The Business Trip

Chapter 9
The Business Trip, Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

The bitter taste hit Elizabeth immediately, and it only got worse as June clamped her hand over the squirming girl’s mouth. “Mm mmph! Jnhp ngh!!” The firm palm against her lips made it impossible to speak coherently, and she only succeeded in coming across as how any actual child would sound when dealing with this kind of punishment.

June was both bigger and stronger. She was an active young woman who regularly went to the gym and did more physical activities with her friends. Even in her business attire, she could easily manhandle her boss who led a far lazier lifestyle–both at work and in her free time. “Lizzie, hush!” she snapped. Though it was thrilling to be able to treat Elizabeth like this, June maintained the strict aunt act as if she was merely committing to their established roles. “Hold still, or I’m adding more soap.”

That was enough to get Elizabeth to calm down. Physically, at least. Her eyes widened slightly at the prospect of June doing such a thing, as it was quickly becoming clear that Elizabeth was at her mercy right now. If June could drag her across the lobby and into the bathroom, she could certainly keep Elizabeth in place now that they were at the humiliating destination. Elizabeth shook her head, which was pretty much all she could do to communicate with her assistant. ‘No. No more soap.’ 

Of course, it wasn’t the gesture that kept June from making things worse; it was the fact that Elizabeth had done as she was told. Even when the petite redhead was somewhat still, however, there wasn’t a trace of maturity to be found there. Elizabeth’s blush matched her twintails, and she looked far less womanly without her make-up, heels, or absurd bra padding. “There,” June said, “Was that so difficult? Now, I’m going to take my hand away. I want you to swirl that soap around in your mouth until I tell you to stop. Can you handle that, Lizzie, or are you even less mature than I thought?”

Elizabeth gave a reluctant nod. She was too flustered to realize that June’s question was a subtle trap. ‘Yes’ to being able to handle the demeaning task also implied that, ‘yes,’ she was less mature. And vice versa, if Elizabeth had shook her head. 

However, June only framed things that way for her own personal amusement. At the moment, she was more interested in Elizabeth’s compliance than embarrassing the petite girl beyond what she was already going through. As bold as this punishment was, considering Elizabeth’s real age and status, June still felt as if she was walking a tightrope. If she slipped up and Elizabeth caught on to the fact that all of this was a lot more than a ‘solution’ to a plausible circumstance, June had no idea what would happen. Aside from the initial wardrobe mix-up, June was making things up as she went.

“Good,” June said. With one more stern look, she removed her hand from Elizabeth’s mouth, but kept a tight grip on her wrist.

Elizabeth wasn’t quite sure how to go about doing what was demanded of her. Swirl the soap around? It already felt as if the bitter foam was everywhere thanks to how her struggling and muffled attempts to speak had done some damage on that front. But with June staring her down, Elizabeth knew she had to do something. She awkwardly shifted her lips back and forth, then proceeded to do the same with her cheeks. After a small gag from the taste, the movements became more genuine. Elizabeth’s new goal was to keep herself from swallowing, which in turn led her to keeping her soapy saliva as forward as possible.

As the only one between the two of them who really had a voice, June took the opportunity to remind Elizabeth that this was the dynamic they had agreed on last night. While slightly twisting the facts, like usual. “You promised to be my niece today, Lizzie. If you misbehave, I will punish you. Next time, it’s going to be a spanking. Do you understand?”

No. Elizabeth did not understand. She wanted to explain how none of this made sense, and that the presentation to the family-oriented company was over. There was absolutely no reason for them to continue the aunt/niece dynamic, especially when it was just the two of them. She also needed to contact their boss and explain that she was, in fact, present at the hotel like she was supposed to be. But with a mouth full of soap and a bossy June towering over her, all Elizabeth could do was nod.

“That’s what I thought,” June said, “Remember, swearing is bad. Now rinse your mouth out. We have another presentation coming up, and I don’t want to be late.”

It wasn’t as if Elizabeth could do anything else but listen. At the moment, all she wanted to do was get rid of the awful taste she was dealing with. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a great way to get the job done, even when June let go of her wrist. The bathroom up in their suite had disposable cups for water, but that wasn’t the case on the main floor. She also didn’t want to get her hair wet, meaning one hand was responsible for holding her twintails back. Elizabeth had no choice but to bend over and drink from the tap.

At first, the water made things worse. The suds exploded in her mouth, causing her to gag and cough from a new wave of bitterness. Her eyes naturally watered from the experience, but she was determined not to let that turn into tears. At this point, the only way out was through. Elizabeth continued rinsing, spitting out as much soap as she could with each sip from the sink. Similar to hand washing a water bottle, it took an arduous amount of time for the last of the bubbles to disappear.

Her cheeks were still thoroughly flushed when she was done, and the red haired little girl hunched over the counter looking at her in the mirror was a stark contrast to the Elizabeth who normally stood tall in business suits, complete with heels.

There wasn’t much time to process this humiliating instance of the transformation. Like June said, they had another presentation coming up. The admin girl grabbed a paper towel and hastily rubbed it against Elizabeth’s lips. “There. Good as new.” June took her hand this time, rather than her wrist, and walked her back towards the hallway outside. “Let’s go, Lizzie. We have places to be.”

Maggie’s shoes were more comfortable than the heels Elizabeth had worn on their flight yesterday, yet she still struggled to keep up with June’s brisk pace thanks to the height difference. There was no awkward stumble this time around. Still, Elizabeth somewhat felt like the child she appeared to be as June dragged her through the lobby and to the conference room where the next meeting was. 

The rest of the day’s pitches weren’t nearly as important as the one June had already done with Elizabeth as a prop. That was probably why June felt comfortable coasting and bringing along her ‘niece’ to the ones that didn’t require the angle she had used before. Of course, there was still an expectation to bring in new business beyond Ruth’s company. A collection of smaller clients was good for their company as well.

After June greeted the trio that had already begun settling into the room, complete with an apology about needing to bring her niece along and an assurance that she would behave, she walked Elizabeth over to a corner seat that was similar to where she had been placed during the meeting with Ruth. 

While the others resumed their quiet discussion on the other side of the room, June focused on Elizabeth for a minute before getting into set-up mode. “I think you could use something to keep you occupied for the next twenty minutes,” she said. Pulling out a notebook and a pen from her bag, she flipped to an empty page. “Writing lines seems appropriate for a little girl who’s been misbehaving, yes?”

Elizabeth’s first instinct was to snap, ‘I’m not a little girl!’ That wasn’t actually an option. Putting aside the fact that she was nervous about June following through on the threat to spank her, it was also a bad idea to make a scene in front of potential clients. As satisfying as it would be to ruin the meeting for June, Elizabeth was ultimately the one who benefitted from the commission percentages and her salary itself that increased when she and her department did well.

Opting for what she felt was a more mature reply, considering her actual role in their company, she said, “I should observe. I’ll be the one handling their account, and-”

“Lizzie.” June’s voice was curt as she cut the petite girl off and simultaneously snapped her to attention with the immature nickname. “For the last time, you’re my niece. Nothing more. Do you understand?”

Not really. She just went through so much, yet still had no idea why June felt the need to commit to this so hard. But now was not the time to make another scene, as they couldn’t blow the deal with the potential clients in the room before the meeting even started. Also, she was seated, which meant June was currently towering over her. Elizabeth hadn’t stopped blushing since the mortifying experience in the bathroom; saying the demeaning reply certainly didn’t help. “Yes, Aunt June,” she reluctantly muttered.

“Good,” June nodded. She placed the notebook down and bent over for a moment to write in neat cursive, ‘My name is Lizzie. I am twelve years old. Aunt June is in charge.’ Then she slid the paper and pen in front of Elizabeth. “I think that summarizes all the important points. Let’s go with a hundred lines, Lizzie.”

Elizabeth took in the words on the page for a moment, then glanced up, “I don’t-”

June was quick to cut her off. “Lizzie. There’s only one thing you’re supposed to say when an adult like me tells you to do something. Did you already forget it?”

Of course not. She just said it. “No, but-”

“Then stop being a difficult little girl,” she insisted, “You are going to write a hundred lines for me, yes?”

“ . . . Yes, Aunt June,” she quietly echoed.

“Was that so difficult?” June asked, “I expect you to be done by the end of this meeting, or you’re going to have to write more.” Without waiting for a response or a reaction, she walked away and started setting up for her presentation. 

Now alone in the corner, Elizabeth tried to ignore the others in the room, praying they wouldn’t recognize her later. With her proper hair color, in professional attire, on a video call? It should be fine. She was just finding it difficult to trust such logic when she felt so embarrassed about her current image and how easy it was for June to age her down in such a way.

For the time being, all she could do was focus on the task at hand. She picked up the pen and reread the three short sentences, each of which was humiliating in its own way. Elizabeth also knew before writing a single word that her iterations would look so much worse than June’s. She had always had atrocious handwriting. Growing up, it was rather common for teachers to say she was ‘worse than the boys.’ When taking tests and working on handouts, she had to make a conscious effort to slow down and write in a way that would be legible to others. Of course, she didn’t care when it came to taking notes, as she was perfectly capable of reading her own chicken scratch. 

In her post-academic life, she wrote so little. The majority of her professional work was done on a computer or laptop, and she had a smart phone for personal notes and such. Being so out of practice wasn’t going to do her any favors.

Tentatively gripping the pen, she wrote the line herself.

My name is Lizzie. I am twelve years old. Aunt June is in charge.

She realized her mistake right away. By going slowly and falling back on her habits of writing more clearly when doing so for someone else, she had set a standard that was impossible to maintain. Elizabeth could write legibly, or she could write quickly; she couldn’t do both, and she only had so much time to write 99 more lines. 

Sighing to herself and making the choice to go for speed, considering how even her ‘good’ handwriting wasn’t particularly good, she began writing as if this was only something that she would see.

My name is Lizzie. I am twelve years old. Aunt June is in charge.

My name is Lizzie. I am twelve years old. Aunt June is in charge.

My name is Lizzie. I am twelve years old. Aunt June is in charge.

It was difficult to say which of the three sentences was more painful to write again and again and again. She was very much an Elizabeth. NOT a Lizzie. The part about her being ‘twelve’ would sound absurd under normal circumstances, except she really did look the part thanks to the make-over June gave her. And, of course, Elizabeth was June’s boss! An assistant wasn’t supposed to be in charge of her superior. 

My name is Lizzie. I am twelve years old. Aunt June is in charge.

My name is Lizzie. I am twelve years old. Aunt June is in charge.

My name is Lizzie. I am twelve years old. Aunt June is in charge.

As June launched into the pitch, Elizabeth belatedly thought about the math for the lines she was writing. On average, these meetings lasted twenty minutes. Sometimes more, sometimes less, depending on the Q&A section at the end, as well as any clarifying questions asked along the way. Which meant Elizabeth would have to write five lines a minute in order to get to a hundred. Short of scribbling to the point of the words no longer looking like words, there was no way she could get each line done in twelve seconds. 

Taking a breath, she made herself write another line while assuring herself that she had started during June’s set-up process, and there would also be a little time afterwards in terms of padding. And, if Elizabeth couldn’t manage to get to a hundred, it wasn’t fair to be punished for that.

My name is Lizzie. I am twelve years old. Aunt June is in charge.

My name is Lizzie. I am twelve years old. Aunt June is in charge.

My name is Lizzie. I am twelve years old. Aunt June is in charge.

The other problem with this ‘assignment’ was that it was really difficult for Elizabeth to mentally multitask. At least during the previous meeting, she was listening the whole time in order to prepare for the soon to be major client. If June managed to get the business of this group, Elizabeth was going to have to play catch-up later, and would probably have to rely on June for important notes and other details.

Fifty lines in, Elizabeth’s hand was starting to cramp. She wasn’t acclimated to using pen/paper any more, and her hurried pace was also causing her to grip the writing utensil a bit too tightly as she pushed through the endeavor. On top of that, June was wrapping things up and would soon be taking questions. Unless the potential clients had a lot of things to ask, Elizabeth wasn’t going to make it.

As for the presentation itself, Elizabeth had given up on trying to pay attention. She was too overwhelmed with both the lines and the events of the last couple hours that kept replaying in her mind. For the moment, all she could worry about was the time pressure. Just forty or so lines to go. If she was quick, and June didn’t check on her right away at the end of the meeting, it was possible.

Unfortunately, June went in the opposite order. After thanking everyone for their time, and shaking their hands, she walked right over to Elizabeth as they collected their things and left the room to discuss amongst themselves. “Well, Lizzie?” she asked, “Did you do all one hundred?”

“Umm . . .  ” Elizabeth trailed off. She had only been able to comfortably write fifteen lines on each page in the medium size notebook, and had barely made a dent on the fifth page. There was no point in lying, when there was a chance June would count herself to verify that she was telling the truth. “Sixty-three, I think?”

“That’s it?” June frowned. Sure enough, she took the book and flipped back to the beginning, “What is this, Lizzie?” she asked, placing the first page down in front of her, “I can’t read anything but the very first line. Were you even trying?”

“I was trying!” she exclaimed, “You said a hundred, and-”

June scoffed. “I should really make you redo all of this. But, since I didn’t specify that your lines should be legible, I guess that’s on me. How about this, Lizzie? We have one pitch to go. I want a hundred more, plus the thirty-seven you still owe me. This time, with good handwriting.” She ripped out the pages that had already been used, then pointed to the top of a fresh one, “Do your best this time, Lizzie.”

Doing it like that would take forever. And then there was the part that Elizabeth wasn’t thinking about–slowing down and being more intentional about the lines being readable despite her weak penmanship would subconsciously make her pay more attention to each word along the way.

As June began packing up, Elizabeth got to work right away, trying to get ahead while she could.

My. Name. Is. Lizzie.