is a serious problem." His face was full of anger. I bowed my head again, this time lower. I wondered if my trembling was noticeable to him.

He walked into the next room. I could hear him shuffling papers or doing something. I then heard him talking on the phone. Who was he talking to? I couldn't make out his words clearly, but they sounded serious.

He came back into the room, interrupting my thoughts. He walked behind me and then walked around the room. Then he stopped and spoke: "Smita, I can't trust you anymore... And if I can't trust you, I have to let you go." These words echoed through my head as I felt a knot in my stomach grow tighter. Tears quickly welled up in my eyes.

I sat up and half turned in my chair so I could face him. "Sir, please... I'm sorry, I'm really very sorry." He didn't move. "This will never happen again, I promise. Please give me another chance." I stared up at him, my pleading eyes meeting his merciless expression.

"No, Smita. I'm sorry to have to say this, but what you did is unforgivable. Mr. Morris expects me to handle this, and if I let you stay, you won't learn your lesson. It's for your own good that you should leave. Maybe then you'll understand how wrong it is to betray someone's trust."

He seemed set on firing me. I felt awful. I'd messed up the best job I'd ever had. The truth was, I didn't want to leave. A deep, confusing warmth bloomed low in my belly at the thought of being disciplined, of being firmly put back in my place for what I had done. I found the idea of being taught a lesson strangely exciting, especially if it meant I wouldn't lose this job that I loved.

I made one last desperate plea. "Sir, I'm begging you... I am so sorry. I know what I did was wrong. I don't know why I did it. Please, sir, I know I need to be taught a lesson, but do you have to fire me? Please, sir, I'll take any punishment I deserve."

He walked across the room. He thought hard. He returned to his desk and sat down again. He stared at me. I saw a hint of resignation on his face. "Well, Smita, Mr. Morris suggested a way to handle this. It's not something we usually do here, but it's probably more of a British thing." I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. Somehow, I knew this wasn't going to be easy. "He believes a young lady who misbehaved like you did could use a good spanking. Something you won't forget quickly."

He spoke with a deliberate calm. His gaze was unwavering the whole time. My blush deepened, and I felt a pulse between my legs at his words. I looked down into my lap. "If you accept this punishment, you can keep your job. But it's your choice. Think about it."

I'd received spankings before when I was little. They certainly hurt, but I wanted to keep this job so badly. I stayed silent as he waited for me to respond. Finally, he'd had enough. "So, what'll it be, Smita? Take the punishment, or you're free to leave."

"The punishment, sir," I found myself saying. I squirmed in my seat as I spoke, and I felt my heart start to race. I looked up at him, my eyes wide with anxiety.

He smiled, looking relieved. "Alright, come back to my office at 5 pm sharp tomorrow. Don't be late."

"No, sir, I won't," I stammered.

"Also, I want you to type up a statement saying what you did wrong and that you willingly accept your punishment," he added. "Take it home with you, and bring it back tomorrow with your and your husband's signatures. I need to show it to Mr. Morris."

He walked me out of the room before I had a chance to think, and I returned to my work. Why, oh why, did he want my husband to know this? I was sure he just wanted to add to my humiliation. He knew that my husband was unemployed and couldn't really defend me. We couldn't afford to lose my job.

I just sat at my desk, doing nothing, worrying about my decision. Maybe I should have asked him exactly what this punishment involved. Surely he wouldn't be too harsh, but then again, you never know. I saw a new side of him today that frightened me. I typed up the statement and took it home with me.

My husband was first amused and then angry when he heard about what I did. I knew he thought I was sassy and hard to keep in line. He seemed almost glad to hear about my upcoming punishment. He signed the statement right away. I had little hope of avoiding the inevitable now.