Corinna, kettledrum (spanking - he her)

The rehearsal went as expected. Not worse, but not better either. The musicians knew how to handle their instruments, and all of them made an honest effort. Only one member of the orchestra didn’t make John happy. The timpanist fluffed almost every single one of her cues. That was unacceptable!

After the last note of the last piece had died away, he waved her over.

"Corinna. I want to see you in my office in ten minutes!"

"But I rather wanted to..."

"Don't argue with me! On time in ten minutes," he cut her off.

Exactly ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door and John called the visitor in. As expected, it was Corinna, the timpanist. He sat behind his desk and deliberately didn't offer her one of the visitor's chairs but left her standing there.

"So, here I am. What's so urgent that it can't wait, John?"

She sounded somewhat annoyed and aggressive, which didn't improve his mood. Originally, he had only wanted to ask the young drummer to be more disciplined and attentive and to show her the consequences if she continued to fail at meeting his expectations. But apparently, she needed a much more effective lesson. Let's see.

"The first thing is," he thundered at high volume, "that you no longer call me by my first name. From now on, I'm Mr. Wagner to you. Or maestro at best. Is that clear?"

Somewhat intimidated, she nodded. Satisfied with this initial success, he continued in a more subdued tone.

"And secondly, we really need to talk about your attitude. You miss every one of your cues. You don't pay attention to me, your conductor, which alone would be a reason to kick you out of the orchestra. Nor do you pay any attention to your fellow musicians. That is highly uncooperative and unprofessional. Do you understand me?"

"Ey, man ... sorry, maestro. I'll be more careful in future. Okay?"

Did she really think she could get out of this with such a lame explanation? And was that gum in her mouth that she was chewing on? John's blood pressure rose to unexpected heights. In this case he would have to change his tune. What’s the saying? She who will not hear must feel.

While he pondered the appropriate punishment, he took a closer look at the visitor for the first time. She was not particularly tall and a little plump, which she tried to conceal by wearing loose clothing, a wide green blouse, and a calf-length, pleated gray skirt. She wore her black hair cut short into a bob, from which a round face with a snub nose and a childish pout peered out of dark brown eyes.

He made his choice.