Molly In The Morning….

Continued from…Molly At The Club

Molly heard the door from where she lay fully clothed under an afghan on the couch. Corrine-cloaked only in the night’s darkness-was stepping out of the bedroom and closing the door carefully and silently as possible behind her. Certainly Corrine had to know that she was here, though Molly herself wasn’t sure where she was. The woman’s skin-where it wasn’t covered in ink-shone like polished ivory in the ambient glow of the city beyond the wall of windows. Molly was trying to decipher a tattoo that began at the woman’s hip and bloomed into her rib cage when Corrine stopped and looked over.

“You awake honey?” she asked.

“I heard the door.”

“I’m sorry”, Corrine said raising her hands to take in her body. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Making no effort of cover up, Corrine asked how she was feeling.

“Like I should still be asleep.”

Corrine put her hand up as if to say ‘Wait there’, a completely superfluous motion since Molly wasn’t moving. She watched the woman cross to the kitchen and open the fridge, her nakedness brightly outlined by the harsh light from within. The tattoo on her side was a brightly colored leopard, uncoiling from her hip and reaching high to seemingly devour her breast from below. She pulled out a plastic bottle filled with a beige liquid that swirled as she shook it. Then, with the fridge still open she rose on her tiptoes to reach into the cupboard. In silhouette, her lean and tight buttocks swelled with the movement as she picked a small pill bottle out of the cupboard.

She padded quietly over to where Molly lay on her side propped by an elbow. “Here, take this”, she said handing her the bottle.  Then Corrine squatted-‘SQUATTED!’ as Molly would recall it later in her head-in front of her keeping her legs together showing nothing but a perfectly manicured square of dark hair centered above a set of quads that looked hard enough to bounce a quarter off of. Above the flat stomach two perfectly uniform breasts hung just enough to prove they were the genuine articles.

She shook out two pills and handed them to Molly. “Take these.” Without a question Molly did-drinking from the shaker bottle. It was sweet, thick and cold. Tenderly, Corrine pushed some of the hair back from Molly’s forehead. Up close in the dim light Molly noticed that her nose had a slight bump in it, was maybe a little long and pointed, an imperfection that almost made her more alluring. Her scent was spicy-a slight tinge of sweat married to cinnamon and leather-and her hand, where it grazed her forehead was dry and warm just like at the bar.

“John wouldn’t let me undress you….” She said softly with a small smile.

“He’s no fun…”

Corrine’s smile widened. “You are bad…”

Molly reached out and lay her hand on the outside of the tightly stacked thigh in front of her. Like the woman’s hand, it was warm and firm. She rubbed it softly and slid her hand back toward the hip feeling a small burn begin in her crotch.

Corrine rose in front of her and Molly’s hand traced the leg’s unwinding. “There’s time for that sweetie.” said Corrine. “Right now you need sleep.” She bent and kissed her on the forehead-a quick soft peck that nevertheless stoked Molly’s fire. Then she turned and padded back to the bedroom treating Molly to the heavenly vision of her glowing undulating bottom moving away. Molly dropped her head back on the pillow and was instantly asleep and dreaming.

Sunlight bathed the house when she next opened her eyes. She saw John sitting at the kitchen counter with a steaming cup of coffee, fingering through his tablet. He was dressed casually befitting a Saturday morning but also somehow apparently ready to do something. She, on the other hand, felt like a sack of laundry ready to do nothing. She sat up.

“Oh, there she is…” he said pleasantly.

“Mmmorning…” she rubbed her eyes with her fists and sat up, dropping her feet to the floor.

“Coffee?”

“Please.”

She watched him pour a small cup out of a press pot at his elbow. He didn’t ask about cream or sugar just brought the steaming cup in to her, its aroma filling the large room.

“I just made it…”

She took it in both hands and sipped the bitter fruitiness which almost immediately delivered a small zing behind her eyes. He sat in a chair across the carpet from her. Obviously this was not the first coffee he had made that morning and had been up for a while.

“Sleep well?” he asked?

“This couch is more comfortable than my bed…”

He smiled. “Good.”

He let her know that he had to go look at some properties. “I can take you back to your car now….well, in fifteen minutes or as soon as you’re ready…or you can hang here until Corrine wakes up and she can take you.”

“Oh”, she said as innocently as possible, “Is she still here?”

He nodded toward the bedroom where she knew Corrine was. “She’ll rouse in a little bit.”

“I’m not ready just yet. I’ll wait….if that’s OK…”

He smiled again. “Completely fine. I’m sure she would want to see you this morning anyway.” He stood and went back to grab his tablet pointing out amenities that she might need. The house appeared to be a large single room but there were glass block barriers set up to conceal doors and hallways. “The computer is over there-password is on the card on the board; universal phone charger on the desk-bathroom there-TV remote” he set it on the couch beside her. “….. I won’t be back for a while-probably most of the day.”

She was too busy digesting his instructions to realize till later that he was deeding the house over for the day. He bent over and kissed her lightly on the cheek cupping the other with his hand. It was a sweet, almost brotherly gesture. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon. Relax a bit and have a good day…”

“Thanks for everything”, she said. “I had a great time…”

“Por Nada”, he said and disappeared behind a block wall and she heard him on the steps. She remembered the steps then-remembered walking up them last night. Remember leaning hard on the railing and laughing.

The house rumbled with the opening of the garage door and from her vantage point at the windows she could see John’s car turn the corner and disappear down Jane Street. She sipped on her coffee watching the city awaken slowly to its weekend routines. The house was built on a slope so she could look down from where she was, but no one except with a telescope from across the river could look in.

She heard the bedroom door creak open. Corrine stepped out wearing loose-fitting black gym shorts and a well-worn long sleeve polyester Pittsburgh Marathon jersey. Her hair was combed out and lustrous even though her eyes were still puffy with sleep. She was bed-warm and heat seemed to radiate off her as she stood close and took the cup from Molly’s hands.

“John left?”

“Yeah-just….”

“I think the garage door woke me….” She sipped and followed Molly’s gaze toward the river.

“Sorry about the peep show last night. I thought you were dead to the world.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Uh-huh?” said Corrine. “What’s with uh-huh?”

“Uh-huh in that I don’t think I entirely believe you.”

Molly glanced sideways and saw the small smile. Not sheepish, exactly, but definitely ‘busted’. A slim curtain of dark hair slid across her cheek as she drooped her head hiding the pink blush that had bloomed there. For the first time since Molly saw her behind the bar Corrine-for a quick moment- didn’t seem invulnerable. After a moment Corrine lifted her eyes and pushed the hair back behind her ear.

“Have you seen the master bath?” she asked.

“I don’t think so….I think I remember…” Molly looked toward a small door off the study area.

“No, that’s the powder room…the master has an amazing stone shower that takes up a whole corner and a hot tub, all with this view…”

“That I would remember.”

“Yeah-it’s something.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well”, said Corrine setting the cup on a nearby stone table, “I was thinking we should go in there and have a soak. Maybe a good long shower…get all squeaky clean…” She draped her arms around the smaller woman’s shoulders. “Then I’ll dry you off…top to bottom…then head to toe…” Molly let her smile answer Corrine’s. She opened her mouth slightly to accept the gentle kiss. “Then maybe I’ll put you over my knee, spank your bare bum for a while…” Molly pursed her lips in a look of feigned concern…”then take you into the bedroom and fuck your brains out.”

She kissed her again. Molly opened her mouth wider and welcomed the touch of tongue against her teeth. “Then,” whispered Corrine breathily as she rubbed her cheek against Molly’s “We’ll lounge around and I’ll make you a big breakfast.”

Corrine leaned back to see Molly’s eyes.

“I’m not much of a breakfast girl”, she said.

Corrine turned her and, arm across her shoulders, led her off toward the master bath.

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Molly At The Club

John squeezed Molly’s forearm with a “be right back” look and left her at the bar. She saw that he had made eye contact with the bartender so she knew she would not be alone long. She followed his glance and saw the woman behind the bar flowing toward her. Her eyes cut left and right on the way seeing which of her charges might be ready for another, who was low and who might want….anything.

Compared to herself-and that’s the way Molly measured all women-the bartender was long and lean as a leopard. Tight jeans hugged her hips below a flash of flat midriff which was covered above the navel by a white silky tank top layered under a weathered denim vest.

Tattoos sleeved her bare left arm, circling and curling from the wrist to the shoulder and across her shoulder blade. Looked like leaves from down the bar but as she got closer Molly could make out that they were vines and entwined with the vines a bright multi-colored snake circled her bicep climbing seemingly toward her head. Her right arm-closest to Molly-was clear below the elbow but above, there was another snake. This one glistening black and wrapped.

“I’m Corrine”, she smiled reaching a fist across the bar.

“Molly”, she answered with a quick fist bump.

Now in front of her, Molly noticed another tattoo. This was a necklace-looked like a thin leather strip-circling around her neck and crawling across her collarbones just low enough so any shirt would cover it. Centered on the brown strip, hanging in the center of her breast plate was a tiny paddle-tiny but obvious for what it was. Deep blue outlines-highlighted a burnished gold wooden color-with three holes dotted in the center.

Molly stared for a moment then realized it could look like she was ogling the woman’s breasts so she lifted her gaze northward to Corrine’s laughing green eyes.

“Welcome to The Club, Molly. What can I get you?”

To drink? Molly had given it no thought…To avoid looking like a stammering, staring dunce she turned the question back “What do you like?”

“Me?” she tilted her head slightly as if thinking, “I’m a whisky girl. Bourbon specifically.”

“OK-make me something. Surprise me.”

Corrine’s slight head tilt became a smiling wink. “I’m sure I can do that.”

Molly watched the woman work-watched her hands move quickly and surely. Ice in the martini glass to cool it, ice in the tall mixing glass, then a thick draught of bourbon followed by a liquor she didn’t recognized. She, of course, flipped a mixing spoon into her hand and stirred the drink quickly but carefully all the while maintaining a lively patter with the folks to Molly’s left and right.  Molly realized she was being introduced around…”John’s friend”….”our newest friend…” and she nodded smiled and shook the hands offered. She caught or remembered no names.

Corrine’s smile was quick, wide and open-then small and pursed-then wide again, expressing all she needed to express wordlessly. Her raven hair flowed around her shoulders as she whipped her head around following all the conversations in her circle.

She tossed the ice out of the cooled martini glass and strained the drink into it. She presented it in front of Molly and with a slight flourish swished a large dark cherry into the glass.

“Black Manhattan”, she said.

The drink was dark befitting its name and seemed to pulse behind the droplets that ran down the outside of the glass. Molly imagined the cherry as the heart beating life into this new being that had been created for her. And because its creator was standing before her in anticipation, Molly raised the glass to her lips and allowed the cool darkness to flow into her mouth. The heat filled her throat and rolled through her chest while the sweetness lingered on her tongue.

“Wow”, Molly said genuinely surprised. “That’s wonderful!”

“Thought you’d like it.”

Molly hadn’t been sure. She was a gin and tonic, white wine sort. To say this dark liquor was a departure was an understatement but well in keeping with the rest of her day.

Corrine was still standing in front of her with her hands corralling the drink. She seemed to be leaning in a little…searching.

“Oh, I’m sorry…” Molly allowed herself to be a tad flustered reaching for her purse.

“No-don’t worry about it.” He hand covered Molly’s with a warm pat. It was-contrary to what you’d expect given what she was doing behind the bar-warm and dry. And comfortably strong. “John’s orders. We are all at your service tonight.” She looked around the bar. “I’ll be back to check on you. Enjoy.”

Molly watched her walk away and without meaning to-at least at first-let her eyes be drawn to the contours of her perfectly sculpted ass rippling under jeans that could have been painted on. Then she caught herself and took a deep sip of her drink.

A small unassuming guy with a shaved head and earing slid into the spot to her left and began to speak to her. The music was starting to pump and hearing what he was saying was difficult. She leaned toward him smiling and realized that he was asking her to dance. Something about he knew the DJ and could get him to play whatever she wanted. She kept her smile and shrugged that she wasn’t much of a dancer. He persisted and leaned in noticing that her glass was empty. Before he could offer to buy her one, Connie swooped in with another perfectly made cocktail that she clapped on the bar before her.

“Come on Tommy, give her a break. She’s new here-let her get acclimated.”

He smiled and bowed with his palms up as if in supplication, “Acclimate away” he said and drifted off toward the dance floor.

“He’s harmless”, she said smiling. “Nice actually-works here…” she whirled and went back down the bar.

“Thanks!” yelled Molly to her retreating back trying not to let her eyes slide down to her retreating backside. She smiled and shook her head quickly as if to clear her vision and her thoughts. What was with her tonight? She did not usually feel comfortable among strangers, let alone a whole room of them but here she was. It was a real mix, this bunch-from fashionably torn $200 jeans to khakis and polos to a couple in understated but unmistakable leather.

She felt someone slide in beside her and turned to see John. She smiled widely and punched him in the arm. “Where have you been?” she asked.

“Mingling”, he answered returning the smile.

“Mingling.”

“Had to see a few folks…Corrie been taking care of you?”

“Yeah-she’s great!”

“She’s something alright. What do you have here?” He reached for her glass and sipped.

“Oh, that’s good.”

“What are you dinking?” Molly asked but before he could answer Corrine appeared in front of them with a cocktail that she sat in front of John.

“John’s an Old Fashion guy…at least in his drinks”, she told Molly as a loud aside and moved away again.

“Thank you…” he called after her as Molly stole a glance at her retreating backside. Her glance settled there a beat too long and John busted her with a smile. “Enjoying the view, are we?” Molly blushed hotly as John laughed. “I’ll never tell…”

By 11:00 the dance floor had filled up as had most of the room. Corrine was joined by two other bartenders to help with what had become a constant crush of people. One was the Tommy who had hit on her-he winked and gave her a wave-and a tall blonde woman with a pony tail and splash of freckles.

Waitresses carried trays of drinks to the tables against the wall and to the game room in back-with more tables and a couple of pool tables and dartboards. It was a dizzying crush of people and activity made more so by the fact that Molly was starting to feel the drinks and probably didn’t need the one Tommy had just set in front of her.

She and John talked past midnight with Corrine taking advantage of her help to linger with them a little. With subtle exchanged smiles over the rim of the glass she even sipped a little at Molly’s drink knowing that she was probably a tad over her limit. “I’ll try to catch up with you….”

Corrine’s shift ended at midnight and she was just getting ready to leave the bar to the other two when a crash back by the pool table rose above the general din. And as always happened since high school cafeteria, a round of mock applause from the surrounding patrons let everyone know that someone had dropped a tray of glassware or, heaven forbid, drinks. Molly saw one of the security guys moving back there with a broom and shovel.

Then, just as the cheer in back seemed to be fading, it morphed into a chant-low and scattered at first with one or two voices then rose to a cheer: “Corrie! Corrie! Corrie!” The Corrie in question, leaning against the bar with John and Molly, smiled slyly. “Duty calls!” she said and headed up the bar.

Molly thought she had to go back and help with the clean-up but Corrine stopped at the cash register and reached into the dark shelf below it. Her hand emerged clutching a paddle that looked like the model of the tattoo around her neck. It was around two feet long, burnished light brown-almost golden-with three holes running down the center.

The denizens at the bar cheered when they saw it and joined in the “Corrie” chant. For her part, Corrine held the paddle high like the sword Excalibur just pulled from the stone. The chant for her grew louder as she moved to the back pumping the paddle up in the air like a drum major’s baton. Wide-eyed, Molly grabbed John’s wrist.

He smiled, “Poor waitress…”

“She’s going to paddle her? Right back there? In front of everybody?”

“You want to watch?” John asked.

She was pinned in her seat; frozen there by the block of ice that had seemed to settle deep in her stomach. Did she really want to see what was going to happen back there? Yes, of course she wanted to go see. But she didn’t want John to know that she wanted to see. Was she that drunk? She looked at him in confusion but he read her eyes pretty easily.

“Come on”, he said grabbing her wrist.

The crowd made room for them as they slid there way along the back wall to the game room. The room wasn’t exactly spinning for Molly as she feared it would when she got off the stool, but it was a little off kilter. Whether that was because of the drinks or the crazy buzz she was feeling in her stomach and below, she couldn’t say.

The crowd had cleared a spot back in the corner of the game room beyond the pool tables where the unlucky waitress was standing, her eyes studying the floor. The security guy had already swept up the glass and Corrine was brandishing the paddle as if it was a gavel at an auction.

“How many?” she called out.

“Ten!” came an answer.

“Ten?!” the waitress looked up, stricken. “They were empties!”

Corrine pointed the paddle at the guy who had suggested ten. “I’ll give her ten if you come up here and take ten yourself. Whattaya say?”

He smiled and waved her off amid hoots from his table.

“Nine!” someone called out.  “Eight!” came another.

“Eight-nine…You don’t have many friends back here, do you Meagan?”

Meagan looked around with a slightly exaggerated pout. She was smaller than Corrine-about Molly’s size-but a little thicker. Wider in the hips and across the bottom which might be an advantage here. The crowd kept yelling out numbers-high numbers-and Molly, in her state was having trouble seeing who in the mob was yelling what. Meagan was looking around too, her tight blond curls bobbing left and right as if looking for the winning bidder. Finally, Corrine raised the paddle above her head and the mob quieted.

“I was going to give her four…” there was a grumbling and one “only four?” from the floor. “But you are particularly blood thirsty tonight. You want your pound of Meagan flesh tonight don’t you?”

“We do!”

“So I’ll give her five!”

“FIVE!” the crowd assented. “Five! Five! Five!”

Clearly relishing her role in the drama, Corrine pumped the paddle to the chant of the crowd. They settled quickly when she turned to the waitress. Molly was sucking air in little gasps. The crowd was obviously not new to this sort of show but she didn’t know what to expect from one minute to the next.

“Meagan?”

The girl turned away from the room to face a chair that had been placed against the wall. She bent over the back placing both hands on the seat. Her jeans stretched tightly across her ample bottom. She arched her back, presenting herself further, and waited.

If Molly was expecting some kind of stylized pantomime of a paddling that you might see on stage in a play she was disabused of that notion quickly. Corrine stepped back-measured once with a pat on the girl’s bottom-then swung hard. Molly jumped when the paddle landed with a loud “CRACK!” John, standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders, squeezed gently. The crowd cheered the swat.

At impact Meagan had raised on her toes but settled back just in time to absorb the second swat. “Two” a couple had called out. Again-up on the toes and back down. The third swat cracked right across the center of her backside and she bounced on her heels a bit and broke her knees just a tad. Corrine gave her a moment to gather herself then delivered the fourth to loud cheers.

“Now”, Corrine addressed the mob. “She would be done now. Poor Meagan and her bruised bottom would be free to go…But no. You wanted MORE!” her eyes flashed and her teeth gleamed as she spun slowly taking in the whole room, obviously enjoying herself. “So this…” she settled back into position “this last swat, is not on my conscience. This is for you…..ANIMALS!” She smiled wickedly and stepped into the swing.

The paddle landed with a loud “CRACK!” that was drowned out by the cheers of the crowd. Meagan jumped up reaching back with both hands to clasp her burning backside to general applause. She hopped in a circle with an exaggerated pout pushing her overly red lips. Her eyes glistened and her cheeks were flushed a bright pink. Which made Molly wonder for a quick unbidden second what her other cheeks looked like.

Corrine pointed around the room with the paddle. “Don’t forget to tip your waitresses. They work hard for you….or else.”

John turned Molly around to head back to their seats at the bar keeping her hands on her shoulders. She was grateful for his touch and steadying presence as the room spun slowly left to right. She dragged her hand on the paneled wall as they moved along to steady things a little. “What do you think?” he asked in her ear. How could she explain what she felt? The butterflies in her stomach had turned into eagles, she was sure she was wet between her legs and her knees trembled.

“Wow…” was all she could manage.

When they got back to their seats Corrine had collected her cash drawer and tips. Her night was over. “Give me a few minutes to get this straight and we’ll get out of here.”

We? Molly thought. Molly knew that she was too tipsy to drive and assumed that John or a cab would be taking her home but Corrine was coming with them? Her chest tightened in a good way.  She sat back at her seat and watched the room swell around her until Corrine joined them.

“Come”, she said and they slipped around the back of the bar and out a side door. Molly was happy to be lead through a dim storage room full of boxes and broken chairs and out a security door into a dark alley where John’s car was secreted behind a dumpster. They bundled Molly into the back seat and and jumped up front immediately talking about where to go eat.

“Paddling always gives me an appetite”, she joked.

“You really gave it to her”, Molly piped up from the back. “That had to hurt.”

“Oh, it hurt alright”, she answered, letting it go at that.

“Meagan’s the kind that if she doesn’t get spanked in public every so often she gets a little squirrelly…” John filled in.

“A bit of an exhibitionist”, said Corrine eyeing Molly intently in the rear view mirror. “As we all are, I suppose.”

“Plus”, said John, “That little performance probably netted her an extra hundred bucks in tips which is no small thing for a single mom trying to raise two kids.”

“A hundred bucks?”

“More”, said Corrine, “If I made her take her pants down.”

Molly caught Corrine’s eyes in the mirror and searched for a hint that she was kidding. Their eyes locked as Molly slid down into the plush leather seat. Corrine’s lidded eyes were the last things she remembered as she slipped off to sleep.

The Appointment

The room didn’t look “sterile” by any means. That was what she had called it in preparation for his first visit months ago. She had warned him that it was “a rather sterile looking office”. It was as large as the conference room at work, a desk, more of a work table really, near the rear center-with enough room for a credenza behind it under the window that overlooked the street from three floors up. There were a couple of armchairs and a short couch all situated on a soft mauve carpet that took up most of the room but was offset to the left allowing a gleaming swath of polished hardwood floor exposed against the wall.

If there was anything sterile looking about the place it was this hardwood peninsula. A stout looking armless wooden chair and matching small oak table were situated next to an upright digital scale. Beside the scale was a full length mirror affixed to the wall and an oaken clothes tree-complete with three wooden hangers.

He knew his way around well enough by now but still couldn’t avoid a little flutter in his chest when looking at the spare furnishings on that side of the room. Still, he moved in that direction and watched himself in the mirror as he doffed his sport coat draping it over the highest hanger. Standing sideways to the mirror he slid his hand along his stomach, sucking in a small gut that he noticed more than anyone else. Truth is, he hadn’t lost too much of the body he’d had when he played college baseball a decade earlier, but he’d lost enough. Enough to bother him.

He absently loosened his tie but didn’t feel a need to take it off. Shoes? He glanced toward the door. He’d wait for her before taking off his shoes. She was in the habit recently of making him wait and he didn’t feel like standing around in his socks. He’d definitely have to take them off though.

He looked at the scale the way he might eyeball any adversary. The read-out screen was dark and he knew that it was turned off. There were few real rules of protocol in the office but the single immutable one was that Doc Bethel was the only one who could turn the scale on or off.

He walked over and sat in one of the armchairs. The waiting was part of her program he knew, but oddly it was the one that bothered him the most. He sat back and crossed his legs-right ankle over knee. Then uncrossed. Leaned forward with his elbows on the soft chair arms, then leaned further back again.  Lifting two fingers of his right hand to his mouth, he perfectly pantomimed taking a deep drag on a cigarette. He filled his lungs with air and, eyes closed, exhaled deeply relaxing into the breath. He sat still, breath coming in shallow swallows until he lifted his hand once more for a light drag. Then, with sense memory born of a habit he’d had longer than he wanted to remember, he swung his arm slightly out to the right and with his thumb flicked the imaginary ash off of the tip of the imaginary cigarette. He relaxed deeper into the leather.

Without looking he knew that the chrome pedestal ashtray that had been beside the chair during his first couple meetings was gone. Had been for a while. That was something anyway. He heard the door open and stiffened slightly. He shook out his right hand to erase any evidence of the illusory cigarette.

He turned his head and half rose to acknowledge Sidney Bethel’s entrance. “Hi Doc”, he said.

“Good morning Ben. Stay where you are. Don’t bother to get up.” In passing she pressed her hand onto his shoulder to push him back into the leather. “How are you today?”

“Good, good…beautiful morning.”

She lay a warm hand against his cheek and caught his eyes the way she did. He knew better than to look away. Her green eyes probed deeply as if looking for the lie in his simplest answer. Looking for anything below the surface. His most begnine answers were always questioned. She believed if you learned to be honest and completely open in the small things the larger things would take care of themselves. Her gaze was warm and searching-helpful, not accusing, and he relaxed into her without moving.

Then, satisfied, she straightened and moved to her desk. She didn’t move behind it to her chair, instead chose to pop herself up and sit on it. This put her closer to Ben but still above him, something sitting on the chair beside him wouldn’t have given her. That thought hadn’t necessarily occurred to him, but she knew it. She was a master of non-threatening informal authority. The “Doctor” title was a bit of a stretch. There were no framed diplomas or certificates on the walls-just some tasteful abstracts and one painting of an amusement park carosel. At one time medical school was in her plans but she happily had found her calling before that investment. Some called her Sidney, some Ms. Bethel, not many “Doc” but whatever worked for him.

Her “uniform” in her office was always a variation on what she wore today. Black slacks that rode low on her hips and flats. Even then she was a strong 5’ 10” and taller than most of her patients. She wore a tailored white oxford shirt that cupped her breasts and bloomed upward opening at the neck revealing a small silver chain. The sleeves were rolled precisely twice, crisply revealing tanned forearms.

When Ben had first met her he thought she was a “knockout”. That was the word that actually bounced around in his head. If he had told anyone about her he would have said his therapist was a “knockout”. But that wasn’t the phrase he had rumbling in his mind these days. Her looks hadn’t changed-she was still striking with the dark hair flowing to her shoulders, her perfectly pearly orthodontia, high cheekbones and deep inviting eyes.

The word he might use to describe her now was “comfortable”. Which was odd when you considered the type of therapy she practiced. Her office small talk was never forced and always pulled him into a conversation. She talked about running with her dogs and training for one of those muddy-trail runs or whatever leaving enough holes to allow him to tell her that he had done some running too. “Oh? On the trail or road?” and she would listen and prod and want more detail.

When the conversation lulled finally she reached into a wooden in-box on her desk and pulled out a file. She opened it on her lap and snapped it closed again. “Today was supposed to be 183, right? That was the target.”

“Yep.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“I should be fine” he said with a tiny cloud passing over his eyes that he thought he hid but she saw it as easily as she would a mannequin in a window.

“Really?” she said simply with only the slightest lift at the corner of her mouth.

“No”, he looked away quickly then back, “yes-it was tough over the weekend-did some traveling. It’s hard to watch on the road. But since has been good….I should be fine.” This last he told to the floor before finally looking up to allow her eyes to lock his again.

“Let’s have a look then”-she lifted her hand over toward the scale.

“Let’s lose these first”, he said bending to untie his shoes.

“By all means”.

Her patients could weigh in however they wanted as long as they were consistent. Some stayed fully dressed, shoes and coats. Some decidedly did not. If they missed their goals, then there were prescribed measures and penalties that sometimes dictated how “dressed” they remained. The key was making the weight and doing whatever had to be done to do that.

Ben had always weighed in “airline style” No belt, shoes wallet. He did that, placing his items on the table. Then, before stepping on the scale he nervously took off his shirt. He smiled sheepishly and said “what the hell”, as if in explanation.  Sidney had moved over beside the scale and turned it on. The screen winked to life then settled into a soft blue glow.

He paused-actually froze. He didn’t feel good about this. He really didn’t. She took a half-step back as if he needed more room. He looked up and gave a nervous half smile before exhaling (as if the breath in his lungs weighed anything) and stepped gently onto the rubber pad. The number on the read-out flashed at 189.

“What?” he said as if the machine had spoken.

“Ben, that’s more than last week.” She had given him a modest goal of four pounds for the week.

“I know, I know”, he flustered. He was rubbing his hands on his thighs. “Wait a minute”, he took off his T-shirt and lay it over the chair. Then he sat on the chair and rolled off his socks. He stood and stepped back to the scale. Again, he exhaled and tip-toed up. 188.

“Dammit”, he whispered watching the number as if waiting for it to change.

“Step off Ben.”

“Wait, I get one more chance.” That was the weigh-in rule. Three tries to make the weight.

“Do you think your trousers weigh five pounds?”

“Look…I get…I get another chance, right?” he was stammering. She was silent and he was avoiding looking at her. “I mean, do you mind?” He waited for her answer. “Is that OK?”

“You get a third chance”, she said flatly.

He stepped back from the scale and unbuttoned then unzipped his pants. He slid them down and stepped out of them, one leg then the other. He lay them over the back of the chair then paused as he was stepping toward the scale. Still not looking at Sidney he hooked his thumbs in the elastic of his boxers and slipped them down. Bending, he flipped them onto his shoes.

Looking up finally he gave a little shrug. “That’s it…”

She regarded him carefully as he cut his eyes away again. He hadn’t been nude in here before-pants down yes-but that was it. He wasn’t in bad shape-strong across the chest and shoulders-a little settling through the waist and hips but not bad for a guy his age. She could see clearly where he could lose the twenty pounds he had talked about when he first visited but the solid thickening in his cock as he stood before her made it clear that losing the weight was no better than a secondary goal of coming to Dr. Bethel. Which sort of ticked her off-though it shouldn’t.

“Scale”, she said.

He flowed slowly past her and paused before stepping gently back on the pad. She stepped beside him closely enough to catch his scent and feel the warmth radiating from his body. He in turn kept his eyes shut feeling the butterflies careening around in his stomach and his dick getting harder. She noticed it-couldn’t NOT notice it-as she looked down at the read-out.

“185”, she said with an impatient sigh. “Get off the scale Benjamin.”

He stepped back and stood before her eyes downcast. They stood a moment before Sidney broke the silence.

“What are you doing here Benjamin? Why do you come to my office?” He had nothing to say. “More to the point, what am I doing here? I’ve put time into you haven’t I? Haven’t I done my best for you in trying to help you lose the weight that YOU wanted to lose-that you ASKED ME to help you lose? Haven’t I held up my end of the bargain?”

“I’m trying,” he said miserably.

“Yes, I realize that. But eventually trying has to become doing, right?”

He said nothing. “Again, I ask you-have I held up my end of the bargain?”

“Yes”.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, you’ve held up your end of the bargain.”

“And you Benjamin. Have you held up yours? Have you?”

“No.”

“No, indeed.” She stepped a little closer but not by much to avoid his engorged cock thrusting itself forward like a jousting lance. “Look at me”, she commanded. He lifted his eyes to hers slowly.

“I’m so disappointed in you Benjamin. So disappointed. You’ve let me down. Let me down. And more importantly, you’ve let yourself down. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry”, he said quietly-almost breathlessly.

“You’re sorry.”

“I am. I’m sorry that I…let you down.”

She let that hang in the air for a moment.

“I’ll venture that you’re about to be a lot sorrier.”

“Yes, mam.”

She stepped to the side. “Go over to my desk, Benjamin. Stand in front of it.”

He did as he was told. Standing on the plush carpet and gazing at the scudding clouds out the window gave him a chance to take the first deep cleansing breaths he had attempted since she started scolding him. His chest felt light and the fluttering in his stomach had settled a little further down.

She stepped into his line of sight on the right and opened the door to a slim cabinet mounted on the wall. On the back of the door hung a wooden paddle he had never seen before. It was two feet long, about four inches wide and polished to a bright golden color. She regarded it carefully and gripped it tightly-slapping it gently into her open left palm. “I think this will do the trick.”

His heart began racing a bit again.

“What do you think, Benjamin? Do you think this will do the trick?”

“Yes, mam”.

“Indeed…”

She moved back out of sight behind him and he cut his eyes back to the clouds trying to recover that sense of calm he had just a moment ago. No dice. She was standing behind him now.

“Spread your legs a bit, Benjamin.”

He did as he was told.

“Now bend over. Put your hands on the edge of the desk.”

He did that, concentrating on the close tight grain of the wood below him.

She took advantage of the breathless anticipation to regard the smooth white bottom which he was offering up to her. She knew what he was expecting right now but her plan-as always-was to go beyond expectations. Regardless of what she told him in their session, Ben not reaching his goal twice in the last two months was almost as much on her as it was on him. She resolved this would be memorable for him but she was piecing together a plan….

She placed the paddle gently across his cheeks, patted once then reared back watching him tense. The first swat landed with a resounding SMACK fully across the center.

“Owwww”, Ben yelled and jumped up grabbing his bottom with both hands. “Ow-Jesus!” he said, rubbing and kneading. “That HURT!”

She crossed her arms sternly holding the paddle upright on display. “It absolutely hurt-it was supposed to. It’s a shame you couldn’t hold your position because it didn’t count and now you get sixteen more.”

“Sixteen? I never got more than six!”

He had turned slightly toward her still rubbing his backside. She could see that, while his cock wasn’t waving as proudly as it had been, it was still thick-still in the game.

“Do you really want to argue with me right now?” she asked grimly through tightened lips.

He deflated a bit and without another word turned back to the desk. He bent-putting both hands on the edge of the surface and arched his back slightly.

“No”, she said. “Elbows and palms on the desk.”

He did as she ordered without hesitation feeling the slight twinge at the top of his hamstrings as he bent a little further. She patted again the cheek that was a touch mottled from the first swat and swung again smacking the same spot. Ben was better prepared this time and not surprised by the intensity. He managed to keep his mouth closed and made no sound. After the third he rose on his toes and after the forth, slapped the desk with is hand. She was taking enough time with his punishment to allow the heat to rise from one swat before blistering him with the next.

He gritted his teeth and pressed his eyelids tightly enough that he saw flashed of red and gold. The shit I get myself into he thought.

Sidney Bethel paid close attention to what she was doing. Being right handed, most of the power of the paddle was landing on Ben’s tortured right cheek where a small plum colored bruise had just bloomed. She took a half step backward and delivered the next blow squarely on the barely pink left cheek. Then another quickly. Ben rose on his toes again and bounced on his heels trying to dissipate the burn which felt like a hot iron pressed against his backside. She swatted him twice more while he was hopping and he yipped behind his clenched teeth.

“Breathe, Ben”, she said pausing.  “Just breathe and relax…”

He did, dropping flat footed and allowing his knees to bend slightly relaxing his butt. Both cheeks were now balanced in color-deep reds and pinks with only the single bruise on the right. The skin looked dry and hot as he reached back gingerly to touch it. “You OK?” she asked?

“Yeah-fine” he said his voice hoarse and low. “Was he crying?” Sidney wondered suddenly nervous. She didn’t want that to happen. Maybe she had gone a little too far-God knows he wouldn’t ask her to stop. “How many was that?” she asked him.

“I’m not sure”, he said-his voice stronger. She relaxed a little. “I quit counting around eight or nine.”

“Thirteen. That was thirteen.”

“Jesus…” he stopped rubbing taking her count to be the order to resume. He bent slowly back over and arched his back offering his tight tortured bottom back to her. She stepped away and lay the paddle on the desk beside him.

“Stay where you are”, she ordered. Ben wasn’t sure what she had in store for the last three swats but was comfortable in thinking that anything would be preferable to the paddle.  Sidney picked a small bottle of lotion off the table and brought it over to where Ben’s ass was glowing like a hot brazier. He tensed feeling her behind him.

“Relax”, she said. “Just relax. We’re calling you done.”

“Really?” he said looking over his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“See? I’m not so bad…”

She squeezed a dollop of the special mix aloe and vitamin E into her right hand and touched it to his bruised right cheek. He jumped as it she had stuck him with a needle.

“Shhh…” she said. “Just settle.”

He did as he was told enjoying the soft cooling of the lotion and her massaging hand first on his right cheek, then on his left. Up till this instant a handshake had been their only physical contact. He spread his legs a little further to give her further access to anything that she wanted. She saw the move, of course and slapped him lightly on the cheek.

“Don’t get any ideas, big boy.”

“No!” he said quickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it…” She rubbed the lotion deeply into the skin from the top of his legs across both cooling hemispheres. “Here is what I’m thinking…You come back in two weeks, right?”

“Yes-two weeks.”

“OK. I expect you to weigh 178 then, understand? That’s seven pounds in two weeks.”

“I can do that.”

“I know you can-and I know you will. Because we’re going to change this up a little for your next visit.”

Ben was listening as best he could but the blood rushing to his cock as Sidney rubbed his sore bottom was almost drowning everything out. He was wishing she would reach between his legs but afraid knowing that if she touched his rod at all, he would spew all over her desk like a thirteen year old.

“For you next visit, you will weigh in naked, just like today. If you don’t make the weight-if you are not 178 or less-you will get dressed and leave. We’ll try again for the following week.”

“No penalty?”

“Not like that-more like an incentive. If you DO make weight, I will sit on the couch over there put you over my lap and spank you with a hairbrush. Would you like that?”

“I think I would like that…” he said breathlessly.

“And…I’ll wear a skirt that day. A short one. Would you like that?”

He moaned almost inaudibly and dropped his head. “Yes.”

“Very well…” she stepped away from his glowing butt and but the cap on the lotion. “I have another appointment upstairs that I’m late for.” She moved a box of tissue to the front of the table. “Take as much time to…compose yourself…as you need and I’ll see you in two weeks.”

“Thanks, Doc”, he said but by the time he stood and turned, she was gone, pulling the door closed behind her. “Oh man…”, he sighed rubbing is bottom absently.

That afternoon, his assistant Moliere stuck her head in the door of his corner office where he sat gingerly on one cheek watching the three screens in front of him. “I’m running down for a Danish and coffee”, she announced-ready to take his order for his three o’clock sugar fix.

“Not for me, Molly.”

“Really?”

“Have to lose a few pounds.”

“Sure-I know, but one Danish. A donut?”

“No-this time I really have to lose it…”

“OK-how about just a coffee then?”

“Black”.

“K!” and she was gone as he tried with a wince to settle onto both cheeks.