Scenes From An Italian Restaurant-Finale

(Continued from Scenes From An Italian Restaurant- Three)

Antonio lay the spatula across her back and held it with his left hand. With his right, he cupped her bottom gently. “This is going to be good one”, he said.

“I know”, she peeped.

“But when you’re done-it will all be over.”

“Clean slate!” she said softly to the floor.

Marie saw the first swat coming and still jumped, startled by the sound at impact. She hadn’t settled when the second landed in the same place; fully on the right globe which after only two smacks was flushing pink. The third landed more in the middle of her butt resonating down her shallow crack and between her legs. Then the other cheek. Marie’s eyes wandered nowhere else but she kept her hand at her breast as if to keep her heart inside.

Connie, for her part, hung on gritting her teeth and trying to dig her fingertips into the hard floor tiles. She was surprised that her eyes were stinging already. Yes, his hand was heavy, yes his hand hurt, yes her ass was burning. But not enough to make her cry. She blinked when a smack landed low, where the bottom meets the leg, and a tear splashed delicately between her hands. Her mouth, already open, betrayed her with a small cough. Then another and finally a whispered “Ouch”.

“Well” said Tony, “I’d say that’s enough for the warmup.”

“Oh Dear…” thought Marie and, with no thought of sitting, slipped behind the bar table as if behind a battlement protecting her from what she was seeing. And what was she seeing-or feeling? It was strange how her own bottom was itching. Connie gave no outward sign of crying, just the drops that were sprinkling silently onto the floor. She felt his movement and the spatula was gone from her back.

“Are you ready for this Constance?”

“Yes, Chef. Please.”

She exhaled and relaxed, softening her clenched bottom.  At the first stroke of the spatula she allowed a wall to buckle and cried “Owww…” Then, after the third, began crying in earnest. The swats burned and she reacted to each with a yelp or a twist but all under the soft veil of tears that had seemingly come forth unbidden-on their own.

Chef Tony was nothing if not precise. The welts he was leaving on her bottom were adjoining but seldom overlapping. Connie was not a kicker but couldn’t stop her legs from scissoring nor her toes from dancing, bundling her jeans and panties at her ankles. As she cried beneath his hand, Antonio twisted his arm around her waist and increased the tattoo on her aching bottom to a loud fast “Rat-tat-tat”. Marie’s hands had moved from her breast to her face. When she told about it later she would swear later that Chef’s arm was a blur.

“Tony!” she called to him after another moment. “Tony?”

He stopped what he was doing and looked up as if surprised to find someone else in the room. Without the loud cracking, slapping and wailing, a silence colored only by Connie’s soft sobbing, settled over the room.

“Yes Marie?”

She was holding out a handkerchief toward Connie’s head. Antonio nodded. She approached and held the hanky down where her friend could see it. The floor between her hands was puddled.

“Thanks”, snuffled Connie taking it and drying her eyes as best she could. Marie stood a moment next to the furnace that was Connie’s backside. No longer pink, it was a mottled red and burgundy-the color of spilled wine. She retreated back to her spot behind the table but there was no need.

“Are you done sweetheart?” asked Tony softly, gently cupping her bottom.

She took a deep breath, thinking about it and wiped her nose. “Yes, Chef.”

He patted again. “Good. Come on….”

He helped her up and she stood shakily beside him patting her bottom. He stood and wrapped his strong arms around her squeezing. Her rear glowed like a brazier in the dim light and Marie eventually looked away. “Beautiful”, was all he said kissing Connie on top of the head.  “Now pull up your pants…”

“Can’t I leave them down?” she sniffled, patting her glowing butt.

“No you can’t”, he said lightly. “Not that kind of place.”

He turned his attention to Marie.

“Now, you….”

“What?” she asked in a gasp. He said nothing else. She felt a need to fan herself but didn’t move.

“What Chef?” she asked again having slid back behind the table.

“You’re never too old you know.”

“For what? For…no way Chef! I’m too…” she stopped herself.

“No you’re not.”

“Chef. Tony. I couldn’t…”

“Then why are you here?”

The truth nearly escaped when she opened her mouth, but instead she said, “For her!” and waved her hand toward Connie hoping for some support. Her friend was seemingly paying no attention, engrossed in gingerly pulling up her panties then her jeans, trying not to scrape unduly across her hot skin.

“Connie?” she asked.

“I think you should,” she said in a small voice not looking up.

“What?! I…Chef…”

“If not now, when?”, asked Connie finally looking up.

“O Jesus”, she said to herself. The room seemed to be moving around her.

“Take off your jacket Marie…” said Tony, feeling that she needed a direction.

Words died in her mouth. She desperately wanted to tell him that she did want this-that she’d wanted it for a long time but couldn’t imagine how to ask. She might have been able to live her whole life out without this if he and Connie hadn’t started playing like this. Was it their fault? Was it hers? Was it anyone’s? This is what she was thinking as she was saying nothing…and unbuttoning her jacket.

Chef Tony sat back down and beckoned her over. She slid out from behind the table dragging her hand across the top. It took an hour to cross the three strides. She waggled a finger and Connie who was now, fully clothed and watching. “You, you….”

Connie smiled through her tear streaked face and leaned against the bar.

Marie stood before her seated boss with her hands at her sides not resisting as Tony reached out and unsnapped her jeans. He unzipped them and worked them down over her hips.

“You might need a bigger spatula for me.”

Connie giggled…

“I think my hand will cover enough ground.”

He helped her into position. “I don’t fit as well as that one…”

“You fit fine. Now lift up”.

“Tony-Really?”

He patted the tight cotton encasing her bottom. “Really.”

She lifted up, and squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment as he slowly pulled down her underwear. She mouthed a nasally “Ooohhh…” to convince anyone listening including herself that she wasn’t giving into this easily. She breathed deeply as the cool air washed over her naked bottom. Then she felt his hot hand on the back of her thigh.

“Tell me again what I’ve done to deserve this.”

“Lived too long without it.”

She relaxed and felt her body form to his lap. He wasn’t in a hurry. “Yes…Too long…” she sighed just loudly enough to be heard by both.

Those are beautiful sandals she thought absently as she grabbed Antonio’s ankle and waited.

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Scenes From An Italian Restaurant- Three

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Uncredited from Tumblr

(Continued from Scenes From An Italian Restaurant – Two)

At six sharp the staff was gone, the door locked, house lights out and the bar dimmed. Connie and Marie moved through the room staying busy-wiping the clean bar or counting cheese in the fridge for the fifth time. At 6:10 Connie looked at the clock and sighed, untying her apron.

“Jesus, Tony”, she whispered.

“Yeah, right…” Marie answered tightly peeling her tongue from the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t have been more nervous if she were the one awaiting a spanking.

Then, ten minutes later, they heard the kitchen door swing open and their eyes settled on Antonio striding into the room. He had changed into a white logo-T that clung to his chest and shoulders and carried a long wooden spatula with three holes drilled down the center. Every time Connie happened into the kitchen she would glance at that particular tool hanging innocently above the stove with all the other utensils at the ready to stir a deep pot of sauce or anything else the chef saw fit to do with it.

Antonio pulled an armless wooden chair into the open space behind the barstools. “Good day today, Ladies. For a Sunday. Everything turn out OK?”

“Yes, Chef”, they echoed.

“Money?”

“All good”, Connie answered with a wry smile. “Counted and in the safe.”

“No more broken glasses?” he looked at Marie and she almost jumped-she had forgotten that.

“No Chef.”

Antonio sat. “Good, good…One question Connie”, he said looking up, seemingly taller than she even when sitting. “Seriously. And the truth. Were you drinking last night?”

“No!” She said quickly. Then, “well no more than usual…a glass of wine at close. Same as always.”

“That’s no problem. You’re a forty year old woman, if you can ‘t have a drink what’s the world coming to?”

“I’m thirty seven”, she chirped knowing she was being teased.

“So I round up.”

“You could round down to thirty five, you know.”

“Thirty seven, thirty five-what’s it matter? You run rings around the twenty five year olds.” He nodded over to Marie, “Between you and Sophia Loren over there you’re the best I got. Best I ever had. Without you two, I close down and go back into retail.”

Marie nodded a small bow. “Thanks, Chef”, said Connie standing like a penitent before him, eyes downcast.

“But that’s why what happened last night is so wrong. You know better-you know what to do but you don’t do it!”

“I do most of the time”, she said almost whining with her head down. Marie, watching intently, almost expected her to kick at the floor.

“People don’t come here because we’re good ‘most of the time’ do they? This is not a forgiving business. We have to be on the razor’s edge all of the time, right?”

“Yes, Chef.”

“Sometimes I have to help you focus, right? To…help you keep your thoughts on the tasks at hand right?” Then, when she didn’t answer, “Right?”

“Yes Chef”, she said softly.

“You have to be…what is it? ‘In the moment?’ Don’t think of something else until the one thing is done. Right?”

“Hundred percent right Chef.”

“Oh, you agree then…”

“Yes, Chef.”

“You weren’t in the moment last night were you?”

“Jesus”, thought Marie. She might cry if she were ever scolded like this. Antonio might yell-but she never knew him to lecture. She glanced at Connie who looked for all the world like a chastened, naughty child and felt tremendously uncomfortable. She had slipped into a memory that she couldn’t exactly remember, but could feel.

“No Chef.”

“Why not?”

“I…don’t know, Chef”, she said miserably. “I’m sorry….”

“That’s OK. I’m going to make it right. See? I’m focused. I’m in the moment. The only thing I’m thinking about right now is paddling your bottom. Only thing on my mind.”

“Mine too, as it turns out.”

“Come on then.” He waved her over with the spatula that Connie was trying to avoid seeing. She moved to his right side and unsnapped her jeans. She would typically lay over his lap and he would pull them down when he was ready-usually well into the spanking. But now, “You might as well take them down”, he said.

“Oh, OK”, she said with nary a pause but a small gulp. She unzipped them and let them slide, with little prompting into a pile around her feet. He had put the spatula down and reached up to take her hand. Gently, as if leading her onto a pitching boat, he helped her settle across his lap.

“I don’t know Connie,” he said patting the back of her leg. “It seems like a long time since you’ve been here but you fit so well.”

She shrugged a rueful smile that no one could see, staring as she was at the ceramic tiles and Antonio’s leather sandals. It was true though-she had been with him for close to twelve years and two restaurants-started when she was twenty five. How many times had she had this view of his footwear?

But it had never gone beyond that. When she was married-which happily she hadn’t been for six years now-her husband never knew that her boss spanked her. He would have assumed what everybody assumed; that a good spanking was a prelude to a good fucking. It had never been like that for her. Or for Antonio.

“It’s probably been too long”, Connie said upside down.

“Probably. I’ve been neglectful…Forgive me. ”

She wriggled as he pulled her panties down easily over her slim bottom. “Oh, oh”, she thought. He had never started in on the bare-he always worked up to it. He pushed them all the way to her knees leaving her exposed in a way she hadn’t expected.

“Oh, oh”, thought Marie from the pub table where she leaned. The generalized flutter in her chest grew into more of a drumbeat. Without realizing it she had lifted her hand to her breast like an old woman with the vapors. She had told herself that she was here to support Connie-maybe comfort her in her time of need. She had told herself that to make it seem like she was here for more than to watch her friend being spanked. But now, seeing her bare bottom just feet away, she wasn’t so sure her intentions were all that noble. She suddenly had trouble trying to figure out where to put her eyes.

To be continued…

Scenes From An Italian Restaurant – Two

(Continued from Scenes From An Italian Restaurant – One)

By the time Connie returned, most of the wait staff was in place and William, the regular bartender, had called off. So she, along with Marie would cover the bar which wouldn’t be a big deal on a Sunday PLUS her regular tables. When people asked how she stayed so thin she’d tell them, “Come watch me work!” But she was smooth and flowing; not herky-jerky the way some looked when they were rushing about.  She’d done this long enough to anticipate where she was needed and had an amazing memory for faces and particularly drinks.  Nobody was thirsty in her bar.

She caught Marie watching her once and raised her eyebrows in a “what’s up?”

“You OK?” Marie mouthed. She answered with a tight smile and a nod. But now that Marie had brought it up, thank you, she wasn’t completely OK. Being busy stopped her from thinking about last night-from trying to remember what caused her to leave the cash out…to forget the change this morning…whatever had scattered her. And she wasn’t crazy-she knew what was going to happen to her after close and every time she looked at the clock her chest felt a little lighter and her stomach gurgled. But really, what Chef was going to do to her paled in comparison with how she was beating herself up over last night.

She saw herself the way she was right now: handling tables and the bar-dancing and moving and making money for herself and Antonio. Not as the absent minded waitress who left cash out on the bar overnight. Or forgot to go to the bank this morning. She sidled over to Marie during a lull.

“We’re busier than I thought we’d be.”

“We’re moving them through…”

“Yeah…Well…some are comfortable. Uh…How late you think the staff will be here?” She was concerned about Antonio coming out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon while waitresses were still counting tips.

Marie shrugged, not even looking up. “I told them they had to be gone by six. That there was a private party coming in and we had to turn quick.”

“You did that?” asked Connie smiling.

“You really don’t want to get spanked in front of Dominic”, she said, waving to the pizza guy manning the oven across the room who had no idea what they were talking about.

She squeezed Marie’s arm. “I love you! You…you’re staying?”

“You want me to?”

“Yes.”

Why?

“I don’t know exactly….”

“Nervous?”

“I don’t know. A little, sure.” She leaned against Marie and whispered. “Hurts like hell, I’ll tell you that.”

“I imagine it does. I’ll stay.”

Connie ran her hands back along her temples and patted the tight helmet of jet black hair that sprouted a tight pony tail in back. “Thank you…” she said before turning back to the bar where ‘Chianti in the leather jacket’ was almost empty.

Marie had seen Connie spanked once, years before. She had happened into the restaurant before opening on her day off and heard the two of them arguing in the dining room. By the time she made her way to the archway to see what the ruckus was, the sound of the first swat stopped her cold. Two more steps and she saw them. Connie, leaning against the wall with her butt pushed back and Tony, holding up her skirt smacking her hard on the panties with a wooden spoon, each loud “thwack!” answered with a small “Ow! Ow! Ow!” She had quietly backed out of the room, then the restaurant, feeling what she thought was embarrassment. Maybe fear. But she worried it might have been something else.

Over drinks a couple of weeks later Marie confessed to what she had seen. Connie smiled wistfully over her Negroni. “Yeah, he was pissed…I can’t even remember why…”

“But he….”

Connie reached over and patted her friend’s hand. “Chef and I have…an understanding. It’s OK.” She took another sip in silence then asked, “Did you ever…I mean, did he ever…?”

“Me? No.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Did you ever…at home…?”

“What? Charlie? He won’t even yell at the dog. “

They had giggled like schoolgirls and for the first time Marie began to feel that she was on the outside of something that she wasn’t sure she wanted to be inside of. Wasn’t sure but wasn’t sure she wanted to be on the outside either. Was she missing something? She had known other times when Connie was “going to get it”- that’s the way Connie put it. “I fucked up the wine order and William had to go pick some up-I’m going to get it later”. That was always Marie’s cue to make herself scarce.

But that was her call-she was the one who didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to know what really was going on. Or didn’t want to think about it. She was the matriarch here-the boss was fifteen years her junior. The rest were kids. Connie was closest…she sighed. She couldn’t imagine how that would work. Just couldn’t. But she wondered.

Lost in thought she picked the bottarga from the cooler and put it on the mandoline. Thin even slices. Thin even cuts. Breathe-slice-breathe-slice-thin strokes. “How the hell would that even work?” asked her mind refusing to be lulled.

To Be Continued…

 

Scenes From An Italian Restaurant – One

 

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Connie pulled on the oversized handle and the heavy wooden door-perfectly balanced-opened smoothly. She slipped into the cool dim that was Umberto’s in the morning. It was her favorite time to be in the restaurant: three hours before service: yesterday’s smells a fragrant memory as today’s aromas are just beginning to seep from the kitchen where Antonio’s sauce for the day was simmering.

She walked past the bar and noticed with a start the stack of bills just lying there beside the register. Her heart sank and the warm glow in her chest turned heavy and cold. “Shit!” she whispered immediately looking around to see if anyone was there to see. She had closed last night and her last task was to count the register, make sure the money was right, and put it in the safe. She got it half done.

Connie was staring at the pile of Saturday night cash so intently trying so hard to remember what had distracted her that he didn’t notice Marie come up behind her.

“He told me to leave it there”, she said. “Let you see what he found when he walked in.”

“Christ, I don’t know what I did…if I heard something or what…?”

“You’ve seen it now. Best finish up what you were doing last night.”

Marie was the front-of-the-house queen and to diners in front-seemed to run the place. Just shy of fifty she had an ageless glow that comes from the confidence of, not only knowing your place in the universe, but mastering it. Ostensibly, her prime task was building the charcuterie boards that were Umberto’s best-selling appetizers. She worked behind the bar in full view-surrounded by hanging meats, cheese wheels, knives and slicers.

She wore the Umberto uniform of white logo T-shirt and black jeans. But instead of the apron that wrapped to the hip-bones…revealing jean-clad tushies pushing out as from behind a curtain, she wore a short chef’s coat that hung no lower than her belt, unbuttoned half way down her chest. There was nothing about her body, top or bottom, that she felt a need to hide.

“Jesus, Marie”, Connie hissed through gritted teeth. “This is bad…”

“Not good…”

“Is he pissed?”

“You know Chef…he shook his head. I wished I’d have stayed late to help…”

“No. Don’t be silly. This is my fault.” She bagged the money and set it back on the bar when Antonio stepped into the archway.

“So, is the money right?”

“Yes, chef. It’s right.”

“Just a quick note, if you’re going to leave it on the bar, probably best just to leave it in the register.”

“Yes, chef. I’m sorry….I”

There’s an old saw in the business that you don’t trust a skinny chef. Antonio wasn’t skinny-was once, but not now. His wife’s family own a gym and some of he and Deena’s first dates were there-bonding over dumbbells, as it were. Like a good border-line obsessive, Chef Antonio took to weight training like a starving man to food. Now, standing there in his black V-neck reflecting the V from his shoulders to his waist with the trimmed salt and pepper beard and hair combed straight back he looked like an out-of-place model doing a shoot in a kitchen.

“Did you bring the change?”

“The cha…SHIT!”

Connie lived closest of the three to the only bank around the lake that was open on Sundays. She would typically stop and get a couple hundred dollars in ones and fives for the day.

“You forgot the change.” It was pointedly not a question-which was good because she had no answer for him. Marie slipped a step or two further into the background as the silence seemed to dim the lights. “Now or later?” he asked sternly. The air left the room and it seemed to get warm. Marie dropped her eyes and put an elbow on the bar. Sunday was a short day with a limited menu, but they were close to opening and had a lot to do.

“I really have to run to get that change”, Connie said meeting his sharp eyes with her own puddling.

“Later then.” He turned on his heel and was back to the kitchen.

Marie cleared her throat. “Better this way. He’ll calm down a little.”

Skittish, Connie turned too quickly and knocked a French Press pot off the bar with her elbow. It landed with a shattering crash but happily it fell into the dirty dish bin.

“NOW WHAT?” came a roar from the kitchen.

“Nothing Chef” yelled Marie quickly. “I broke a glass-I got it.” Then quieter, “Jesus, girl. Settle. The die is cast. You want a Xanax or something?”

“A Xanax is not what I need.”

“I know, I know. Hold it together for today-You’ll get what you need. Now get out of here before we’re both in trouble!” She pushed her toward the door with a quick little smack on her jeans.

(To Be Continued….)

The Norwegians-Part 2

(Continued from The Norwegians – Part 1)

“I feel like I’m going to puke…” Jessica said.

“Don’t do that”, Angie said raising her hand. “Would be a mess.” Almost before she brought it back down, Bobby had materialized with two more drinks. Jessica hadn’t realized that she’d swallowed hers during her reverie.

“…I can’t…not back in the office….Jesus. Everyone will know…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Easy for you to say! This is the worst. Hey! Couldn’t you….like intervene…Tell her….”

“Already done”, said Angie leaning back happy to have used the words she’d been rehearsing.

“What’s done?”

“Taken care of. Stephanie and I go way back.”

Angie’s belly fluttered again, this time in relief. “What did you tell her?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it?”

The flutterbies in Angie’s belly turned cold when she looked across the table. “Wait a minute. You knew from the beginning that I wasn’t getting spanked and you let me think….”

“I didn’t say you weren’t getting spanked.”

“B…”

“Stephanie isn’t spanking you. Look. She likes you. You’re good over there and she sees you as an integral part of the team. But, she does have to enforce a level of discipline. If she did it over at the clinic, you are correct, everyone would know about it. Your standing in the eyes of….the team could slip.”

Jessica didn’t really know she had standing.

“So”, Angie continued, “I offered her my place. She’s used it for that before-for discreet discipline or liaisons.  I’m right over in the Gardens.”

“Duquesne Gardens?”

“Yes, silly. Right over there.”

Duquesne Gardens, just now casting its late afternoon shadow over Dish, was the most expensive address in the most expensive part of town. What was this lovely sprite doing living in Duquesne Gardens?

“But…she’s not, right? She’s not coming over.”

“Almost! But she had an engagement tonight. And she didn’t want this thing to drag on so she agreed that I should spank you. For her.”

Jessica scoffed lightly. “Right.”

“No. Really. She gave me the hairbrush out of her desk drawer and all.” Angie had a relaxed little smile as if she had just suggested a movie to see after dinner. “It was my idea…like I said, Steph and I go way back.”

“You’ve done this sort of thing before?”

“No. Look, it was a suggestion, that’s all. You don’t have to go along. I can just let her know that you weren’t comfortable with it and you can work it out with her. Just an option. I’m the option girl.”

Jessica watched the pucker of Angie’s lips as she sipped at her drink. The feeling of having her naked on the exam table not six hours before came wafting back over her but from the bottom up. She felt again the tingle between her legs as she saw the tiny pink flower peeking out from below her bottom-the almost undeniable urge to touch…fondle…kiss.

“It’s a good option”, Jessica said quietly.

“Absolutely!”

“So…when do we do this?”

“As soon as you finish your drink!” Angie answered a light pink flush-which could have been from the drinks-coloring her cheeks. “You wouldn’t want to put this kind of thing off, would you?”

Jess, realizing she was squeezing her legs together, lifted her empty glass.

“Let’s go then.” Angie stood and gathered her notebook.

“Don’t you have to pay…”

“Bobby will take care of it. I have a tab…”

Do people still have tabs, Jessica wondered as she followed unsteadily out the door. Her legs wobbled a tad-just as easily attributable to the liquor as to the music coming from between her legs.

Though Duquesne Gardens towered over them the entrance was still two short blocks away. Jessica followed Angie as well as she could, dodging the salary men and worker bees clogging the sidewalks. She looked away a few times when she realized her eyes were focusing on Angie’s perfectly undulating bottom. When they reached oasis of the awning draped over twenty yards of sidewalk an arrestingly tall door woman with a scythe of dark hair slicing across her eyes from below her cap reached for the door.

“Hi Toni”, Angie chirped.

“Good evening Ms. Miller. And guest.”

“Jessica”, said Angie.

“Jessica” repeated the door woman, passing a striking green-eyed gaze over her. What was it with the eyes today? They held her for a moment then released her, dismissed, like a fish that was too small for the creel. Jess noticed the tail of a tattoo peeking up over the starched collar.

“Wow…” she said following Angie into one of several elevator doors.

“Yes”, she answered. “Double wow. Word to the wise. Try never to find yourself across her lap.”

Jessica opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t utter a squeak. She did squeeze her legs together while Angie hit a code on a keypad inside the elevator. “Going up.”

(To be continued…)

The Norwegians – Part 1

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(Continued from A Visit to the Clinic)

Jessica’s phone buzzed with a text. It was about 3:15. She had avoided Dr. Greene for the day which wasn’t hard to do. She was a competent hustler and other staff were happy to make use of her when they were busy.

She read the text “Meet me at Dish at 4.”

Jessica didn’t recognize the number.

“Who?” she texted back.

“Most spankable ass in the state,” came the reply.

Jessica actually let out a low moan. She had almost…..no, forget that. She hadn’t almost put it out of her mind. Her little escapade in the exam room this morning had roiled her brain all day.

“Don’t know if I can get free.” She texted back with a frowny face emoji that was definitely for effect only.

“You’re shift is over at 330”, came the quick reply. “Steph told me.”

Jessica sighed long and deep, rubbing her temple which should have been worn raw by now. Before she could type anything, came the message: “No choice. Dish 4.”

Finished with her patients at 3:15 and still trying to make herself scarce, Jessica ducked into the locker room. She normally came and went in her scrubs but something about meeting somebody-anybody-at Dish, a high-end Italian fusion restaurant, called for something more than work clothes.

She quickly stripped and jumped in the shower careful not to wet her hair. Within 20 minutes she was in a short, denim skirt, bright floral top and sandals. She checked out with Selena in front and was on the street heading a short four blocks uptown.

The small dark bar was full even at four with sleek young men and women wearing shades of blacks and blues. Grey was the new white with this crowd and she suddenly felt like a Christmas tree light with her red and yellow top. She scanned the side tables and there she was-golden hair glowing in the sun peeking through the front window. Jessica was half-way to the table when Angie looked up and flashed her bright smile zapping her with the eyes. Jesus! Jessica thought and almost stopped walking. But didn’t.

Angie was writing in a small hard backed notebook with a slender golden pen. How long had it been since she’d someone writing in a notebook and not picking at a phone? A bottle of imported mineral water stood open at the table with a small glass-no ice-floating a lemon wedge. “You made it.” she radiated.

“I had no choice did I?”

“Nope. None.” She closed the notebook and lay the pen atop it.

“What are you writing?”

“Documenting my day-if it’s not written down, it didn’t happen.”

“Oh, well about today…”

“Some things I don’t have to write down to remember…”

Jessica felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I know…but I feel I should apologize.”

“For what? Not to me. Don’t be silly-sit.” She nodded to the seat across from her. She seemed taller in her short skirt than she did in her scrubs. Her long coltish legs showed well as they slid beneath the table. She was no sooner seated when a waiter appeared at her elbow with a matching glass and lemon wedge.

“Thank you Bobby…” Angie said pleasantly. “Do you want a drink?”

“I can have what you’re having,” she said nodding at the water.

“Sure-that’s fine. But you should have a drink. A cocktail-something.” When Jessica hesitated, “I will if you will.” Angie watched her trying to decide. The girl seemed to be in a constant, if varying by degree, state of fluster. “Bombay and tonic”, said Angie prodding.

“OK. Same.” Said Jessica. “Sorry…I’m just…it’s early. I wasn’t sure…”

“It’s never the right time, sweetie. Always too late or too early. Best follow your own clock. And a drink would be good for you right now.”

“Why? What do you know?” Angie sipped lightly at her water without answering. “Am I getting fired? Dammit!-I knew it, all day I had a feeling…”

Angie poured water into the fresh glass and slid it across the table. Jessica took it.

“You’re not getting fired…”

“Do you know that? I…I love that job…and Dr. Greene. It was just a…..”

“Would you stop? You’re not getting fired.”

They went silent and leaned away as the waiter set the drinks down in front of them. “Thanks, Bobby”, said Angie as Jessica grabbed hers and swallowed thickly.

“Was Dr. Greene mad?”

“Hmmmmm….I’d say extremely pissed would be more accurate.”

“Ohhh…” She rubbed her temple again. “How am I not getting fired…?”

“Come on! You’re great at your job-they love you there. You just had a lapse. That’s all. I’m sure firing you never came up.” She paused and sipped at her drink. “Besides, there are other ways to punish naughty nurses.”

It took a beat or two before Jessica actually registered the words and her eyes widened. “What? What? No…”

Angie moved her head almost imperceptibly to the side-what passed for a shrug. Spankings around the clinic were few and far between. But they did happen. During her first week she had seen a nurse in the locker room with a bruised bottom. She had almost panicked and looked away quickly but could never settle in her mind how the sight had made her feel. Frightened maybe? Apprehensive? She did know that even now she could recall the dark spots and marks in perfect detail and she never saw that nurse again without imagining…

Then there was the time she almost died, when she barged into Dr. Greene’s office to find the receptionist-the one before Selena-laid out across the Doctor’s lap with her pants and panties bunched at her knees. Carrie, the receptionist, was a big redhead-not fat but substantial-with beautiful alabaster skin much of it on display just then. Dr. Greene looked up with flashing eyes and pointed a wicked hairbrush in her direction. “A knock might be nice, Nurse Raymond!”

“Yes, Ma’am-I’m sorry…”

“Doctor.” She hissed. “I’m not your home room teacher.”

“No Ma’am. DOCTOR, I mean….” She stopped speaking her eyes pulled to the glowing white hip where it bent across the doctor’s knee. Carrie’s hair hung as a thick curtain so she couldn’t see her face but noticed her fingers squeezing the carpet under her hands.

“Can I help you Nurse Raymond?”

“Uh…no Doctor. It…can wait. I’ll be back later…”

“Good idea…”

She slipped quickly back out into the hallway realizing that she’d been staring and that she’d been noticed staring. Standing outside the door she heard a muffled word or two then the unmistakable SWAT! of paddle on skin. She jumped then heard it again, then again, each time answered with a small grunt.

The hallway was oddly empty for the time of day and anyone passing by would hear what was happening. And, with the receptionist desk untended, it would be no great stretch to understand who it was happening to.

After the fifth or sixth smack from inside, Jessica heard a whimper then a soft coughing cry. She suddenly felt conspicuous outside the door and couldn’t decide if she were spying or standing sentry. Either way, she didn’t want to be noticed out here and skedaddled down the hall to hide in the locker room for fifteen minutes.

That’s where her mind was when Angie reached across the table and touched her hand. “Are you still here?” she asked.

Continued here The Norwegians-Part 2

The Negotiation

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She was happy for the interruption if it was going to be one. He let the phone ring four times-three more than was usual-before he picked it up. “Yes?” he snapped into the receiver still glaring at her. “Oh-fine. Yes, thank you Midge. Put him through.”

He sat back to take the call and she signaled that she would step outside while he was on the phone.

He covered the receiver with his meaty hand. “You stay right where you are Mrs. Williams. I’m far from finished with you. “

His tone and glare froze her and she creaked slowly back into the chair. God, she was back in the principal’s office in Junior High.

She hadn’t really poached his clients. Hell, as the company president they were all his clients….She tried to remember if she had told him she was taking the meeting. Did she tell Midge? She didn’t put it past that little snot to not tell him if she had. Maybe that was it! She had told Midge but she hadn’t passed the information along! She worked hard on this construct for a moment trying to convince herself it was the truth.

She wasn’t listening to his call and couldn’t tell you what it was about but heard it winding up with a smooth and genial “I’ll have my girl call and set it up…” As soon as he hung up his face changed and any geniality was gone.

“John, I…”

“Enough”, he said. “I’m going to beat your ass, Mrs. Williams.”

“Oh no you’re not….” She hated that phrase, it sounded like two boys getting ready to fight at a bar.

As he pushed away from his desk she couldn’t help noticing the size of his hands.

“John”, she said quickly-trying to tamp down the flurry of panic she began to feel…”I told Midge that I would be…”

He froze her with a stare. “Are you going to slip another lie into your already overflowing folder?”

“I…”

He had come out from behind the desk and was taking a seat on the sofa. “I can bring Midge in right now, and we can ask her. You want me to do that?”

“No John…but I…”

He sat. “Get over here.”

She stood automatically if unsteadily and moved toward him, her wheels still spinning. “When they came in John, the Baxters, they hadn’t mentioned that you had been…”

“Yes, yes…you’ve said.”

He reached up and took her wrist and again she noticed the size of his hands. Paws really. And he was wearing his ring! Would she feel that?

“Wait…” she said breathlessly as she settled over his lap. “Now, John….it’s not too late.” She felt her skirt lift.

“I believe it is, Mrs. Williams.”

“No, John…we can still…”

“Can still what Mrs. Williams”

“Be reasonable….”

“I think I’ve been reasonable”, he said as she felt her panties being yanked down.

“Hey!…We still could talk this out before this goes too far…”

“Mrs. Williams, your skirt is up, your panties are down and you are over my lap. What would you consider ‘too far’?”

“You haven’t spanked me yet John. We can still…”

He cut off her negotiation with a firm smack to her fulsome right cheek. She uttered a surprised “ahhh…” rather than the pained “ouch!” that he would have expected from a younger girl whose whole bottom might fit under his meaty hand like a turtle under its shell. Mrs. Williams’ mature backside was thick enough to absorb what he was going to give her one firm cheek at a time with a little give and very satisfying jiggle.

“You were saying Mrs. Williams?”

“No. I get it. I understand John. It was your meeting and there is no way I should have…OUCH!”

She was surprised by the second swat which landed exactly where the first one had. And it stung.

“John! I’m sorry. Truly. That really hurt John. Can’t we discuss…”

“Is Eric in town this week?” he asked about her husband.

“Ah…” she was nonplussed having to answer a questions about her husband while in this situation. “No”, she blurted. “He’s in New York all week. Why?”

“I was wondering how you’d explain your red bottom to him. But then, being married to you I’m sure he’d understand.”

She absorbed his comment in silence as he rolled up his sleeve.

“You are not going to stop are you…?”

“Yes. I plan to pause after forty smacks.”

“Forty!” she had assumed ten or twelve spanks and they would be done.

“I’m sorry. Did I say forty? I meant fifty.”

“John! I…”

“I’d be careful about saying anything else if I were you.”

“This is going to happen, isn’t it” she asked quietly.

“This IS happening…and don’t clench” he said, rudely poking her cheek.

She quickly bit her bottom lip tasting her lipstick. In the pregnant silence before the next spank she felt-for the first time-John’s legs beneath her and the strength of his left hand pushing down on her back. Her mind cleared at the reality.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay quiet”, she said softly.

“Midge!” he yelled at the closed door.

“Yes?” came the reply from the outer office-too quickly and too clearly to have come from her desk. The little bitch was listening at the door!

“Oh John, please don’t bring…”

“Go to lunch. Now!”

“Yessir!”

She heard feet shuffling across the plush carpeting immediately and the outer door slam. Of course Midge would respond quickly. Lying face down over her boss’ lap she thought of the girl’s small round bottom.

“There.” he said. “We’re alone now.”

“John if you would…”

A spank harder than the others stole her breath. “Now it’s sixty”, he said. “Anything else?”

Her eyes burned in frustration. She so wanted to tell him…

“Nothing?”

“No John.”

“Very well…”

Eyeing the pink smudges on Mrs. William’s otherwise perfectly ivory backside he raised his hand and let fly watching the flowing impact with satisfaction. She grunted and whispered a sad, little ouch, her eyes filling with the knowledge that he was right and she was wrong and she might have to admit it. Eventually. But right now, she was where she belonged.

After slamming the outer door, Midge tiptoed back to her post and stuck her ear against her boss’s door.