Page 32 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

She slid the information into her briefcase. "Thanks, Carlos. I appreciate your help."

Traci walked slowly through the lobby, taking time to admire the many nooks and crannies available for patrons to meet and socialize before she made her way to her room. She was thrilled her room was on a high floor. She had a view to the east and glimpsed Lake Michigan peeking through several tall skyscrapers surrounding the hotel. How different the view was here than in Eagle’s Pass. Both had a beauty; one man-made, the other natural.

She took time to unpack, ironing all of her skirts and dresses for the week, knowing she'd feel more confident looking her best. Traci ordered lunch in her room and spent time reviewing her presentation. She'd had her research paper and supporting documents made into professional looking handouts for other attendees. Even if her presentation wasn’t well received as she delivered the keynote speech, she hoped her research would speak for itself for anyone who took the time to review it.

By 3:00 p.m., she felt ready to tackle the world. She'd spent time in front of the full-length mirror giving a final pep talk to the pale woman who stared back at her. It reminded her of her high school debate team days. She'd always done better if she'd spent time coaching herself before her performance. This week was no different.

The registration area was already busy by the time she arrived. She was relieved to bump into a few peers she'd met several years ago. With each person she met, Traci's confidence grew. Everyone was friendly, and a few showed genuine interest in her upcoming presentation on Wednesday afternoon. All was going well. Until...

She heard him first. Robert's booming, deep voice carried across the foyer with ease, washing over her like a blanket of dread. She plastered a smile on her face as she excused herself from her current conversation, planning on circling away from him to make her escape. She was almost away when she was stopped by another presenter to talk about the schedule. The delay gave Dr. Meyer time to make his way to her side.

She felt him join the small group gathered nearby. Out of the corner of her eye, she confirmed he was as hot as ever. Tall, dark, and handsome. She'd always been a sucker for a well-dressed guy. On the surface, he looked like the full-package — looks, brains, money, and even a doctor.

"Well, if it isn't Traci Jackson. I was wondering if you'd show up. Too bad you had to cut out early last year. I hope it wasn't due to anything I'd said. I just call it like I see it."

How could I have not seen what a fake blowhard this guy was last year?

"Hello, Dr. Meyer. I'm surprised you wasted any time thinking about me and wondering if I'd be here. I got the impression from you last year that you weren't interested in my research." Traci added on a broad smile, forcing herself to remain calm.

Unfortunately, he was joined by the two doctor wannabes that seemed to follow him everywhere he went, hanging on his every word. Their presence seemed to bolster Robert's confidence.

"Oh, I wouldn't miss your presentation this year for anything. Every conference has at least one session meant to titillate us to keep everyone from getting bored. Looks like the organizers want to introduce a little hanky-spanky. I can't wait to hear what the Spanko Shrink has come up with. It will be entertaining, if nothing else."

With each sentence he uttered, Traci felt her panic rising. She hated that she allowed anyone to intimidate her the way Robert did. She liked to think she would be handling him differently if she hadn't been intimate with him. Unfortunately, knowing her judgment had been so wrong about the kind of man he was, shook her confidence in herself.

The small group had fallen into an awkward silence. It's not like she expected anyone to come to her defense.

Why would they defend me if I can't even defend myself?

Her stomach lurched and she regretted eating lunch. "If you'll all excuse me." She pressed through the group, rushing out the door in search of the nearest women's room. Traci wasn't too far away to hear the mean-spirited laughter chasing after her from the group she'd just left.

At the end of the ballroom foyer, she turned a corner and found a pair of restrooms just in time. The large washroom was empty. Dropping her purse and briefcase in a nearby seating area, Traci ran into a stall just in time to deposit her Cobb salad into the toilet bowl.

She hated throwing up. Who didn’t? Yet this time seemed worse, because she felt shame creeping in that she'd once again allowed an asshole like Robert Meyer to intimidate her. Traci vowed to wash her self-pity and fear down the toilet along with the last contents of her stomach.

Her mouth was in need of a toothbrush, but she settled for rinsing her mouth at the row of sinks. The makeup around her eyes was smeared. She noted the reflection of the row of stalls behind her and saw that one door was closed. That wasn't what caught her attention. It was the smoke wafting up from the bay, burning her nose, which was of interest. Traci's annoyance at the sight quickly turned to concern that the errant smoker was going to set off the fire alarm.

"You know smoking in here is against the law, right?" She tried not to sound accusatory.

A fresh stream of smoke floated up and over the stall door just before a sassy response. "Yeah, well are you gonna call the smoke police on me or what? I'm not bothering you. Why don't you go back to puking?"

It sounded like the voice of a teenager. Looking under the compartment door, Traci saw a pair of legs covered in grey knee-high socks, black flats and just a hint of a plaid skirt.

A private school uniform.

"No worries. I won't call the smoke police on you as long as you don't make fun of me for letting my nerves get to me enough that I threw up my lunch."

She was greeted by silence. A last puff of smoke swirled over the wall before a brief sizzle of a lit cigarette hitting water was drowned out by a flushing toilet. The door slowly opened to unveil a lovely young brunette in her teens. She wore make-up and her sandy brown hair was pulled back into a chic ponytail.

The women sized each other up. As time passed, the teenager looked to be preparing for an argument.

Traci said the first thing that came into her head. "I wish I smoked. Maybe that would help calm my nerves."

The young woman's eyes widened. "You mean you aren't going to go snitch on me?"

"Why? Are you doing something that's my business?"

"Well... no... I'm just used to everyone ragging on me, telling me how stupid I am to smoke."

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