Team Building

Complete Story

Prologue.

I sat at my computer, my fingers rattling across the keyboard as I put the final touches to my monthly project report and uploaded it to the company mainframe. Every indicator showed that my team would once again deliver under budget and ahead of schedule, which would be another feather in my cap as department head. I leaned back and stretched my cramped shoulders with a smile of satisfaction.

"Bleep! You have new mail," my computer announced.

I opened the message and grimaced at the screen: "Team Building - Leadership & Trust In The 21st Century!". Yet another time-wasting Human Resources seminar packed with psycho-drivel about "obsolete hierarchical dominance structures" and "leader personalities". I checked my calendar for two weeks ahead and could find no credible excuse for avoiding the session. The company CEO was wildly enthusiastic about these "paradigm-breaking" psychological approaches to management, so I could not wriggle out of it without a good reason. With a sigh, I opened the attached documents and read through the seminar details.

"Oh no!" I muttered. "Dressing up games? I really don't need this..."

The seminar would be an all-day role-playing session, and the company was even paying for appropriate costumes. This was apparently essential to the "psychodynamic effectiveness" of the session, according to Dr Holland, the facilitator running the show, and the instructions emphasised that the costumes were mandatory. Dr Holland had divided the group into pairs and allocated each "partner" a complementary role. On the day of the seminar, each pair was to get together privately, change into their costumes, and then spend an hour "getting into their characters' skins" before joining the group session for the rest of the day. I scanned down the list of pairs, wondering how a cowboy and indian, policeman and burglar, navy captain and pirate, and so on could possibly interact usefully, until I found my name. I was paired with Katie Wade, my Personal Assistant, and despite my irritation, I could not quite suppress a giggle when I read our allocated roles:

Andrea Foster - Schoolteacher.     Katie Wade - Schoolgirl.

I reached for my phone. "Katie, could you come into my office, please?"

A moment later, the door opened, and Katie stuck her head in. I beckoned her over, and she sat primly on the chair on the other side of my desk. As usual, she looked like central casting's idea of the perfect secretary. Prim pose, navy skirt just below the knee, lavender twin-set, and sensible shoes. Subdued make-up, thick dark hair falling straight down her back, and round, gold-framed glasses perched on her nose. I inherited her when I unexpectedly took over the department, and there was some distance between us that I had not been able to bridge, though she was never less than perfectly polite and competent. I had an obscure feeling that she somehow resented me, but when I asked if she would prefer me to arrange a transfer to another department, she insisted she was perfectly happy where she was. I would not admit it to anyone because I was, after all, the department head, and she merely my PA, but I secretly felt slightly intimidated by her, which only added to my unease.

"Have you read all the stuff about this team-building seminar?" I asked.

"Certainly, Ms Foster. It all sounds very... interesting. I'm looking forward to it." She said enthusiastically.

She would insist on using my surname, though I had asked her several times to call me Andrea. It was "inappropriate", she said. I frowned and went on.

"Really? It all seems a bit weird and a waste of time to me, quite frankly. Anyway, according to this, we're supposed to receive order forms for the costumes, so we can give the supplier our sizes. Have you seen them yet?"

"No, there was nothing like that in the internal mail this afternoon."

"Damn! Well, you know I'm flying down to Melbourne tomorrow to cover the new Purchasing System roll-out, so I'll have to ask you to fill out my form for me." I scribbled my measurements on a memo-pad, tore off the sheet and slid it across my desk to her.

"Of course, Ms Foster. Don't worry about a thing, I'll take care of it as soon as the paperwork comes in!"

She scanned my notes, and I felt a flush creeping up my face. I am self-conscious about my small stature, and giving her the evidence in black and white was acutely embarrassing. I stand barely five feet tall and weigh just over a hundred pounds. I am keenly aware of how much younger than my true age I appear, and I have always struggled to get people to take me seriously. I wore high heels, smart suits, and carefully applied make-up at the office to look older and more professional. I even resorted to wearing my red hair up in a dancer's bun to reinforce the image and make myself look taller.

It did not help that Katie was almost my opposite. Nearly a foot taller, with a strong, athletic body, she reminded me sharply of all the girls at school who passed me over when picking teams for netball. Although at twenty-four she was five years younger than I, she looked older, especially with her rather dowdy appearance. She tucked my notes into her steno-pad and looked up with a smile.

"OK, that should be fine. Is there anything else?"

I shook my head, "No, that's it."

Katie stood and left my office, and I turned back to my computer. The thought of her scurrying around as a schoolgirl made me smile suddenly. Maybe this stupid seminar would be a good thing after all. Seeing her dressed in a school uniform, and bossing her around as her teacher, would surely let me shake off these feelings of inadequacy. I was looking forward to it!

Two Weeks Later.

Katie carried the two large cardboard boxes into my office and set them on the conference table. I locked the door behind her and closed the window blinds. Katie slit open the boxes and slid one over to me, and I checked the label: Andrea Foster - Schoolteacher.

I opened the box eagerly and pulled out the clothes, neatly folded in plastic bags. Cream satin blouse, brown tweed skirt, a peach bra and panty set, matching suspender-belt and taupe nylons, an imitation pearl necklace and even a pair of very teacherly reading glasses complete with attached gold chain. Everything sensible but attractive, perfect for an idealised schoolmistress.

I looked over to my secretary, who was assembling her costume in a similar pile. A white blouse with a stiff Peter Pan collar and cuffs, a green and black plaid uniform skirt, white knee socks and a pair of black Mary Jane shoes.

"Wow, Katie! It looks like you did a fantastic job with the costumes!"

"Thank you, Ms Foster. I tried to be as thorough as possible."

I reached into the box and pulled out the last item, a pair of elegant, two-inch heeled dark brown pumps. I frowned; they looked like boats!

"Hang on, Katie... There's something wrong here... These aren't my size."

I slipped off one of my shoes and tried on one of the pumps. It looked like a little girl trying on her Mum's shoes.

"Oh dear!" said Katie, "There must be some mistake... I'm so sorry..."

"Don't worry; I'm sure we can work around it." I replied, "I'll just wear my own shoes instead."

"We'd better check everything else, though..."

We tore open the plastic bags. I held up the tweed skirt against me and then the satin blouse.

"Oh Lord! These are far too big for me." I looked over at Katie, who was holding up an obviously too small white blouse.

"I'll never get into this!" she wailed, "How could we have got the sizes of everything so wrong?"

"The schoolgirl's uniform looks too small for you," I checked the label in the tweed skirt, "and the teacher's costume..."

Katie stepped over and checked the skirt... the blouse... the shoes...

"My size... my size... my size... Oh no!" she looked at me aghast.

"You mean?"

"The costume place must have muddled up our order! Oh this is all my fault! I should have checked the packages before! What will we do! The seminar will be ruined."

"This is terrible... but we'll just have to explain... and do our session without costumes. But it's going to cost me; my boss won't be happy..."

Katie looked helplessly at the jumbled clothes, "Without costumes? But it won't be the same, and that Dr Holland says they're so important! If only there were some way... we could... I don't know... swap with somebody else? I mean, maybe we could play two different roles, or..."

I cut her off, "But we're the only two female staff in this seminar."

"Oh... Right..." she sighed.

"We can't swap with one of the other pairs..." I hesitated, "we'd have to..."

Katie turned to me, with an almost comical look of dawning hope. She looked positively worshipping. Ready to be dazzled by my brilliance.

"Oh Ms Foster! You're getting an idea, aren't you? I'm sure it's a good one; You're always pulling things out at the last minute."

"No... It was just... silly. We can't... I can't," I stammered, "But we could... swap with each other... I suppose..."

"Oh YES!!!" Katie clapped and bounced on her toes. "That's a perfect idea! After all, all that really matters is that we throw ourselves into the roles. It won't matter what we are, as long as we play our parts well!" She immediately peeled off her top and dropped it on a chair.

"But Katie... I'm not sure..." But I unbuttoned my suit jacket, and slipped it off.

Not bothering to turn her back Katie reached behind, unhooked her bra and threw it onto the chair, then fastened the peach satin teacher's bra round her full breasts and adjusted the straps. I half turned away, stepped out of my heels, and slid out of my slim pencil skirt. I took off my silk blouse and pantihose, and stood there for a moment in my bra and panties, fingering the schoolgirl blouse.

"Oh come on! This is going to be such fun!" Katie urged.

I looked over and she'd put on her new underwear, and was just buttoning up the cream satin blouse. She fastened the suspender belt round her waist and sat down to roll on her stockings. I picked up the schoolgirl blouse and started to button it over my normal underwear, but the buttons strained over my push-up bra.

"Please don't do that! It will look all wrong. There are undergarments supplied with that uniform, so use them!"

I looked up at her sharp, unaccustomedly commanding tone. She stood up and stepped into the knee-length tweed skirt, fastening it behind her and tucking in her blouse.

"Yes, you're right. It doesn't fit properly anyway..." I sighed, and undid the buttons.

I shrugged off the blouse, and unhooked my bra, blushing furiously at displaying how much of my bust disappeared with it. I rummaged the white cotton training bra out of the remaining clothes, and put it on. It was tight and compressed my boobs, making them look still smaller. I felt my confidence ebbing away. Somehow Katie seemed to have taken command.

"Good girl! That's much more suitable." Katie handed me a pair of panties. "Now pop these on." Her voice sounded different, deeper and more assured. She watched smiling as I reluctantly slid off my satin panties and pulled on the plain white cotton underwear. She clasped the pearls round her neck, stepped into her new shoes and slipped into my private bathroom, where she began to brush out her thick dark hair in front of the mirror.

I put the uniform blouse on again. The fabric felt stiff, especially the collar and cuffs, nothing like my expensive silk blouse. I looked longingly at it, lying discarded on my desk with my suit, silk underwear and pantihose. I stepped into the plaid uniform skirt, and pulled it up. It was short, coming to no more than mid-thigh, after I tucked in my blouse and fastened the waist.

I sat down on the steno chair where Katie normally sat to take my dictation, and was embarrassed to find my feet dangling well above the floor. I pulled on the white knee socks, and then hopped off and knelt down to buckle on the black Mary Janes. I stood, and looked up, to find Katie looking down at me with approval. Her hair was now swept up behind her head into a very teacherly French pleat, and her costume glasses hung from her neck.

"You look very nice dear," she smiled "but there are still just a couple of details to take care of."

She reached down and picked up my purse, and rummaged in it as if she did so every day.

"Hey! That's mine you know!" Even to me, my voice sounded squeaky with outrage; petulant and childish. Katie pulled out my hairbrush and a hair elastic.

"Well," she said in a rather patronising soothing tone, "you wouldn't want me to do your hair with my brush, would you? Now, turn around, there's a good girl."

She took me by the shoulders and turned me to face away from her. I felt her fingers working in my hair, pulling the pins from my bun and brushing it out rather forcefully.

"Ow! Careful!" I whined. She pulled my hair back again, fiddled with it some more and then turned me back to face her. I reached up to my hair and found she had tied it back in a high ponytail. She had even finished it off with a ribbon, which puzzled me.

"Where did you get the hair ribbon? There wasn't one in the kit was there?"

"Oh, never mind that. It looks so cute! Now let's get that make-up off you; It's far too much for a schoolgirl."

She pulled me into the bathroom and wiped my face vigorously with Wet Ones until she had removed every trace of make-up. It was totally humiliating to be scrubbed like this by my own secretary. But it was all for a good cause, right? She stopped, and washed her hands.

"There! Now lets have a look at you Andi!" Katie pulled me in front of the full-length mirror, and I stared at the reflection, horrified.

Where did I go? In the mirror I saw, not myself, not an adult in a costume, but a schoolgirl, no older than maybe fourteen, with her teacher standing behind with her hands on the girl's shoulders, emphasising her size and authority. Katie was taller than I anyway, and wearing high heels she simply towered over me in my horrible flat shoes. Her outfit was professional but flattering to her womanly figure, while my uniform suppressed what curves I had, to a point beneath sexual desirability. Katie's high cheekbones, full lips and elegant features were subtly enhanced by her make-up, while my face looked a bit round and babyish without the emphasis of cosmetics; pink and shiny and dusted with the freckles I normally took such pains to conceal. Katie's hair was styled in an elegant up-do, while mine was scraped back in a simple, girlish ponytail. Like a kind of vertigo, I suddenly felt... lost, with a growing feeling of being excluded from the adult world.

"No! NO! I can't do this Katie! I'll be a laughing stock." I tried to wriggle away from her grip, but she held me firmly and marched me back into my office.

"Oh, stuff!" she sniffed "You look perfect!"

"But-" Much too perfect, I thought. Katie spun me round to face her, holding me by one shoulder and lifted my chin in her fingers, forcing me to look her in the eye. She looked so very much the part too; The firm teacher remonstrating with the petulant child.

"You'll make a perfect schoolgirl." She patted my cheek. "Of course you will." She took my hand, pulled me back to the steno chair in front of my desk and pushed me onto the seat. "Now, let's just get ourselves into character, shall we?"

"All right..." I said shakily. That was the point of this whole exercise after all. She picked up a notepad and pencil from my desk and pushed them into my hands. "What's this for, Katie?"

"Andi, you know better than that! You must address me as Ms Wade." She snapped with more than a hint of steel in her voice. "I am your teacher, after all."

"Well... for the role play... but we're only preparing here... and I am still your supervisor..." Aren't I? asked a little voice in the back of my head. I did not feel much like her boss at the moment. In fact I was about to sink though the chair with embarrassment. Katie gave me a stern look and stepped up close to me. I shrank back involuntarily.

"Andi, who am I?" She reached down and lifted my chin again, more forcefully this time. "If we are going to do this, we need to do it right, so... Who am I?"

"You're my... my... teacher...?"

"Indeed I am. And how should a polite little girl address her teachers?"

"By their last name... Ms Wade." I said with a weak smile.

"Very good, Andi."

Katie released me and walked round my desk, pausing to pick up a folder from the credenza. She settled herself comfortably in my leather chair, behind my desk, and opened the folder, taking out a slim paperback volume. She lifted the costume "teacher" glasses from her bosom and settled them on her nose, glancing at me over the lenses.

"Maths test. Pencils ready class!"

Katie began reading out a long string of elementary arithmetic problems. "Eight times twelve... sixty divided by five... nine plus four minus three..."

I scribbled away. The problems were simple, but she read them off so quickly, I began to fall behind.

"You're going too fast Ka- Ms Wade... Slow down..." Katie snapped the book shut and glared at me over her glasses. "please?" I finished in a small voice.

"Do not interrupt the lesson, child!' she snapped, "We will resume." She opened the book again and started to read the problems even faster.

I swallowed a retort. We haven't prepared for these roles; she's just trying to make this work, I thought. But soon I had no time to think; I was just frantically trying to keep up. My eyes were swimming, and hand soon started to ache and cramp up; I'd spent too much time typing on the computer, and not enough with pen and paper.

Suddenly Katie stopped reading. "Pencils up, class! Get ready for corrections!"

I looked down at my answers. The pages of my notebook were covered with increasingly sloppy numerals. By the end of the test, my work looked embarrassingly childish. Katie handed me a stubby red pencil. I had a hard time fitting my cramped fingers round it and held it clumsily.

"Circle each incorrect answer." She read off a series of numbers.

The first mistake came all too quickly, and there were more to be circled before long, more and more as we went on through the test. I felt so inadequate, and completely humiliated. The sums were ridiculously simple... Katie just went so fast, and...

"Now count your mistakes and write the number at the top of the first page."

I counted them up. Oh God... nearly half of them were wrong! I hesitated... but finally wrote the total in rather large and wobbly red figures.

"Andi, what is your total?"

"Umm... twenty, Ms Wade..."

"Twenty? A bright girl like you?" Katie stared at me, not so much disappointed, as disbelieving, and growing annoyed.

"But you went too fast!" My cheeks burned, and my protest sounded childish in my own ears. Somehow the fact that I had a degree in Mathematics seemed... forgotten. Even by me!

"Andi, there is something far worse than failing a test! That is to fail to try; not to apply yourself. And there is something even worse than that, Andi. That is, to make excuses!"

I looked down at my notebook. At the messy scribble, and the mistakes. "But I did try, Ms Wade..."

"Enough! No more whining!" She cut me off. I stared at her, open-mouthed. "I know you are bright enough to do this assignment Andi, but you obviously need some motivation. Stand up and come over here!"

I hopped off the chair and came round the desk. Somehow the fact that this was my desk in my office seemed forgotten. For now it was the teacher's desk in her classroom. Katie stood up and pointed at the desktop.

"Andi, bend over the desk; Palms and elbows on the top."

"What?" I suddenly realised what she meant. "No! Katie, this is going too far..."

Eyes blazing, Katie came round the desk and put a hand between my shoulder blades, shoving me down flat on the desktop. I tried to push up, but I never realised how strong she was. One hand in the middle of my back held me down without apparent effort, while she flipped up my short pleated skirt with the other.

"Katie! Please!" I squealed as I felt her fingers hook the waistband of my cotton briefs and pull them down.

"What did you call me?" Katie hissed. With her free hand she pulled open the top drawer of the desk. She rummaged for a moment amongst the pens and paper clips, and pulled out a long wooden ruler. It looked brand new, and I knew I'd never seen it before. Where did it come from?

"I'm sorry... I meant Ms Wade..." I stammered.

"For twenty errors, twenty strokes! Count them!" There was a long pause, and then...

CRACK! Fire exploded across my bottom...

"Eeeeoow! You bitch!" I struggled helplessly to get up.

CRACK!

"Count the strokes!" Katie repeated.

CRACK!

"Ooooow! Let me g-"

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

"Eeeooow- One!"

CRACK!

"Two!" I bit my lip.

CRACK!

"Three!" I sobbed. "Please Katie... please stop!"

"You know my name, girl!"

CRACK! CRACK!

"I'm sorry Ms Wade! Four! Five!"

CRACK!

I couldn't hold it in any more. By ten strokes I was blubbering. By fifteen, my world had shrunk to my small, flaming bottom. But eventually the count reached twenty, and the blows ceased.

"That was twenty strokes for twenty mistakes."

I sniffled, tears running down my cheeks.

"But now there is another matter."

"What? No! Please!" I begged helplessly.

"You called me by my first name five times; That is quite improper for a student. And you are the student, aren't you Andi? And I am the teacher?" Katie purred.

"Y- yes Ms Wade. I'm sorry Ms Wade."

"All right. Five Katies earns you five more."

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

"And there's just one more thing, isn't there?"

I didn't answer. I just lay there sobbing, my tears pooling on the desktop.

"You called me something else, didn't you?" She ran the edge of the ruler across my burning bottom. "Didn't you?"

"Yes Ms Wade... I'm s- sorry s- so sorry..."

"What did you call me?"

"I c- called y- you..." My voice sank to a whisper. "a b- bitch..."

"And was that a suitable thing for a young girl to call her teacher, Andi?"

I felt totally shattered... humiliated... broken... Katie ran the ruler lightly across my tender buttocks once more.

"No M- Miss... I'll n- never do it again Miss..."

"I know you won't, Andi." Katie pulled me up off the desk by one arm, and hauled me back over to the steno chair. She pushed me onto the seat, with my skirt still hitched up and my panties round my knees. Less than an hour ago I had entered this room as Katie's boss, and now I was reduced to a tear-stained, chastised schoolgirl. It had all happened so quickly! The seat fabric was harsh and prickly on my tender bottom, and I shifted uncomfortably.

"Stop fidgeting, Andi!" She pushed my notebook and pencil in front of me again. "Open to a fresh page. You will write, one hundred times, 'Ms Wade is the teacher, and Andi is the student.' Is that clear?"

"Yes, Ms Wade." I obediently turned to a fresh page, and started to write. My hand was still cramped from the maths test, and my handwriting looked awful.

Ms Wade is the teacher, and Andi is the student.

Ms Wade is the teacher, and Andi is the student.

Ms Wade is the teacher, and Andi is the student.

Ms Wade is the teacher, and Andi is the student.

As I worked, Katie tidied up the office. She gathered up my smart suit, silk blouse and underwear, nylons and high-heeled shoes and hung them neatly in the cupboard behind my desk. She rummaged though my purse, turning off my mobile phone and pager before putting everything away in the cupboard and locking it. My elegant clothes, my purse and wallet, my credit cards and driver's license, all the trappings of my adult life taken away and locked out of reach.

Ms Wade is the teacher, and Andi is the student.

Ms Wade is the teacher, and Andi is the student.

Ms Wade is the teacher, and Andi is the student.

Ms Wade is the teacher, and Andi is the student.

"There's less than half an hour before we have to go," Katie warned, "and I expect you to finish your lines first."

Automatically I checked my watch. Katie came round the desk, holding out her hand.

"That's no sort of watch for a schoolgirl, is it Andi? Give it to me please!"

"But it's mine Ms Wade." I said in a small, whiny voice, and pulled my hand back defensively.

"It is not a suitable watch for a young girl like you to wear, Andi. It is much too valuable, and you might lose it. So I'll just put it away for safekeeping until... you're older."

Reluctantly I released the clasp. The gold Lady Rolex had been an award for 'Rising Star Of 2002', but that seemed like another world, another life. Katie took the watch, and leaned over to tap sharply on my notepad. I picked up my pencil, as she returned to her seat, and opened a desk drawer. My watch disappeared into the teacher's desk, like so many items confiscated in the classroom. I started writing again.

Ms Wade is the teacher, and Andi is the student.

Ms Wade is the teacher, and Andi is the student.

Ms Wade is the teacher, and Andi is the student.

Ms Wade is the teacher, and Andi is the student.

I barely finished the hundred lines in time, with my hand aching fiercely. I handed Katie the notebook, and watched in humiliation as she checked my shamefully childish scrawl, even circling several spelling mistakes in red.

"I can barely read the last few lines, but I suppose this will have to do." Katie tutted disapprovingly.

I could not raise my eyes from my shoes.

Katie stood up. "Well, we only have a few minutes before we're expected in the conference room." I felt her hand on my cheek, and looked up to find her looking down at me, smiling coolly but not unkindly. "Tidy yourself up, and get that face washed, dear."

I gratefully pulled up my panties, straightened my short pleated skirt and stepped into the bathroom to wipe my face with a cold wet cloth. I dried my face and hands and stared at my reflection.I would never have believed I could be so transformed. Of Andrea Foster, the department manager, there was no trace. Andi the schoolgirl looked childish, cowed and submissive; her eyes red-rimmed and... subdued.

"Andi! Come along now, child. They'll be waiting for us."

I turned and gazed at Ms Wade as I walked towards my teacher. So poised, well dressed and... adult. Her hair up, reading glasses perched on her nose, pearls peeping discreetly from the collar of her elegant satin blouse, her slim tweed skirt emphasising the curve of her hips, her sleek nylons (Oh, how I missed those!) setting off her long legs and of course the smart high heels increasing her height so that she towered over me. Utterly in control of herself. Of the pupil in her charge. Of me.

"I'm ready Miss."

"Very good, dear."

Katie took me by the hand, and I looked back at the locked cupboard behind my former desk. As she led me out into the corridor I realised that my adulthood, and independence were securely locked away inside. Everything that made me an adult was in there; my smart tailored suit, my silk blouse and expensive underwear, my high heels and pantihose, my wallet, iPad, cell phone, car-keys, and in fact everything that made me Andrea J. Foster, Vice President, a grown woman and official adult was in there. It had all been taken from me, as easily and casually as a pacifier from a baby's mouth! I was no longer an independent career woman, smartly dressed and obviously in command. I had been taken in hand by my secretary, and reduced to an awkward little girl in a school uniform.

As Katie led me down the hall and towards the conference room, I pondered my coming ruin. I would be a laughing stock! Oh sure, publicly I would be commended for my apparently brave choice in swapping roles with my subordinate for the seminar. The president of the company, my boss, would praise me for my vision, and my willingness to shatter "pre-conceived notions of traditional power dynamics in upper management". My colleagues would all nod and cluck in approval. On the surface it would be another triumph for me.

Yet in private I would be a joke, the Vice President who had allowed herself to be reduced to a uniformed schoolgirl, completely dominated, and subordinated by her own personal assistant. Seeing me dressed like this, stripped of all adulthood and authority, my hair in a girlish pony tail, without make up, my illusion of height shattered, my skinny bare white legs bereft of my customary sleek pantihose and high heels. All this would be burned into the brains of my colleagues.

In the future, no matter how I was dressed, in their minds' eyes I would always be the shamed schoolgirl. It would as if my adult persona were always a sham, a carefully-prepared disguise to hide my true self, the awkward, clumsy, schoolgirl who needed a firm hand. Andrea J. Foster would be dead. I would never again be able to wear my smart suits confidently, or go striding about with poise in my high heels and pantihose, with my hair perfectly styled, without being seen as a little girl playing dress-up in her mother's clothes. Katie had seen to that!

My effectiveness as a business leader would be over. The seminars were brutally documented, with videotape and photographs. Images of me in my school uniform, in a short skirt that barely covered my underpants, with knee socks and Mary Janes, would circulate all over the company. There would be glances and smirks, whispers and jokes behind my back. No one would ever take me seriously again at this company! How could they? How could I lead a division as a Vice-President when I couldn't even do seventh grade maths problems? When I had allowed my secretary to take away my adulthood, and reduce me to a helpless little girl?

I was being led to my demise, to a new existence where my adulthood and competence were stripped away, and my second childhood would begin. To the room where my boss, and all my colleagues waited. Where they would see Andrea J. Foster stripped of her fashionable power suit, and the persona of the smooth and confident Vice President.

"Hurry along, child," Katie scolded me, annoyed at my dragging steps, as I tried to postpone my utter ruin and humiliation as long as possible, "we mustn't keep everyone waiting."

She eyed me critically. "And do stand up straight..."

The End.

This work is Copyright 2006 by Andrea Jane Foster. No part of this work may be distributed as an original work by another person or group. This story appears here with the permission of the author. You may download a copy free for your personal enjoyment, but please respect the author's wishes, and do not reproduce or distribute this story elsewhere without the express prior written permission of the author.