It was Wednesday morning.
Leo was driving to the plant for the first time in person in a long time. He had spent the full weekend and the past two days completely bed-rotting as he let his injuries heal.
It had been very effective. He could now turn at the waist without flinching, lift the bad arm above his shoulder without complaint, and breathe deep without anything stabbing. The ribs felt like ribs again.
Whatever Hibbert had done with that strange assortment of tools had worked more akin to magic than medicine. But Leo wasn't going to say anything. Good ribs were good ribs.
What further bolstered his mood was the conversation he had had with Manjula the night before.
At around ten the previous night, she had told him that Richard had called her that afternoon. The footage she had provided, the one with Apu cheating, was admissible.
That meant the petition was ready to file, the case would move fast. With Lionel Hutz representing Apu, the court dates would be available in a matter of days rather than weeks. Hutz, the former real estate man, had apparently filed his last motion in crayon instead of pen.
Leo wondered what color he had used.
No matter the color, it looked like Manjula would be a completely free and single woman soon. And any of Apu's assets would definitely be hers.
…
Leo finally turned into the nuclear plant's parking lot and parked in his usual spot. He sat in the car for a moment with both hands on the wheel and let the good mood settle. Then he got out and walked into the lobby.
The lobby looked different than the last time Leo had come in.
There was a security guard at the front desk. The man was tall, with reddish hair, and he was watching the front entrance with actual care. He nodded politely as Leo walked past. Leo nodded back.
'I have never seen that man before,' Leo thought. 'Then again, I am almost never here, so that is probably to be expected.'
In the corridor that led to the offices, a janitor was pushing a floor mop in long even strokes. The janitor did not look up. He had a serious face, a wide jaw, and a brown beard with a connecting mustache.
'That is a different janitor than the one I talked to last time,' Leo thought.
He shrugged.
It was not as though the same person would be working every shift. And at least this shift seemed more attentive than any other he had seen here. They actually seemed to know what was going on around them. Very different from the usual plant workers he was accustomed to.
Good for them, he thought, and crossed the connecting walkway over to the administrative building, where his office was.
…
At the top of the stairs he turned right and walked the long hallway to his office. The door was open. On the desk inside was a small light-purple shape he had been expecting to see.
"Mr. D."
"Dottie."
Dottie, his assistant, was slim and fair-skinned, auburn hair tucked behind one ear, dressed as she always was in the tight knee-length lilac dress and pearl earrings. Was she French?
She was sitting on the edge of his desk, her legs crossed at the knee, one heel hooked under the corner of the desk drawer. She had a clipboard on her lap and a cup of coffee in her hand. The coffee was for him.
"Welcome back, boss."
"Thank you, Dottie."
"How are the ribs?"
Leo had been keeping Dottie updated, in a loose sense of the term. She was the only line between him and Burns' side of the company, so she had to stay in the loop enough to answer for him if anyone asked.
Technically, Burns was mandated by the government to get the things he was doing fixed, but Leo was still under contract under Burns name. So he still needed to somewhat report to him.
That was why he had let Dottie know about the ribs at all. He had downplayed it, but still used it as a good excuse to not come in the past days.
"Healed, actually. It is like I never got injured," he answered her.
"That's great." She smiled at him over the rim of the coffee cup he was now holding. "You actually might be needed today, or maybe not at all."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you seen any new people around the plant this morning?"
"Well… I saw some people I have never seen before."
She slid off the desk and closed the door behind him before she started explaining.
"Yes, them. Mr. Burns has put together a company baseball team for the city championship game against Shelbyville. The game is this afternoon. He made a bet on it."
"A bet?"
"With another millionaire. At the Millionaire's Club. The number I have heard is one million dollars."
Leo, who had been about to take a sip of his coffee, paused with the cup halfway to his mouth.
"He bet a million dollars on a company baseball game."
"Yes, exactly."
He began to connect the dots.
"…So those people I saw are ringers?"
Dottie nodded. "Yes. Professional baseball players brought in under cover-job titles so they can play for the company league. Mr. Smithers spent the last week driving around the country signing professional players to one-day employment contracts. The janitor you saw is Wade Boggs. World Series champion. The security guard at the front desk is Roger Clemens. Seven-time Cy Young Award winner. Along with Griffey Junior and six more."
Leo closed his eyes. He opened them again. He took the sip of coffee he had been about to take.
"Well, damn… looks like those million dollars are his."
'If only market prediction betting apps existed. I would put it all on this game and make some too.'
He looked at Dottie again.
"Okay, well, that all sounds fine and dandy. But how does this concern me, Dottie?"
If anything, Leo had been thinking this was the perfect opportunity to get real work done while the whole plant was off watching the game.
"Well… when the company first put up the team sign-up sheet, before Mr. Burns made the bet and brought in the ringers, I submitted your name on the list. I had read your background when you were assigned to me and saw that you had played some baseball in college. I thought a small visible presence at one of the company social events would be good for your profile inside the building."
'Good for my profile, my ass! What a drag. Sounds like a complete waste of time!'
"Dottie. Why would you not ask me first before doing something like that?"
"I thought you would not mind. It seemed like a small thing, and you did have the background in it."
"That is exactly the problem, Dottie. You thought I would not mind, so you decided for me. Whether or not I would have minded is not yours to predict."
She looked down. It didn't take much to admit wrong.
"…I should have. There is no version of this where I should not have asked you first, and I did not, and that is mine to own. I'm sorry, Mr. D."
"Good. We agree on that. I know I told you I would be in the office today, but I didn't say to decide for me what I would do today."
"I'm sorry."
"Are you going to do this kind of thing again?"
"No, Mr. D."
"Good."
"But." She let the word sit for a second. "If it somewhat makes you feel better, with the ringers here now, the situation has changed since I put your name down. With nine professional players on the active roster now, the plant employees on the lineup card are decorative. You will not have to play a single inning. Honestly, Mr. D, you may not even need to show up at all… maybe you can sneak off?"
Leo considered that.
The out was real — she had genuinely handed him one.
But his name was down. And he didn't like to go back on commitments, no matter how he got into them. Even if it was just for a bench spot. And now, missing out would itch at him more than an afternoon in a uniform ever could.
And there was, he had to admit, an upside he had not let himself look at directly until just now.
He let the picture form. Getting to watch some of the most accomplished, best baseball players in the world for completely free. Only feet away too. And maybe at some point someone would swing, and the ball would go out and maybe… hit someone he didn't like. He pictured some of the plant workers he had found dislikable over the few times he came, the image of Burns flashed at some point.
It would not happen. Probably. Still. It was a pleasant thing to picture.
"Fine. I'll go."
"Okay boss. I should make it up to you, regardless."
"You should think about whether you are going to do this kind of thing again, Dottie."
"I already have. I will not." She set the clipboard down. "But I should still make it up to you."
She walked to the small conference table on the other side of the office, set the clipboard down on it, and then placed her palms flat on the edge of the table and bent forward at the waist, slowly, until the hem of the light-purple dress had ridden as high as the dress allowed it to ride and her palms were resting on the table surface. She looked back at him over her shoulder, eyes dark and inviting.
"You can release your anger on me, boss," she said, voice low. "Spank me a few times. We'll call it even."
'Wow,' Leo thought. 'I knew she had been deliberately touching my hand and flirting the last two times I came in here. But she really jumped to Bill Clinton and Monica levels real quick. She'll climb the corporate ladders quickly.'
Dottie stayed perfectly bent over the table, back arched, hands resting on the polished surface. Even petite as she was, the small tight light-purple dress stretched tight across the firm, round curve of her little ass.
Leo stepped behind her.
'I really hope this does not end up at HR,' he thought, looking down at the curve of her back over the conference table. 'Then again, I doubt this place even has an HR the way it operates. Either way.' He raised his hand. 'It is just too tempting.'
His hand slid over the smooth material covering her backside and brought his palm down in a firm, resounding smack right across both cheeks. The sharp crack echoed through the quiet office.
Dottie gasped, a soft, breathy moan slipping from her lips. "Mmm…"
Before she could catch her breath, Leo hooked his fingers under the dress and slowly lifted it up over her hips. The fabric bunched at her waist, revealing the tiny red thong that disappeared between her petite ass cheeks. Her skin was smooth and flawless.
He brought his hand down again, this time on her now-bare left cheek.
The smack was sharper, flesh-on-flesh, and Dottie moaned louder, sweeter. "Ah… yes, Mr. D…"
She braced onto the table more. Tightening her grip on what she could grab.
Leo alternated cheeks with slow, deliberate spanks, watching the way her small ass jiggled and turned flush pink under each impact.
"Mmmm.."
*SMACK*
"Harder…" she whispered between two particularly firm smacks, her voice trembling. Another low, throaty moan followed as his hand connected again.
*SMACK*
Her leg would lift up and those red heels would point up into the ceiling at times.
*SMACK*
By the time he finally stopped, her petite ass was beautifully flushed and glowing warm. Dottie was breathing in shallow, aroused little gasps, hips still subtly shifting against the edge of the table.
[video for scene in disc0rd]
[Invite: QYDg2kEAV]
…
Dottie smoothed the dress down over her freshly spanked skin. Then she turned to face him, stepping close enough that the heat of her body brushed against his.
"Now that you have released all your anger and are not mad at me anymore, you are going to need to be in uniform for warmup in ninety minutes, Mr. D."
"Why does a team of professional players even need a warmup to go against a company team?"
"Because the players are still technically under contract, and the contracts require a team practice before any sanctioned game. Mr. Smithers built it into the one-day terms. Burns has been really passionate about this whole affair I've heard too, so he's going to be there coaching."
"Okay, but give me ninety minutes." Leo turned that over. "Before any of that, the warmup, the uniform, the cap, I am getting some work done. The whole plant is pre-occupied, which means for the next ninety minutes this building is the quietest it is ever going to be, and I am not wasting that. The cooling pipe inspection, the foreman, the past days of reports I came in for. Those happen first. The day does not get to be a total loss."
"Of course, Mr. D. I will lay the uniform out while you do and wait for you."
…
After ninety minutes of running around the plant, dodging health hazards, and making phone calls, Leo returned to his office.
"All right, Dottie. I'm finished."
She crossed to the small closet and pulled down the folded uniform, laying each piece out neatly on the conference table. When she returned, she didn't ask permission. She slid his suit jacket off his shoulders, her fingertips dragging slowly down his arms. One by one she undid the buttons of his shirt, taking her time, her knuckles deliberately grazing the bare skin of his chest. When the shirt hung open, she pushed it off his shoulders and down his arms, her palms gliding over his skin in a slow, sensual caress.
She picked up the white jersey and stepped in close, pressing the front of her body lightly against his as she helped pull it over his head. Her small breasts brushed firmly against his chest through the thin fabric of her dress as she smoothed the jersey down over his torso, her hands lingering, palms sliding slowly across his stomach and sides.
Then she dropped gracefully to one knee in front of him.
Dottie looked up at him with dark, heated eyes as she unfastened his slacks and slid them down his legs. She held the gray baseball pants open for him to step into, then slowly — very slowly — drew them up his calves and thighs, her fingertips trailing along his skin the entire way. When she reached his hips she took extra care, fastening them herself, her hands lingering at his waist, thumbs brushing teasingly just under the waistband.
Finally she rose, picked up the cap, and stepped onto her tiptoes to place it on his head. She adjusted the brim with both hands, her body pressed lightly but deliberately against his, lips close to his.
"There," she murmured, voice low and warm. "You look perfect, Mr. D."
She gave him one last slow, appreciative look up and down before stepping back.
"Now please get out there with the team."
...
...
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[A/N]: Got busy a bit. Job you yknow? Or maybe don't know