Continued from Jennie’s Behind the Bar
It wasn’t long before Jennie found her way to me. She had been scrolling through her phone at the other end of the bar. She got close enough to smell the smoke.
“You’re supposed to have a cigarette after…” she said slyly.
“I did…”
“That was just kissing…”, she said. “I mean the BIG after.”
Unaccustomed as I was to this sort of banter, I had enough game to reach into my top pocket and pull out the second purloined cigarette. “Covered” I said.
At that her look, while still smiling and open, seemed to slip from simple flirting to something more intentional.
“Here let me show you something” She thumbed through her phone and found what she was looking for. “You should print this as a poster”, she said, shoving the phone close to my face. It was a photo of four young women facing a wall, pants down and bright red bottoms very much on display. The title lines read “Spankings will continue until morale improves.”
Now it was my turn to smile and lean into her game. Keeping my voice low, since she had folks at the other end of the bar, “You’re not going to call that little love tap back there a spanking are you?” I scoffed.
“No” she said.” I’m just showing you what real spankings look like.”
“I’m well aware”, I leaned back and gave her a squinty “older guy knowledge” look.
“Oh yeah? Your place or mine?” She asked, tossing the line so easily it could have been a joke. She slipped the phone into her back pocket from where it winked at me as she purposely wiggled her backside as she walked to refill her friends.
It wasn’t a joke but a good and seemingly simple question. My big empty house was not too far away. I had kept it when Timmie’s mother ran off because she had taken the advice my old man had given and I’d ignored: ”It’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich one as a poor one.” She had been a secretary for a builder that had done quite well on a few subdivisions upstream. Through him she met an architect who had done better than “quite well” and now she lived in a big new stone home with a pool quite a few zip codes from mine.
True, my place had that special rumpled quality that will happen when a guy lives alone for a couple of years. Even Timmie gave up trying to make sense of all of my habitual nonsense on her monthly visits. But for the general dishevelment, my place made the most sense, and I was going to tell Jennie that when her orbital trajectory next brought her around, but she beat me to it.
“Let’s do my place”, she whispered conspiratorially.
“You live over in The Run, right?”
“Above Champion Plumbing.”
I knew the place. Big shop with apartments above. Probably for the best. The last time Jennie was in my house was for a team pizza party when she was fourteen and those memories mashing up against this reality might have been more than I could bear. Might have.
“Mike Champion is like my mother’s second cousin. So I got the place on a deal. I’m the only one there and nobody works at night, so it’s quiet.” The wink wasn’t necessary. I got the point.
“Besides, I have something I want you to try.”
My curiosity, on top of everything else, was piqued. Things seemed to take on a life of their own after that. A slow night got slower as Jennie chased off her crew with a few free drinks and we were able to close early. “I’m going to head over now, if that’s OK. I’ll leave the porch light on-door will be unlocked.”
Trying not to rush, it took me about fifteen minutes to close up. Her beat up little Subaru was parked beside the Champion Building where a set of wooden steps ascended to a small platform porch with a railing and enough room for two folding resin chairs. A faded awning was the roof.
I turned the knob and stepped into a small, clean kitchen. On the counter, beside the sink was an unopened bottle of Blanton’s. For my money, the top of the bourbon line and definitely above Jennie’s pay grade. I was holding the bottle when she came out of the bedroom. She had changed from her jeans into what was normally her bartending uniform: black mid calf Yoga pants and a green “Oaks” T-shirt. She had brushed her hair out so it framed the smile that made my heart flip.She turned, modeling, “Since you’re always checking out my ass in these, I thought you might like if I wore them.”
I did indeed and told her so. “Is this what you wanted me to try?” I nodded at the bottle.
“Mmmmm”, one of the things.
“Had to set you back.”
“I never thanked you properly for getting me in at The Oaks.”
I didn’t tell her that I should be thanking her. She had brought some new life to the place; business was up a bit, not a lot, but some. Regulars responded to her smile and enthusiasm. Nothing against Jolene, but “chill” was her thing. She was very good but could be off putting over time. And I’ll be damned if Diana didn’t start coming around more in the evenings. Sure, some of that was checking out the new bartender’s performance. But some of it was checking out the new bartender.
I snapped the seal on the bottle and opened the cabinet above the sink. There were four short, square highball glasses, compliments of The Oaks. I gave Jennie the raised eyebrow and in return she winked and bit the tip of her tongue at me again.
“Do you want one?” I asked.
“No, I’ll try yours.”
One ice cube, two fingers of bourbon and a couple of swirls to unlock the flavors. I nodded her over and tossed a “C’mere” her way. She slid in beside me and I raised the glass to her.
“Not like that”, she said. “Take a drink.”
I did and she pulled my mouth down to hers and made sure to lick every droplet of the liquor off my lips as well as anything left in my mouth. “Yummy.” She said, “Bourbon’s good too.”
“You said you had something else for me to try.”
She smiled and put her finger to my lips and backed away, then turned and walked into the living room. Again, neat and relatively spartan, sofa, wall mounted flat screen, armless chair that drew my attention. As I was surveying, she went to the corner and retrieved something. She handed it to me handle first as if relinquishing a sword.. “Isn’t it a beauty?” It was a highly polished sorority paddle with Greek letters decorating one side. The other side bore the signatures of dozens of girls and dates. It was from the 1960’s. “I picked it up at an antique shop over in Larimer a couple of weeks ago. “It was in the window! I saw it and my heart started flipping and my face went all hot. Had to have it.”
“I must have been in a state because the woman in the shop asked me if I wanted to try it out. I almost had a heart attack! I didn’t know if I would try it out on her or she on me.”
“Why didn’t you ask?”
“I could barely talk as it was. All this…stuff that’s been in my head for years. I thought it was just me! Turns out they’re fetishes and a lotta people have them. Seeing there was someone else…” I remembered what I’d found in Diana’s office but said nothing.
“You should take it back and tell her it doesn’t work.”
“Get her to demonstrate!”
“You’re liable to get a sore bum out of the deal.”
“That would be the hope.” With that, she turned round and bent, hands on knees and for the second time that evening offered her bottom for a smack. I hefted the paddle and pressed it into the stretched lycra covering her bottom enjoying the give. Then pulled it back and flicked her backside with a wrist slap. She wriggled and said. “Thank you sir, may I please have another?”
“Yes you may. But not right now…” Taking her arm I stood her up and walked her over to the chair, where I took a seat. The paddle was a little impersonal for me. I wanted my hands on her.
“Let’s start with a little spanking between friends.” Her face was flushed and she was alternating breaths between nose and mouth. I spread my knees and drew her in, grasping the top of her pants. Her eyes closed as I slipped the back of my hand against the velvety softness of her belly. I pulled further down in front unil I could feel the hair against my fingertips, then further to the dewey confluence of her legs.
“We had better get these down”, I said, moving both hands to her sides and peeling.
“…Yes…” she said huskily as if awakening from a dream. Without panties the soft garment clung between her legs but for a moment before rolling to her feet where she stepped out of them. .
I would have thought after ogling her as thoroughly as I had over the weeks that she would have had few secrets. I would have been wrong. As she slowly offered herself over my lap she revealed a flawlessly rounded, deeply cleft bottom, in a perfect shade of cream accented only by the light peach blush the paddle had left.. I settled my right hand over her right cheek eliciting a charming little gasp and wriggle. “You’re ready for this…” I said.
“Mmmmm”, came her answer. “So ready.”
I slapped her lightly a few times, alternating cheeks. If she suffered at all it was in silence, her slow undulations as she lay over my lap the only reaction to what was happening. I was quite literally, feeling my way, switching from full on smacks to slaps with my fingers but never extending my arm, only turning my wrist which was turning Jennie’s bottom a beautiful mottled pink. I had settled into a rhythm that was working for me, but maybe not for her. She tried to speak but her voice caught. Clearing her throat, she said, “Harder, please.”
“Harder?”
She looked back over her shoulder, clear eyed with cheeks almost as pink as her bottom ones. With a devilish smile she said “Spank me like I was bad.”
I had been afraid of hurting her. Now I was afraid I was boring her.
“Alright young lady,” I growled and pulled her tightly into me, left arm circling her waist. I raised my right hand straight up and brought it down hard but not full force on the middle of her right cheek. I could feel the difference immediately. My palm tingled and the blow echoed not only through the room, but up to my shoulder. “Yessss…” was Jennie’s hissed response. So I continued, alternating sides, then settled for awhile on the soft thickness at the bottom of her bottom. She became more and more animated and gifted me with “Ouches” and mewls. We both enjoyed, she more than I, the swats that landed exactly between both cheeks and rang down her valley creating an avalanche of deep feeling that brought yelps.
I took a pause to slip my hand tentatively between her legs. Where she had been damp was now in flood.
“Good God, girl!”
“I know, right?” she fairly giggled and spread her legs in a way I couldn’t have imagined a few short days ago.. When she again settled, her outside foot was on the floor, bracing herself to push upward, raising her now deeply colored bum and her dripping sex upward.
“May I have some more sir?” she giggled.
A few more smacks to her tensed right cheek brought her foot back up off the floor and a resumption of her slithering movement distracted from my mission.
After a swat I left my hand where it was for a moment and squeezed lightly. She froze attentively, then began to move in a most lewd way as my hand slipped from her solid right cheek, down to the top of her thigh, then between her legs. It wasn’t as if I was traveling uncharted territory down there, but it had been awhile since I’d walked this particular path. “Ahhhh”, she sighed loudly as my fingers finally found that spot just inside her.
I could have held my hand steady and let her do all the work but there is nothing like pleasing someone you want to please. So I caught her rhythm and rubbed until she cried out and shuddered, arching her back. She relaxed in phases, settling and twitching, then deflating completely hanging across my legs like laundry. All the while I was gently stroking her warm cheeks.
When she finally, with my help, pulled herself up she sat on my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. “I can’t believe you made me cum..”
“That was the point, no?”
“Hadn’t thought about it. Just wanted my ass beat. Anything else was in the hands of the universe…and you,” She grinned as I gazed down to where she was glistening-her bush looking frosted in the lamplight.
“Round two”, she announced and stood. As she moved into her bedroom I did what I’d been doing for weeks; watched her bum walk away but never like this. I saw a soft light switch on and heard a rustling of bedclothes.
“You coming?” she called
I stood, having to arrange myself to walk comfortably. We’d have to do something about that.
“Don’t forget the paddle”, she said. I would have.
He found himself at sea;
alone, misfiled, misplaced:
a spoon among the forks trying
To understand where he fit.
What did he know about menopause?
About what years did down there
Turning wetlands into deserts;
Lush marshes into
Craggy rocky places.
One adapts, he was told.
She had a plan.
Will you take off your pants
At least? he asked.
She played tennis and
knew her legs drove him wild.
Of course, she said.
But strip now.
He did as he was told and she,
Like a mom with a recalcitrant toddler,
Took him by the ear and patted his bum
Toward the bedroom.
Am I going to regret this
In the morning? he asked.
Of course darling, she purred.
That’s what mornings are for.
Hot Bottoms 