There was no suspicion in his voice - only curiosity.Brooks scratched nervously at his moustache, an obvious sign that heexpected me to come up with the answer. We had worked together so longthat we knew each other's mannerisms by heart. I was up to the task."We're making an unannounced tour of Ford stores in Oklahoma andArkansas," I said glibly. I hoped my face wasn't red. I didn't wanthim to know how screwed up our database was.He smiled. "Well, always happy to have folks from the Home Office showup. We don't get folks out here from Dearborn very often."Well, I supposed since they weren't even in the database, that wasn'ttoo surprising. I wondered how they even managed to get new cars in.Production had to be on a different database. When I got back home, Iwas going to have serious words with the people who maintained ourdata.Bill Forester spent the rest of the morning showing us around. Brooksand I felt pretty honored by the attention. Usually we got shunted offto the care of some. Each loud slap was answered as instructed, but sometimes it was more of a mumble than a number. Carla knew her blond bush was prominently displayed with each kick, but the burning in her butt was a bigger concern. At twenty-two, Carla begged for the spanking to stop. “My work will be much better, Miss Dalton. Please stop spanking me. My bottom is on fire. I can’t take anymore!!” “You are doing just fine, Carla. Now count out the last few.” As Angie delivered each crisp spank, the perfectly shaped bottom bounced, the head below lifted up, and a gurgled count was squeezed out. Each CRACK, SMACK, WHACK, was followed by a yowling that sounded like “Twenty-three, Miss Dalton … Owee, that was Twenty-four, Miss Dalton, please no more, it hurts so much ... Yoweee, that was Twenty-five, Miss Dalton. Please, stop, My tush is sizzling.” Daphne and Chris held each other outside the door and could only cringe for their friend. They wondered how far down the office the sounds of this powerful bare.
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