Bonnie’s Bad Morning

Miss Bonnie Eddington woke up gagging, in a sour sweat. She lay on her back waiting for her fluttering heart to settle into its rhythm, still tasting the whiskey. Last night’s sex had been more intense than she’d expected (or had thought to hope for) and  had left her sated and smiling. A celebration was called for. She had found the pint of Windsor in the kitchen cabinet when she moved in and left it where it was. She wasn’t much of a drinker apart from her nightly four or five  quarts of beer.  Her Pa had been a mean gin-drunk so she had sworn away from the hard stuff. But this was a special occasion. She poured a hefty three fingers into a jelly jar. She had no ice and wouldn’t have known what to do with it anyway. The whiskey went down like shards of  glass. She winced and followed it with a heavy glug of warm beer. Again and again.

When she sat up, the room whirled around her. Not very fast, more like a kid’s merry go round. It was still early, the room only gray in the predawn.  She flopped back on the damp sheets, shifted her legs, scrunched her face and farted loudly. She sighed and rubbed her hands over her belly knowing that if there was anything in there, she was sure she’d be puking it up right now. Where were her underpants? she wondered, sliding her hands below. Her body was slick  and her nipples reacted like grasping baby birds when she slipped her left hand over them. 

“Bad girls”. She grinned sleepily and  slipped her right hand between her legs. When she next stirred, she did so barely, just opening her eyes. She was on her side with her hand wedged between her legs, a finger still slightly inside.  The room was bright with sunlight. After registering that it was fully mid morning and mid week, she sat up quickly. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit!” She bolted to her feet too quickly and sat back on the bed. Just a little shaky, she thought. Nothing new. Hadda go though. SO SO late, third, no FOURTH time this month. I’m gonna get fired! She thought. 

In the bathroom she splashed water on her face then swished and swallowed a dollop of toothpaste straight from the tube. No time to shower. She looked into the tub and saw her panties floating in a few inches of cloudy water like a dead jellyfish. DAMMIT! Those were her last pair that were even approaching clean. When one had only three sets of panties, there was not much room for error or accidents. 

She sniffed her armpits, made a face, grabbed the floating panties and sopped her underarms, then dipped them back into the tub and wrung slightly.. Her Ma used to call it a whore bath she remembered, dabbing and rinsing herself below and behind. What self respecting whore would use her own dirty panties for the task? She tossed them back into the tub and did her best to dry on the damp towel that hung over the sink. 

The deodorant would get quite a test today. She rubbed furiously leaving  white chunks among the tiny forests of black stubble under her arms. The only perfume she had was a gift from her Ma and it smelled like a funeral home fire.  Desperate times, though. She sprayed a noxious cloud and walked through it sneezing like an allergic cat. 

She pulled aside the curtain that passed for a closet door and surveyed her possibilities. Superintendent Dexter preferred skirts or dresses for the teachers but with no underwear, she couldn’t chance it. A single stumble or updraft would upset the whole apple cart. Jeans were a no-no. She still had a few  of the plain dark polyester trousers that she’d worn while waitressing at her father’s pub. They were mostly snags and stains but would do in a pinch. They still fit her because her Ma had always bought clothes oversized so that when she “came into her body”, they wouldn’t have to buy a whole new wardrobe. She had come into her body well before leaving home but no one could tell because her clothes were so baggy. She was able to fold over the trousers into a full three inch pleat in front. An old leather belt cinched to the furthest homemade hole held them in place. 

The only remotely appropriate shirt that would hide the waistline was a long-sleeve red  jersey, too warm for the season. She looked in the mirror but had difficulty recognizing herself-her features seemingly bleached and rubbed out. She saw nothing but a smudge under a matted bundle of chestnut hair piled atop her head. She wanted to cry, but there was no time. She pulled a brush through the mess on her head until it fell to her shoulders,and slipped her bare feet into her  loafers, stopping only to gingerly pick up the banana that was on the bedroom floor and slip it into a grease stained paper bag. 

She took the three flights to the street too quickly and once outside, stopped to put her head back and breathe deeply. Not the best move given the dumpster beside her. She retched but nothing came up. When had she eaten last? Fuck it, who knew? She tossed the bag into the dumpster and headed for her stop. 

As soon as she hit her corner the 73C hissed to a stop and the door sighed open. Something went right. Because it was later than usual she had her choice of seats. It was the usual driver, Martha, a large black woman with Popeye arms. “Hiya Sweetie”, she said. “Gettin’ a late start today?” 

“Have had better mornings”, Bonnie answered, flopping into the seat opposite and one behind the driver so that Martha could see her in the mirror without turning around. 

“You don’t look too good”, Martha saidr. “You gotta puke  open the window.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Boy troubles?”, she asked.

“No.”

“Girl troubles? I don’t differentiate or discriminate. To each her own.”

“No, no…this is all me.”, Bonnie sighed.

Need Rain

i

Her legs seemed impossibly long,
Like they were telescoping as he rolled
Her underwear down her thighs
And finally past her bent knees.

Outside, buzzard shadows scudded 
across the ground, in ones and twos at first.
Then, as she rolled onto her side, offering,
In groups of eight or ten.

He had no desire 
to step out into the hot sun to count
Not because they’d see him.
They knew where he was.
They could sense dead things-
Even souls and spirits.
The parching wind crackled through dried leaves,
Drought doing autumn’s work
Ahead of the calendar.

She had cried earlier.
Though he had felt bad at the time,
He had no recollection of why. 
Now spooned against her 
He pushed in slowly-
Over her hissing.
She was as dry as the yard
And he had nothing to change that. 

Hooooooot!

Blinking awake, I couldn’t immediately place 
The sound. 
But at three a.m.
Any sound that’s not the buzzing of cicadas
Or tree frogs,
Begs attention
A clatter? A clicking bump?
There had been serious rain.
Was the river on the rise
Banging the boats together?
Might have to go down and lengthen the lines.
Grabbed the flashlight and stepped out into the damp chill
Where the halfmoon light glowed 
Weakly through the fog.
Hadn’t taken the time to 
Pull on my wet sneakers
-an ordeal in itself-
So buckled immediately when an acorn cap 
Bit into my bare foot.
Then again, on the next step when it stuck there.
I had to lean against the cabin’s slippery wall to lift my foot;
In my dotage I need either two feet on the ground 
Or a hand assist. 
I envied the horses on this, lift one leg still three down. 
The river was in good shape if a little murky
from the storm but the boats were riding fine. 
Cans were scattered around the patio
Probably a coon-long gone now.
A skunk would have left his aromatic calling card and coyotes would have announced
Their presence. 
I hadn’t carried the .22 out with me
Because shooting guns in the middle of the night
Just out of a dead sleep is 
The most appalling kind of folly.
Then, from somewhere on the mountain 
Came the mournful call of a Great Horned Owl
Too faint to have heard from inside. 
I tried to answer but sounded ridiculous. 
Embarrassed for the owl, I shut up.
He moved and called again.
Then again from the triple sycamore just downstream.
I’d clean up the mess in the morning. Appreciative. 
The owl was worth getting up for.

Transience

It’s full summer now,
Too late.
Two months ago
A pair of Orioles were tending their hanging nest
In a drooping branch of the old shag hickory
Not ten feet from the corner of the deck.

The industrious feeders bringing morsels to the three
Gaping beaks, snug in their bag.
Are gone now. 
Their hardscrabble life
Was entertainment for weeks.
But it’s ended now. 

The Orioles are still around
As visitors.
Flashes of orange crossing 
The river from side to side
Stopping occasionally to tweet.
But gone

My tired eyes follow an orange streak
Down above the shallows 
Where my old man, hunched in his jon boat,
Cigarette clenched firmly between his gums, 
Would take smallmouth on a spinner. 
In his time he killed more 
Bass than anyone along this stretch.

That time has ended.
Now his ashes settle in the same  shallows,
With the darters and minnows
Mingling with algae among the gravel,
Hopefully food for stoneflies... 

We’ll Write Our Own Story

He could see her down the alley, heading home. She was moving so slowly through the shadows that it occurred to him she wanted to be stopped, to be called back. In fact, as he watched, she slowed her pace to the point that she was hardly moving. She seemed to be not walking anymore, just languidly floating like algae in a light current. 

Then, in the darkest spot in her path, behind the hulking void of the American Legion hall, she turned and he saw a glint on her cheek. It struck him later as uncanny that he was able to see tears on his girl’s cheek from that far away in that darkness. The simple truth was had he not seen that tear-that simple trick of reflected light-he never would have called her back. 

He stepped away from the garage to be seen and raised his right arm and with a flap of the elbow and a flick of the wrist, beckoned her back. Seeing him she froze then, hurried no more, began to retrace her path, her pace quickening with every step. By the time she cleared the Legion’s shadow she was in full stride, long legs covering broken asphalt and her wet cheeks shining. He opened his arms ready to catch her. The slaps of her sneakers got louder before they stopped when she launched. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face where her neck should have been and squeezed his own chest hard, his hands wrapped around his own arms. 

Having braced for an impact that never came, he stumbled backward and spun to his right, dropping a hand to the ground to steady himself. Realizing that his eyes were closed he opened them and found himself alone in the middle of the alley. He looked around quickly. Nothing. His heart thumped. He started in the direction from where she’d come, scrambling, jogging and calling her name.  He saw her, didn’t he?  She saw him. She had been there. Hadn’t she? 

Spinning his head, he noticed a faint light in one of the bedrooms of the apartment above the garage. He raced between the buildings and thumped heavily up the wooden steps two and three at a time. The door was open. He burst into the space that he knew so well calling her name. He crossed the kitchen in two strides, Then down the hallway where the dull yellow light oozed from under the door. 

He grabbed the knob and tried to twist but it was frozen. Locked. The door yielded easily with a loud crack to a single thrust of his thick shoulder.and there she sat on the end of the stripped bed, elbows on knees, face in hands weeping. The ferocity that brought him crashing through the locked door vanished in the face of her sorrow. He slid to his knees between hers and gently and finally wrapped his arms around her. 

“What?” he asked.

“I know how this ends.” she said bleakly.

Enveloped by him, her sobbing ebbed somewhat.

“No you don’t”, he said. “WE say how it ends. Not you, not me but WE. It’s us, it’s always been us.”

“NO” she sad emphatically but without anger. “You won’t change. You may think you will, but you won’t. What you were is too strong, it will pull you back. And for that person, I am just a sidekick-the kid down the alley.”

“Not true.”

“True. Is true, Was true. Will be true.”

She was wrong, he thought. How could she be so wrong? He knew how he felt and everything he’d done had been for them. She didn’t believe him anymore. It wasn’t her fault. Without realizing, they had begun to speak different languages. His was the only one they’d heard for years. He had to learn to speak her’s.

He sat back on his haunches and untied her left shoe. He slipped it off and set it aside. Then rolled off her short ankle sock and placed it in the shoe. He repeated the steps with the other shoe. Straightening on his knees he grasped the bottom of her T-shirt and lifted it up over her head where she took over and pulled it all the way off shaking out her hair in a way that seemed triumphant. She never wore a bra and her small breasts, like orange halves, were at eye level. He again wrapped his arms around her bare back and snuggled his face between them. She shivered for the first of many times that evening.

She watched him, eyes clear and alert, as he unsnapped her jeans. Then  lifted so he could peel them down and off.  When he kissed the tops of her long thighs and moved his tongue inside of them, she moaned softly. Her panties were white with tiny red roses spattered over them. Little girl panties. She had others she would have worn if she knew this was going to happen. She yielded to his touch when he pushed her back onto the bed. She scootched backward to lay instead of sit. 

He put his mouth on her soft mound where it pushed against the cotten and breathed his hot breath onto her there. When he looked up, she was watching him wearing an expression he’d never seen before but having seen in, never wanted to do without it. 

“We say how this ends”, he said firmly.

“I might be starting to believe you”, she said, her hand touching his cheek.  

Insomnia #58

The two young women regarded each other carefully., as one would study a reflection in a full length mirror. One turned out her ankle and the other did the same and watched how the calf flexed. They were both wearing shorts, but not the same kind-one had jean shorts cut high enough that the pockets showed below the ragged hem. The other wore nylon athletic shorts that were similarly short. 

He suddenly remembered his mother in a bra and panties (he had to have been six or seven because they still lived in the apartment) twisting and turning to catch all views of herself in the long mirror on the back of her bedroom door. As she modeled, he lay on her bed pretending to read a book about the Confederate general Jeb Stuart. The book was over his head by a good couple of years but he was drawn to it in the library by the painting on the cover of a dashing figure on a horse riding through gunfire. But all he could think about was the crack of his mother’s butt which he could see as a dark line through her sheer panties. 

The two women were remarkably similar in build at least from the waist down and they studied one another’s legs carefully, each twisting and turning. 

“We’re not the same person,” said the one in the athletic shorts.

“Who said we were?” answered the other. 

“Your breasts are bigger than mine”, said athletic shoes having turned to profile to better evaluate. 

Both were braless in T-shirts, one gray, one black. 

“Your breasts are fine”, said jean shorts with a sweet smile. 

“Easy for you to say,” athletic shorts answered, her gaze squarely on the other’s breasts. 

“Anything more than a mouthful is wasted, right?” jean shorts said with the same-maybe even wider- smile. 

“Where’d you hear that?” athletic shorts said quickly.

“Frankie says it all the time…”

“He does”, she answered.

“Any luck on that front?” she asked, still smiling with a bit of concern.

“He’s coming around”, she answered in a tone that conveyed the opposite.

“Frankie’s a stubborn one.” jeans short said.

Hearing his name mentioned aloud in what had to be a dream caused Frank to stir. And when he did the slight pain in his shoulder from having fallen asleep on the couch was enough to bring him fully awake. He was in the garage, the flickering fluorescent above the workbench casting a dim blue that didn’t cut much of the darkness. He had no idea what time it was, but he could still smell Teena. She couldn’t have been gone long. 

He sighed and sat up, dropping his feet onto the concrete floor, only then realizing he had an erection. He reflected on his tent pole sullenly hoping it was from the two women in his dream and not of the memory of his mother in her underwear. 

“Oh well”, he sighed, rising. “Nothing to be done…”. He pushed himself down the leg of his jeans and picked his way through the clutter toward the door. 

Getting Back to “Us”

Hannah LaGrange was feeling it. Not the wine, she was just sipping. There had been an open bottle on the counter so she’d helped herself. Samantha wouldn’t mind. She never opened one herself-that would be overstepping in her mind. Timmy was back in his room playing video games never to return so she was alone. The warm breeze had dried her and the sun had just dropped below the tree line. She sat up and flopped her legs off the side of the lounge chair. Another dip to end the day. She sipped again and set the glass back on the concrete, stood and stretched. Just the thought gave her goosebumps! She padded to the deep end of the pool and jumped in feet first, slicing all the way to the bottom. She flexed against the pebbly bottom and pushed back to the surface. Just cool enough to be refreshing.,but she didn’ jump in the pool to be refreshed. 

She breast stroked over to the side where the warm water jet was. She had a small shiver when she felt it against her thighs. Then, with a final glance back toward the house Hannah let go of the side of the pool and sank, quickly pulling her bikini bottoms off.  Then she grabbed  the side of the pool again, pressing her body against the cool wall and, legs open slightly, positioned herself carefully in front of the jet. She actually chirped when she found the right spot. Wouldn’t take long, Hannah LaGrange was feeling it tonight.

According to her mother, Hannah was a “wanter”. That was when she was feeling charitable. When she wasn’t in a good mood she’d call her daughter greedy, grabby, jealous, none of which really bothered Hannah. Guilty as charged, she thought. She wanted stuff. Things. Nice stuff. Nice things. Didn’t everyone? Didn’t her mother? Or had she been so far down for so long she didn’t know how to want things anymore. She certainly didn’t want to be like her. Sometimes she wished that Samantha Lawson was her mother. Was that bad? Samantha had it all. What Hannah was desperate to figure out was how to get the things she wanted. Until then, she’d enjoy what she could, even if, like the Lawson’s lavish house and lifestyle, it didn’t belong to her. 

Sated, finishing with a moan,  Hannah pushed herself away from the pool’s wall and dropped to the bottom to retrieve her suit which she tossed onto the patio. Then, weak kneed, she pulled herself out of the pool, and wrapped herself in a towel and went inside tiptoeing back to Timmy’s room. She cracked the door-it was dark; he had put himself to bed. 

The next afternoon Hannah’s phone buzzed on the table beside her vibrating her keys. She picked it up and turned it over. Samantha. She hit the icon. “Hello?”, she said, on speaker.

The woman’s deep, syrupy voice filled the small kitchen. “Hi Hannah. Would…would you be able to stop by this evening?”

She hesitated a moment and wracked her brain. “Was I supposed to sit tonight?”

“No, no…not till the weekend. If we…” She trailed for a moment then came back with a flurry. “…There’s something I want to talk to you about, that’s all.”

That’s cryptic, thought Hannah. “Is everything alright?” Samantha virtually never called her to talk or to have her drop in when babysitting wasn’t involved 

“I don’t know, actually….But, I’m sure it’s fine”, said Samantha hesitantly. “Around seven?”

“OK”, Hannah said brightly, conveying none of the creeping concern that was starting to root. Five hours away. What could this be? she wondered. Maybe she wants me to go away with them to watch Timmy on a trip. She had done that last fall. No, that wouldn’t require a visit-they could talk about that this weekend. “If we…” echoed in her head. What had she done? she’d known Samantha since they’d moved here-over ten years ago.

She had played soccer with her daughter Abby who was a couple of years older than Hannah and off at college. This babysitting gig was the best job ever. First, they overpaid her, enough that it was her only summer job: they wanted her always available.   And Timmy was eight going on twenty five, so he was no problem at all. There was always some wine consumed-not alot and it was, if not encouraged, definitely condoned. The pool and the hot tub were major benefits. Samantha knew she had friends over now and again but they just hung out at the pool or in the great room. Of course,  there were the fashion shows, but how could Samantha know about that? 

Hannah shook her head and went into her room to prepare to shower. She wasn’t going to go on like this all day. She’d put it out of her mind and just wait and see.

At seven sharp she pulled into the driveway beside the red Porsche and as she walked toward the door saw Samantha through the wide windows coming to meet her. The woman greeted her quickly, almost coldly. Even dressed down for an evening at home she was a striking forty year old- gorgeous in dark jeans and black cotton shirt with sleeves rolled halfway up her forearms. 

Samantha didn’t immediately clear the doorway and Hannah gave her a quick hug in greeting. “Timmy is…?”

“He’s off with Craig to a father/son party at school. So it’s just us”, said Samantha, closing the door.

“Oh, OK.” Hanna fell in behind as Samantha led the way into the kitchen. There was a sweating glass of what Maddy knew to be Pinot Grigio on the island. This would be the time when Samantha would offer her one. But she didn’t. She picked up her glass and said  “Come,” Samantha led the way into the great room and to the leather sectional that faced both the fireplace and 75 inch plasma TV mounted above it. 

“Sit. I want to show you something.”

They sat side by side on the cool leather. When Samantha hit a button on the remote a video of the Lawson’s master bedroom materialized, the doors to Samantha’s walk-in closet wide open. Hannah’s heart sank even before she saw herself on screen, strutting out of the closet wearing Samantha’s gold lame evening gown. Samantha was a head taller so the gown dragged a bit. And bunched up top as Hannah was no match in the breast department.  Hannah watched, mortified, as she struck poses in front of the mirror then looked away as she slipped it seductively off and onto the floor. She had gone into the closet after showering from the pool. So in the video between fittings, she was completely naked. She bent slightly wiggling her butt into the mirror. 

Hannah grabbed Samantha’s forearm and sneaked a quick glance at her face. It was clouded but seemed to reveal no over-the-top anger. “You know what I paid for that gown that you just dropped on the floor?”

“No…”

“Not as much as that black one you’re about to put on…”

Hannah peeked at the screen in time to see her naked backside slip back into the closet. “Can you turn it off please?” Her voice was small. 

“Really? It’s just getting good. I like the way you accessorize. Especially the way my pearls hang over your little boobs when you were topless in my leather skirt. That’s coming up…You sure you don’t want to see it….The way you pressed your arms together to make cleavage. So cute. You should see it…”

“No…” it was a whisper. 

Samantha pressed the button on the remote and the screen went black. “Suffice to say, this isn’t what I was expecting to see when I left the nanny cam running. I started noticing my jewelry was moved around-not exactly where or how I left it. Then some other things; I always hang outfits front to the door. Always. Sometimes I’d find them turned or on different hangers.

How could I have missed that? wondered Hannah. “I…I’m sorry”, she said, trying to break the thick air that hung over them. 

“I thought it might be Timmy, playing dress up. That would be fine-it’s a phase-but I thought I needed to know what was going on. But no, it wasn’t my eight year old son dressing up, it’s his teenage  babysitter.”

“I’m so embarrassed.” Hannah said thickly. 

“I can imagine. Let me ask you…how can I trust you in my house? With my son?” Samantha asked simply without sounding harsh. They were not rhetorical questions.

“Timmy has nothing to do with this. He was asleep and your door was closed”

“Are you sure he was asleep?”

“I checked on him”

“Because he told me that before turning out the light he came out to check on you. You get that? My son came to check on YOU.  And he saw you in the pool. But you weren’t really swimming, just hanging on the side of the pool…singing”, he said.

Hannah made fists and pushed them against her forehead. Could this get any worse?

“I asked him where in the pool.  And he showed me where. I know that spot….Of course, on the other hand, if you’re going to have sex in the pool when you’re watching Timmy, I’d just as soon you do it alone.”

Hannah actually wanted to cry out of embarrassment but nothing would come. She knew this was bad, she was going to lose the best job ever which meant having to man the fryer at Mickey D’s over the summer..What would she tell people? …”I’ve never stolen anything!” she pleaded. “Never did anything….”she caught herself. 

“Go ahead-finish that sentence. What were you going to say? Never did anything that you shouldn’t have? Boy, that’s a wide net.”

“Please don’t fire me.  I love being here. I love Timmy. I love…”

You’re great with Timmy and that’s what matters.. If I showed this tape to Craig-you would be so gone, so fast.

“Please don’t show him.”

Yeah, so I’ll have to keep this from him…which isn’t pleasant, believe me. Because I’m really pissed at you. I don’t know that I can trust you anymore. I gave you-you earned-the run of the house-I was never specific: don’t try on my clothes-don’t dance nakend in my bedroom, but some things don’t need to be said, do they?”

“I was out of line…”

“Obviously. I didn’t check my underwear drawer. Did you…?”

“NO!”

“Oh good. You do have your limits.” She said coldly.

Samantha’s tone finally brought a tear to Hannah’s eye and a choke to her voice. 

“I just feel this will be something between us, I’ve created this thing between us.”

“There’s no “us” right now Hannah.”

“I’m sorry…Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?

It’s a shame you’re too old for a spanking”.  Samantha was speaking to the top of Hannah’s head as the mortified girl’s eyes were fixed on the table in front of her. Hannah snorted a quick laugh as Samantha’s words hung in the air. When she looked up there was a glint in the woman’s green eyes that might signal a way out of her predicament. Hannah shrugged. “Am I? I don’t know. Never had one.” 

“Never?”

“Maybe when I was little…”

“Lucky you. I wore out my hand on Abby’s butt when she was in high school.”

“YOU SPANKED ABBY?!” Hannah couldn’t believe it. The tall raven haired class treasurer being spanked by her mother. 

“Couldn’t get through to her for a while there.  Didn’t you notice how going into Junior year she settled down. You had no more drinking parties over here when we were out?”

“Yeah-and she HAD to be home right at 10. She said she was just buckling down on her studies.”

“She’s a brain-she didn’t need to study that much. But if she came in late I was waiting with the hairbrush with a swat for every minute past curfew.”

“I had no idea!”

Samantha seemed to consider. “I think that behavior rather than age dictates punishment. In fact when I got over my initial shock at your little fashion show-seeing your naked little tush parading through my bedroom, the first thing I thought was that girl needs a good spanking.”

Hannah shrugged. “Whatever you think Samantha. I’ll do anything to fix this.”

“Be careful what you wish for”, Samantha said rising. She gestured for Hannah to follow. 

“Where we going?”

“Back to the scene of the crime.”

It was on the walk down the hall, watching Samanth’s back that Hannah started to feel something she didn’t understand. She knew what it was, that tingling, she just didn’t understand it right then. Samantha stood aside at the open door and waved the girl inside. She stepped to the right toward Smanatha’s side of the room: makeup table, the closet and jewelry boxes. She noticed a wooden hairbrush beside the mirror on the table. Had that always been there? As if in a dream she picked it up, testing its weight. Her stomach flipped. “Be careful what you wish for” echoed in her head. 

“Thank you Hannah”. Samantha took the hairbrush as if it was being offered and sat down on the straight backed chair that she’d turned away from her makeup table. Hannah’s breathing quickened-and it wasn’t just fear. “Take your shorts off.”

“Off? I thought I would just go over your lap like this.

“Not likely. I don’t spank jeans.” 

“Can’t I just take them down?”

“No, I let Abby do that once and she tripped herself walking around with her pants around her ankles. So off.” It was a command, not a suggestion. Hannah was seemingly frozen in place. “You are not going to go shy on me, are you? Now? After everything I’ve already seen?”

Hannah worked on her button with shaking fingers. Samantha reached out and caught a belt loop and pulled her in. ”I think you need a hand”

Not knowing exactly what to do with them, Hannah held her hands clutched in front of her chest as Samantha opened, then pushed her shorts down. She patted the girl’s thigh. “Step out, honey.” Hannah reacted to the soft touch and soothing voice, taking the  offered hand for balance. She let herself be led to Samananths’s right side and then, with a guiding hand lay over the woman’s lap. Samantha adjusted her slightly so her toes were just touching the floor and her bottom bent over the woman’s strong thigh. She hissed when she felt her panties being pulled down and made a small “tsk” when they stuck between her legs. She had gotten surprisingly damp down there, something Samantha couldn’t help but notice in the crotch of the light blue panties. 

The girl made another unidentifiable sound as Samantha rested her hand on the back of her thigh, just below her bottom. “I don’t really want to hurt you Hannah, any more than I wanted to hurt my own daughter when she was in this position. But I do want to punish you for taking advantage of me and to let you know that it’s not OK. And to do that I am going to really hurt your butt. There’s no way around that.”

Hannah was horrified to be feeling it again. The same way she felt when she was trying to position in front of the pool jet. Samantha lectured, and for emphasis, squeezed her bottom, patted her leg or poked a cheek. Every touch created a flutter inside Hannah. The first smack came as an open handed swat delivered firmly. Hannah grunted softly feeling the sting of it but also the inexplicable buzz that hummed between her legs. As the hand spanking continued, Hannah’s thoughts of escape-of sliding off Samantha’s lap and running for the door-dissipated, replaced by a confusing mix of discomfort, humiliation, and that tingle. Also for the first time this evening she felt strangely close to Smantha. Samantha was doing to her what she had done to her own daughter. She had to care for her didn’t she? Or she would have just tossed her out. Then, as suddenly as the spanking began it stopped and Hannah relaxed realizing she had been subtly lifting her bottom to meet Samantha’s punishing hand.. 

Hannah lifted her head when she felt the cool wood of the hairbrush patting her warm bottom. “I don’t think you’ll enjoy this part as much as the last”, Samantha said. God, thought Hannah she knew what I was feeling? There was no more time to contemplate as the woman tightened her grip around her young charge’s waist and let fly with a solid swat that landed equally on both cheeks. The blow elicited a loud yelp that could have been an echo so perfectly did it answer the swat. Then again…and again-every swat a double sound “THWACK! YOW!” Hannah yelped and wriggled and was beginning to kick when Samantha pressed the hard wood of the brush firmly against her already scarlet bottom. 

“Settle”, she ordered. “This won’t go on much longer if you behave. Understand?”

Hannah meant to just say “Yes” but that single word unleashed a torrent of sobs. “I’ll try…it just hurts…so bad.” 

“I know it does. But we’re almost done.”

“I’ll try”, she sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

“The last ones are the hardest..” 

Hannah moaned at the words wondering how they could be harder. Then she found out. Samantha delivered five more swats; two on each cheek and one, the final and hardest at the exact center of the bottom of her bum  which echoed through the girl’s void and brought a fresh wail of pain and distress. 

“Shhh, shhhh..”said Samantha gently. “You’re done…” 

“Thank God!” Hannah exclaimed. Gently crying, she didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry to move. Samantha kept her hand chastly on the girl’s leg. ”You did so well,” she told her. 

“I tried…” she answered to the floor. “Better than Abby?” she asked looking back over her shoulder.

“Abby was a tough nut-a real hard ass. Took everything in silence. Wouldn’t give me the satisfaction of knowing I was hurting her. That was her thing. I knew I was getting through, though.”

“You got through to me, for sure.” Hannah sniffled. 

“There was no doubt about that…It’s a good thing we don’t have any close neighbors.”

“I’m sorry for being a baby. I didn’t know what to expect. I’ll be better next time.”

“Next time?” Samantha scoffed. “Here-get up.” Samantha gave her a hand and Hannah pushed herself off the woman’s lap, where she sood unashamedly rubbing her burning bottom. Samantha picked a few face pads from her table and wiped the tears from Hannah’s cheeks, then a tissue to wipe her nose. She was clear eyed and done crying.

Samantha leaned over and picked up the girl’s underwear which she held open as for a child. With a hand on the woman’s shoulder for support Hannah stepped one leg in, then the other, then straightened while Samantha pulled them up and gave her the first real smile of the evening. 

“You did well. And you know what? It’s over…”

“There’s “us” again?”

“Yes”

Hannah stepped close and sat on Samantha’s lap clenching her butt cheeks against the sweet soreness she felt there and threw her arms around the woman’s neck. Samantha returned the embrace and, as good as that felt, Hannah wished she could take a dip in the pool…to find her special spot in front of the water jet. She couldn’t exactly ask to go for a swim. Could she?

Insomnia #43

The double call of the owls in the hardwoods
Had become threads in a dream that made no sense.

As a boy he had confused the deep throb of the towboat diesels pushing coal upriver,
A sound that could only be heard in the dead of night, with his own heartbeat.

When the tow went round the upriver bend and faded, 
He awoke with a start fearing that without the deep vibration he would die. 

The soft coo of the mourning doves finally woke him. 

The mossy boulders where he coiled had held the sun’s warmth well into the night 
Rattlesnakes and copperheads also liked the warm fissures
But he never minded sharing..he’d had worse in his bed.

The buttery glow of the pallid morning sun
Did little to dilute the haze shrouding the ridge.
 
He had not planned on sleeping up there
But the long day-spooked by the moon-had abruptly fled
Leaving him unsure of the path.

It was hard to imagine, so many years later
That he had touched him just the once. 
Had he meant, just the once, in that one night,
Or more than one time within that night. 
Or just one time every night of many?
His explanations were never made clear. 

Even a child knew he was full of shit. 

The overlook revealed buzzards below;
Pepper specks riding the updrafts from the valley floor.

She knew the whole time
Which was probably why she had never touched him
Which would have been his clear preference. 

But all is forgiven
Nothing forgotten

Or is it the other way around?
It would make all the difference.

She was open to him  later,
But he never lay a hand on her
Until much later when she pleaded that he wouldn’t.

Now he heard them often
Treading the squeaky floorboards at night
As he shuddered in his bag
Behind a locked door 

That wouldn’t keep them out,
If they wanted to come in. 

But all is forgotten
Nothing forgiven

The Devil Finds Work for Idle Hands

Continued from Friday Night Lights

A month later and Kristin still hadn’t sorted out what to do with her Friday nights. What was that saying about the devil and idle hands? Everyone she knew was at the game where she could not show her face. Her Mom had gone into Pittsburgh for a work thing.  To think she would miss having her around! She was just hanging-moping actually. The football field was on a hill a mile out of town and when the air was right you could hear parts of the game from everywhere. And could see the bright glow from the  field on the horizon. And, critically, she was out of pot. Which she really needed right now.  Randy or Sheryll would both be holding but they were at the game. 

She had in mind a place to try.  Her ex-best friend Lynette Talbot usually had pot in their garage. They used to get high out there when they were friends. They had broken up over the summer. It was the usual: one boy, two girls thing; laid over that “other stuff” that Kristin didn’t want to think about right now. They’d each moved on to different crowds since then, and Kristin would have been happy to put whatever it was behind them-God knows she could use a friend or two now-but Lynette was beyond bitchy and seemed to enjoy keeping Kristin as an enemy. Being here in this garage made her a little sad and nostalgic for the times they had together. She had her new pack of tough girls though and was completely lost to her. . 

The two car garage was across the backyard from Lynette’s house. Kristin had been such a fixture at the Talbot house that she would have known her way around blindfolded. There were no trees or shrubs in the yard so the garage’s man-door faced the house in plain sight so that anyone in the kitchen would see her. Did her parents even know she and Lynette were on the outs? If she got caught skulking around could she just bluff her way through with a story about looking for Lynette? Maybe…but she was pretty sure everyone was at the game. The house was dark with the lone porch light glowing wanly. 

Still, she was as sneaky as she could be, playing it like a caper movie. She even flipped up the collar of her jean jacket. The garage was locked, of course. It was always locked but she knew where the key was hidden. She picked up the half brick beside the walkway and snatched the key from the dirt as she had often done. After wiping it on her jeans she slipped it into the knob and paused. She heard the pounding of the drums, then the marching band from the stadium. It must be halftime. She shook her head rapidly to avoid thinking about the routine that she wasn’t doing in front of a stadium full of people with all eyes on her. She would cry if she thought about it.

She went inside and closed the door gently behind her. The light switch was just to her right, but why chance it? There was enough street light filtering through the glass block windows to see by. On shelves above where the front of the car would be were oil cans behind which would typically be a small baggie with a couple of joints or some loose buds. That’s all she needed to get her through the night.  On tiptoes she felt around. There was something there…but… her heart almost stopped when she found the bag. It was not the small, fit in your fist baggie she had expected. When she pulled it from the shelf she needed both hands to cradle the gallon sized ziplock bag filled to bursting with what looked to be deep green buds. She was far from an expert but Kristin knew she was holding something special and probably valuable. This couldn’t be just Lynette’s.  Her first thought was to replace it and sneak out the way she came in. She was suddenly nervous and in over her head. 

Kristen was so focused and intent on what she was doing that she didn’t hear them until the overhead fluorescent flashed on. And by then most of them were inside.

“Kristin!” yelled Lynette, hand on the light switch and obviously startled  “What the fuck?”

Lynette’s pack this evening included Cassie Lawton, senior softball star who led the district in home runs for the last two years. Which meant little in the context of the garage that night, but what did matter was that she was as tall as Kristin and outweighed her by thirty pounds of muscle. Her arms were as thick as Kristin’s thighs.

“Get her, Cassie” growled Lynette. The big girl needed no direction, she had already circled to her left and grabbed Kristin by the arm in a  grip that virtually paralyzed the slim brunette. Kathy Lugar, another, but less fearsome,  softball player circled to the other side and grabbed Kristin by the other arm at the wrist, causing the bag to fall to the floor. It bounced softly, unharmed.

“Watch that for chissakes!” Lynette ordered. She was a tall, lanky girl with hair the color and seeming consistency of straw bunched in a rough ponytail. 

Kathy bent and picked it up, hefted it. “It’s OK.”

“Better be.”

“You’re ripping us off? Lynette asked loudly, surprised.

Kristin went from startled and nervous to frightened pretty quickly. She hadn’t been in a fight since grade school and she was poorly equipped to be in one now. The six girls who followed Lynette into the garage weren’t all softball players but they were all tough girls who ran in a completely different circle. This wouldn’t be a fight, it would be a slaughter. She recognized Glenda Thomas who actually worked in her dad’s gas station nights and weekends. Kristen didn’t think she was better than any of these girls, but she was different. At least she had been once. She had no idea who she was now.  Her stomach gurgled as she tried to imagine what it would feel like to get punched in the face. She needn’t have worried. Lynette stepped close, balled her fist and punched her hard in the stomach.

Kristin gasped a loud “OOF!” and would have bent double but for the girls holding her right and left. She squeezed her eyes tightly and tried to pick up her knees to relieve the pain in her middle. One of the girls holding her yanked her hair hard, lifting her face. Lynette punched her again and she gagged. When she regained her breath and opened her eyes she saw a familiar and maybe friendly face walk through the door.. It was Ben Bodine who everyone called Benji. A cutesy name for a pretty badass all-district wrestler. He wasn’t a towering beast like Frank Orsatti, their heavyweight, but one of the middle weights-around one hundred fifty tightly muscled pounds. 

She and Benji had shared freshman homeroom and a couple of classes. There was a time when she had helped him in Chem Lab and had gone to a couple of wrestling matches. He kept to himself and despite her gentle flirts had never taken the bait. He kept his hair super short and except for the bent nose, had soft features.  What was he doing with these animals? Their eyes caught and she saw something; disappointment, disgust, disdain, one of the dis’s. She wanted to look away but dared not, hoping to message a distress signal. Would he care? Was he one of them?

Lynette motioned as if to punch her again and Kristin sucked up her legs trying to shrink. “Please Lynette. No more.”

“No more? I’m just getting started.” Eyes flashing, Lynette stepped nose to nose with her captive and yanked her hair while staring into her eyes. .“You’ll wish I kept punching you”, she said menacingly before striding  off to a corner of the room where she rummaged through a pile of what looked like debris and wood scraps against the near wall. Finding what she was after, she straightened and turned, holding a stout little board about two feet long and as wide as the palm of her hand. The way she brandished it moving toward Kristen left no doubt about her intentions. 

“Turn her around”, she ordered. Kristin was alarmed at how easily the two girls handled her. 

“What are you doing?” she asked unnecessarily over her shoulder, her hair cascading over her eyes. 

“I’m going to beat your ass for ripping us off.”

“NO! Whatever I took I was going to replace once I hooked up.”

“You’re not going to replace this stuff”.Cassie growled in her ear..  Nobody has it. I had to go all the way to Morgantown for it..Too much time and money went into this to allow some baton princess to walk off with it. 

Oh God! thought Kristin. They’re all in on it. They’re going to kill me. “I wasn’t! I swear, I just wanted to get a little. I remember how Lynette kept a stash here. I just wanted to catch a little buzz. I didn’t know it belonged to all of you or I never would have…” She desperately pulled her arms and rolled her shoulders trying to loosen their grip, but it was useless. 

“Stealing from me is fine, huh? Just not from all of us”

Lynette pointed the paddle at her menacingly. “This is breaking and entering…”

“I didn’t break in. EVERYBODY knows where your key is Lynette. 

“Enough of your shit. Bend her over the workbench.”

Again, Kristin could offer only token resistance as, feet barely touching the floor, she was moved to the workbench. The edge dug into her hips as they pushed her over and flattened her onto it. She heard someone say “Get the phone out of her pocket. Her jeans were tight so whoever was digging around had to struggle to pull it out. Then Cassie said, “We should take her pants down.” 

Kristin panicked and tried to kick backward. Someone dropped to the floor and grabbed her legs. With Cassie draped across her back and Kathy holding her wrists she was effectively immobilized. She had a vision of being mauled by dogs as what seemed like fifty hands clawed at her. Someone reached around her waist and yanked at her belt, unbuckling it. There was absolutely nothing she could do to stop them from pulling her pants off. From stripping her naked if they wanted. 

“NO! PLEASE LYNETTE, DON’T DO THIS”. Her voice was ragged and breathless. 

“I’m over here sweetie”, said Lynette slipping into Kristin’s sightline and waving the paddle. “It’s not me…I’m just watching the show.”

She screamed in frustration. Her zipper was down and she felt her waist loosen. Her  jacket and T-shirt had been pushed up so her lower back was exposed. Feeling the air on her  flesh-even her back-heightened the panic as she struggled. Whoever was on the floor reached up and began tugging at the beltline on one side while someone else was pulling on the other side.She would be bare ass in seconds. 

“O PLEASE DON’T!….”, she was crying now, something she had hoped to avoid. 

“Stop!” The only male voice in the garage cut through the rabble and all hands pawing at Kristin’s clothes froze in place. Kristin opened her eyes but couldn’t lift her head as there was a strong forearm across it pinning it to the bench. 

“Stop what Benji?” Lynette fairly snarled.”I AM going to beat her ass. 

“Leave her jeans up”, he said evenly. He hadn’t liked Lynette punching her while she was being held. He thinks he might have stopped it if he was inside when it happened. Whatever, there wouldn’t have been a third punch. 

Nobody spoke for a moment and Kristin could feel the tension in the room and hear feet shuffling.

Lynette said, “Tell me you don’t want to see this little thief’s bare ass.”

“Why don’t you describe it for us? I’m sure you have fond memories.” 

There were a smattering of “ooohs” and a giggle or two. Kathy Lugar scoffed. 

“You forget who’s holding the paddle.” Lynette said, trying to maintain control. 

“That can change in a fucking instant.” Again, his voice was devoid of emotion which chilled the garage further. Kristin held her breath.

“I don’t know what your game is Benji. You think she’s going to thank you for this?. Give you a friendly blow job or a little fuckey-fuck” She jabbed the paddle roughly up between Kristin’s legs. “This princess is too stuck up for you. And us. We’re ok to steal from….” 

“Her jeans stay up,” he said in a tone that ended the conversation. 

“Alright. Fine! I’ll just hit her harder. Pull her jeans up tight”. Kathy and Cassie pulled her jeans up higher than they’d been and held them there, the seam splitting her uncomfortably. Someone patted her cheek firmly “There you go,” Her jeans clung  to her butt like denim paint. 

Kristin didn’t have time to be relieved about not being stripped. .She was too conscious of her bottom being set up like a target. After an anxious moment,  the first swat landed with a ferocity that blew all breath out of her open mouth. She was too stunned to make a sound. The next was equally solid. She yelped a loud “OWWW” following the third. She had in the back of her mind thought that her mother’s hairbrush might have prepared her for this, but she was sorely mistaken. That had been a spanking from someone who loved her.. Sound, but still a spanking. This was a beating by someone who only wanted to hurt her, and struggle as she might, she couldn’t avoid or stop it. Cassie felt her rocking back and forth, struggling to lift herself off the bench. “Don’t fight”, she whispered into her ear. “Don’t tense-don’t clench your ass it will be worse.”

Kristin heard the words from far away. She howled pitifully. She tasted blood and knew she had bitten her lip but really couldn’t feel it. She could barely breathe and feared she might pass out. The pain had settled to an overall numbing burn, accented by the relentless impact of the board, swat after swat. She tried to gag hoping to puke which she saw as her only defense right now. Maybe if she could pee herself, they’d stop but she had no conscious control of anything. 

Then suddenly, it stopped amid a shuffle of feet and a loud “Hey” from Lynette. What Kristin couldn’t  see was Benji stepping up and grabbing the paddle on the backswing. “Enough”, he said, wrenching it from her hand. “Owww”, she whined, grabbing her wrist.

“Enough. You made your point.” Reacting to the change in the room, Cassie, careful not to push on her, rose, giving Kristin the first full breath she’d had since she was pinned. Kathy Lugar released her wrists then strangely patted her head and slipped a lock of hair, damp with tears and sweat off Kristin’s face and behind her ear. “Sorry”, she said, a tiny puff in her ear. “That was efff’d up,”

She Lay where she was, crying softly as the drama played out behind her out of sight. 

Lynette was clearly enraged but not unhinged enough to make the mistake of getting up in Benji’s face. His glare put her back on her heels. His eyes never left hers as he reached out with his empty left hand and said, “Gimme”.

Shayla Brooks, a solid little girl in a leather jacket and biker boots handed him the pillow sized bag of dope. His eyes slowly surveyed the room, 

“We’re all  friends here, ” he said in a flat tone that indicated the opposite might be true. It was lost on no one that he was still holding the paddle and pointing it generally at everyone as he spoke, lingering on the softball players who had held Kristen down. Cassie, never one to back down, shrunk a little as her cohort Kathy shuffled a half step behind her. 

“We’re supposed to split that up!” Lynette complained, trying to keep the shrillness out of her voice. Benji looked at her as if trying to place a stranger who might have looked familiar. “I recall”, he said slowly. “Thank you. This pot belongs to all of us, but it was my cash that fronted it. I might be starting to doubt somebody’s judgment…or temperament to manage this deal.”

He pointed the board directly at Cassie and Kathy. “You remember what we talked about, yes?”

“I do”, said Cassie. 

“You’ll take care of it, right?”

“Yep.”

He tossed his head, indicating Lynette. Go with her, she has my scale. Do what we discussed.”

“You got it, Benji”, the big girl nodded. 

He was about to toss her the baggie but pulled back. “I’ma take a little off the top..if nobody minds.” he opened the baggie and stuck his nose in. “Ahhh, this is the shit.” He sighed, performing a little. “ I need a bag.”

Marie Quintana  petite, brown and beautiful green lipstick matching her eyes,stepped from the shadows and pulled a baggie holding a single joint, out of her back pocket. She tucked behind her ear where it disappeared behind a fall of tight black curls. She handed Benji the baggie. He smiled his sweetest thank you and reached into the big bag, pulled a small healthy pinch out, stuck it into the smaller bag.

“You realize you’re already getting your cut”, Lynette said, not being able to help herself. 

“Yep. This isn’t for me” Slipping the paddle, which all the girls at least glanced at, under his arm, he wrapped the bag tight, licked the top and folded it over. He closed the big pot pillow and tossed it to Cassie. “See you at my house sometime tomorrow.” She nodded. 

Lynette, frustrated and steaming, left first banging through the door followed by her doubting minions heads down except to nod at Benji. The softballers left last with a nod then a look toward Kristen who was standing uncomfortably in front of the workbench her back still to them. “Kris”, said Cassie, which some people called Kristin. The beaten girl raised a hand in acknowledgement of the gesture and the last two girls left. 

“All gone”, said Benji and she turned stiffly, taking tiny shuffling steps. Her face was a mottled ruin of tears, snot and blood below her lips. Benji handed her a bandana from his back pocket. “It’s clean”, he said. She wiped, dabbed and blew and went to hand it back.

“Keep it”, he said. 

“Thank you…I guess.” she said. 

“No worries.”

“No, really. If they would have gotten my pants off….” She shuddered. 

“Yah, that was a tough one. 

“Why?”

“Lynette was right. I REALLY wanted to see your bare ass.”

Kristin pulled a face that was equal parts grimace and grin. “You missed your chance. I’m sure you don’t want to see it now.”

“Now I have to see it. See what kind of damage she did back there.”

“There’s something for sure…burning and squishy” When she tied to straighten to her right, she winced and caught herself back on the workbench.

“Why did you let them do that to me?” she asked on the verge of crying again. 

“Took me a few minutes to get the lay of the land. My thought, ok? Walking in on this? Was some kind of lover’s spat.”

“We’re not…! she protested.

“….I know you guys are a thing-at least you WERE-I’m not up on the latest jib-jab. But you broke in. You were taking her shit.  You deserved something, you know? Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time…So she wanted to swat your ass, fine. But she was taking it way too far. But it only happened because you came here to steal from her. 

“I wasn’t…Then she caught herself and started sobbing raggedly. “My life is so fucked up right now Benji. I don’t know what I’m going to do. 

As smoothly as he would have on the mat,  he took a quick  slide step and was immediately in front of her. He underhooked her arms and gave her a firm hug-across the back and shoulder blades-all warmy friendly and not lusty pervy. “Your life is what you want it to be. Past is not prologue. You will write your own story starting tomorrow.” he said into her ear.

She sniffed. “I got snot on your shoulder.”

“Had worse.”

“Are all wrestlers philosophers?”

“Hell’s  yeah-we try to keep it a secret though”. When she looked into his face, beside the naughty glint in his eye she saw real concern. And that was the look she responded to.  

“Now”, he said stepping out of the hug, “lets have a look at your butt.” 

To Be Continued…

Friday Night Lights

Kristin lingered across the hall pretending to read her phone waiting for the bathroom to clear. She was using the girl’s down by the shops which was usually empty. It was Friday so she was in avoidance mode. The standard harsh light inside was overwhelmed by the morning sun flooding through the  frosted windows. The girl in the mirror looked positively garish. The chestnut brown hair was still there-the red highlights especially stunning but pointless now. She looked closely into the brown eyes above the smattering of freckles. Not too bloodshot. Drops would help. She pulled them from her bag and threw her head back, not being able to resist the head shake that was a part of the dance routine that the rest of the majorettes would be doing at the game tonight. She should be out in front-just left of center-high stepping as the stadium lights glinted off the red in her hair, the color chosen to match the tunic she would never wear again. 

Among certain circles, Kristin Kelly being kicked out of the majorettes was THE news of the football season. A senior, five-eight, and leggy, she had been a majorette for four years. She would have been captain, too. She wasn’t a big time pothead. Just a little now and then to “even things out”. Sure it sounded stupid, but that’s what she’d said. Then to have been caught with a joint in school and everything changed.

“What were you thinking?” Her mother had shouted. Donna Kelly had been a majorette herself in high school and went to football games only for the halftime show. Not yet forty, in the right light, she could be mistaken for Kristin’s older sister. She kept herself in trim with a fanatical devotion to tennis and a three hundred dollar monthly check to a personal trainer.. 

When Kristin had come home and told her mother what had happened Donna caught herself in mid swing. Kristin flinched, shocked that her mother had almost slapped her and frightened that her hands seemed to be shaking. “To your room NOW!” Kristin scampered up the stairs two at a time. She knew what her Mom was capable of but she’d only been threatened with spankings for the last two years. Threats had been enough to keep her on the straight and narrow. Her last one had been very unpleasant. 

Kristin had no sooner flopped crying onto her bed than she heard her mother stomping upstairs then into her bedroom for a hot second, then stomping down the hall and bursting into Kristin’s room. A bad sign; her mother was a knocker-protective of her daughter’s privacy. Not today. She had one hand on the doorknob and in the other was her large hairbrush which as far as Kristin knew only had one function. 

“No, Mom…Please!”

“Turn over!”

Seeing the fire in her mother’s eyes she hesitated only a moment before rolling onto her belly. There was a long pause.

“Are you going to do it or should I?”

“Mom…” It was essentially the same question  she had asked two years before. “You or I?” , she repeated. Then, as a recalcitrant fifteen year old, she had stubbornly held her tongue having Donna yank down her pajama bottoms-scratching her leg with a nail in the process- and pull her over her lap so the hairbrush could do it’s work. 

This time, careful not to say or do anything that would further inflame her mother, Kristin reached under and unbuttoned her khakis. Then, lifting, pushed them and her underwear down almost to her knees. She pulled her pillow tight to her face. At least she wasn’t making her lay over her lap which would have been humiliating.  Kristin recalled thinking once that if her mother did follow through and actually spank her as a fully grown seventeen year old, it would be more embarrassing than painful. She was wrong.

The first swat Donna landed was loud and solid-ringing up her arm to the shoulder. Kristin cried out loudly and of course her mother was torn between, “Jesus! That HAD to hurt” and “GOOD! That really hurt!” 

After a dozen solid smacks, Donna took note of the bright red backside and heaving shoulders and her eyes stung unexpectedly. She called the punishment over and sat gently on the bed. The pillow under Kristin’s face was wet with tears of frustration, shame and hurt. 

“I’m sorry, Mommy” She  sobbed into the pillow. 

“I am too honey.” said Donna, sitting beside her daughter in a strangely tender moment.  “I’m sorry about this” she gingerly patted Kristin’s hot bottom.  I was just so mad and disappointed for you as well as in you. I thought I had to do something.”

“It’s alright Mom. I deserved it.”

“Maybe if I’d have done it before…instead of just threatening”

“Not your fault…”

“We’ll just have to find something else to do on Friday nights.”

“Not this, OK?” Kristen said with a smirk into the pillow. 

“Well, that will be up to you, young lady”, she scoffed, happy to lighten the mood. She squeezed her daughter’s ankle and got up. “This was hard work. I’m going down stairs to have a drink. Feel free to join me when you pull yourself together.”

Continued…The Devil Finds Work for Idle Hands