Where Women Rule: One Man's Journey Through an Upside-Down World (The Community Book 1) by R.T. Small

Author:R.T. Small
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2018-01-30T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 27

Janet surveyed the scene. She was not happy. Not at all. As she stood there, she was doing all she could to control herself.

“You moron,” she hissed, standing over the man who was on his knees, trying to recoil from her hatred. “That was not just ‘some knickknack’ as you call it! That was given to me by my mother. I’ve had it all these years. It was all I had left from her …” She took two steps forward and stood over the broken glass of what had been a beautiful crystal bluebird.

The bluebird was not the first thing Stephen had broken since being assigned as Janet’s personal helper two months ago. But it was, by far, the most valuable. Her mother had given her the crystal bluebird when she was a young teen. “Always remember,” her mother had told her, “when you look at this bird, how high you can soar if you try.” Now it lay shattered on the tile by the entertainment center.

Stephen was clumsy and stupid, Janet thought, and not very industrious either. Several times she had caught him on the beach, swigging down her wine, with other males he had persuaded to skip out on work that day.

He was small for a man, not much larger than Janet, who was slender, small-boned and only five-feet, two-inches tall. Stephen was a couple inches taller with a stocky build and a bland face framed by close-cropped brown hair. His attitude ranged from apathetic to groveling, depending on the moment. Today, he was groveling. He knew he was in trouble.

“I’m sorry, Janet,” he whimpered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry won’t solve this, Stephen,” she replied. Her voice was like ice and the hapless man knew what was coming. She had whipped him before — when he ruined her clothing by washing colors with whites and all her whites had come out light pink; when he had destroyed her favorite dress sari by putting it in the dryer rather than letting it hang dry; when he had burned, beyond use, an expensive piece of filet mignon in one of his few attempts to cook for her during his third week as her helper.

The Community frowned on using corporal punishment on the helpers, except following a Council hearing for the most grievous of crimes. Only Lisa was given free reign to use a riding crop on helpers who were lazy or belligerent despite the medication.

But what went on in Veronica’s estate home — or the Council members’ bungalows — was considered private. A couple of men had filed grievances. As a result, they were relieved of their personal helper positions, which were cushy jobs compared with the rest.

Janet walked to the easy chair and took a seat. She crossed her legs and glared at Stephen, still on his knees by the entertainment center where the accident had occurred.

“Get the crop, Stephen.” Her voice was even, calm, chilling.

“Please Janet, I’m sorry. Please don’t beat me again.”

“Get the crop, Stephen. I don’t want to do this either.

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