“Not now,” he said, and pushed her to standing. He went back to his papers, and she stood there, staring. She willed him to look at her, to pull her close to him, to at least let her wrap herself around his feet, but when he didn’t look up, she finally sighed and left the room. It wasn’t fair, and there was nothing to do. She sat in the dark living room and watched the clock. Five minutes went by, then ten, and after twelve minutes, she couldn’t take it anymore. She slipped down the hallway and hung on the study door frame.

“Out,” he said.

“I just wanted to ask you if you wanted some chai.” She knew he would say no, that the caffeine would keep him up all night. He didn’t look up, didn’t answer, just pointed his finger toward the door.

She sighed heavily, stomped her way back to the living room, raised the volume on the television, banged pots around the kitchen, sent a shelf full of books accidentally to the ground, and then he called her.

“What?” she yelled.

“Come here.”

She knew she was in trouble, could hear the calm irritation in his voice, and she felt the sudden rush. Now it would be real. She walked into the room and crossed her arms over her chest. “What?”

“That’s enough,” he said, and looked at her sternly.

She stood defiantly in front of him. Now he would punish her, now he would beat her for disobedience.

“I’m not doing anything,” she said.

“You’re not, huh?”

“No.” She could feel the charge between them, and she set her jaw determinedly and crossed her arms more tightly.

“If you’re looking to be punished, you’re on the right track.”

She felt her breath quicken, felt her body hum. “Punish me then. I don’t care.”

He sat for a moment, stared at her, and then slowly and methodically placed his pen on the desk. He stood, put his hand on the back of her neck, and walked her out of the study and into the hall. She felt her heart beat, her breath quicken, and she wondered if he would leave her untied, demand she stay still and take her medicine, but instead of making her bring him a paddle, he walked her to the front hall.

“Put on your shoes,” he said.

She was confused, and when she hesitated, he picked them up and pushed the shoes and her bag into her arms.

“Bad girls are not beaten,” he said, and walked her outside. “They’re sent home.” He kissed the top of her head and shut the door behind him.

She stood there, stunned. This was not what she expected. He was supposed to spank her and make her stand in the corner, but here she was outside and barefoot.