Monday, July 14, 2014

The Best Lemonade Ever

The last thing he heard as he walked out the door was, ‘to get the right kind of baloney, not the kind  bought the last time’.

He thought about that and wondered why he was the one doing the shopping.  It was Saturday, his day off, and he’s out doing the grocery shopping.  She’s home all week, why isn’t she doing the shopping?   He thought about all the household chores he currently did along with keeping the outside maintained.  Granted she fixed him breakfast every morning and had dinner made most nights, except now that it was summer, he found himself doing more of that too, because he was responsible for the barbecue.  Why this morning he even had to get a clean towel out of the dryer because the linen closet was empty. He supposed he should be grateful that she had transferred them from the washer after he reminded her that he had started the load.  

His neighbor Bill yelled good morning interrupting his thoughts.  He got in the car, turned on some tunes and headed to the market.  Except, instead of turning right, he turned left. The further he drove, the more rural it became and he found himself enjoying the music, the scenery and the solitude.  Not that he didn’t have solitude.  Hell, Janice was always on the damn computer and half the time he wasn’t even sure if she knew or cared whether he was there or not.  Years back he heard about people spending all their time in chat rooms and he wondered if that was the case with Janice.  Maybe she had an on line lover – well, if she does, he's probably getting more verbal sex than he was physical sex.

He kept driving until he saw a turn-off with a small hand-lettered sign advertising homemade lemonade for sale.  Curiosity made him turn down what amounted to more of a lane, than a road.  At the end, there was a small run-down shack.  As he approached the shack, the door opened and a grizzled old man and a young boy of about seven, came out and immediately walked over to the market stand that stood a few yards away.

“Good Day, Son.” The old man said.  The young boy, tipped his head as if repeating the salutation.

“Good Day to you also.  It’s a beautiful day for a drive and I saw your sign. I sure would love a glass of your lemonade.” Hank told them.

The young boy took a glass from under the shelf,  filled it with ice and then hefted the pitcher of lemonade from the cooler.  He filled the glass to the brim and handed it over the counter along with a spoon and a napkin.  He pointed his head toward the sugar container.  Hank realized the boy did not speak, not knowing whether he was just shy, or it was an affliction.  Hank thanked the boy and reached into his pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill.  The boy shook his head no, the old man said he didn’t have any change, and Hank said it didn’t matter.  The boy then took the pitcher from the cooler and put it on the counter next to Hank.  Hank got the message that he could have as many glasses as he wanted.  He nodded his thanks, the boy acknowledged with another shake of his head and walked off.

There were a small table and chairs under the shade of an oak that had to be at least 100 years old judging by its height and girth.  Hank took his glass and went to sit down.  He was surprised when the old man, grabbed the pitcher and followed him to the table.

“Mind if I sit with you son,” the old man asked.

“Not at all,”  Hank told him.

After a few moments of silence, the old man spoke up.

“My name is Jake and I’ve been around a long time.  You look as if you have a lot of your mind.  Do you want to talk about it?"

Extending his hand, he said, “Nice to meet you Jake.  My name is Hank, and this is the best damn glass of lemonade I’ve had since I was a boy.”

“Yeah, my wife taught me how to make it and Hannah told me she learned it from her mother.  The trick is to make a simple syrup and then stir it into the lemon juice and water, instead of just spooning in sugar.  There’s something about the melting of the sugar first.  Don’t know why, just know it always tastes better.  Of course, some lemons are better than others, too.  Some are bitter, and some have their own sweetness – just like life’s lessons.

Hank shook his head in acknowledgement and wondered just what Jake was trying to tell him.

“So do you and Hannah live here full-time?” Hank asked.

“Hannah passed on, but Will and I live in the old farm house just beyond the trees over there. As you might have guessed, Will doesn’t speak.  It’s not a physical thing, he just saw some horrible things when he was a youngster and hasn’t spoken since.  The people in the know think that when his mind is ready to accept what he saw, he will find his voice. Until then, he and I live here together, it's easier on him.  He’s a smart boy and I give him his lessons, now that Hannah’s gone.  We were both school teachers once upon a time and the state checks up on him on a regular basis, so he’s getting a good education right here at home.”

Hank didn’t know what to say so he shook his head.  The silence crept back in between them.  A few moments later, the old man rose.  “Well, I’ll leave you to your lemonade.”

When Jake moved a few steps away, Hank said.  “Jake, I would like to talk.  I hate to burden you with my tale of woe but it would be good to get if off my chest.”

“Hank, there is no tale of woe that isn’t best shared with someone else.”

“I don’t even remember when it started, I think it was sometime after she quit work, but my wife and I are living separate lives together.  She treats me as if I was the hired help most of the time.  I don’t know what happened to her, or to us, I just know I’m not happy and I don’t think she is either,” Hank told him

“Have you shared your feelings?” Jake asked.

“I’ve tried but she doesn’t seem to be interested in me or anything I have to say.”

“Sometimes, when words aren’t working, other methods are necessary.”

“I have no idea what other methods you are talking about, but I am willing to try anything if it will help our situation.”

“I’m an old-fashioned guy, and this is an old-fashioned idea, but sometimes just because an idea or method is old – doesn’t mean it won’t work.  When I married Hannah, her daddy took me aside on our wedding day and told me that if ever Hannah gave me a hard time and wouldn’t listen to reason, I should take her over my knee, take down her drawers and spank her bare bottom until it was good and red.  Then he handed me a wooden paddle he had crafted.”

Hank looked at Jake as if he had two heads.

“I know son; I know exactly what you’re thinking.  At the time, I felt the same way.  However, one day, about four years into our marriage, Hannah did something that we argued about for days on end.  She refused to listen to my reasoning and did the exact same thing again two weeks later.  I heard her daddy’s words.  That evening, when our little one was asleep, I called her into the bedroom.  I’ll never forget the look on her face when she saw that paddle in my hand.  I told her to get undressed and get over my knee.  It was not pretty but eventually she was over my knee getting her bottom reddened.  She hooted and hollered telling me I was killing her but, sometime during that spanking I noticed a lot more than a red bottom, if you know what I mean.  That was only the first of many spankings, some good, some bad, but she was a lot more reasonable and listened to my words after that first time.”

“That’s quite a story Jake but I can’t imagine Janice ever putting up with that.”

“What do you have to lose?  I suggest you try talking to her again.  If that doesn’t work, tell her what you plan to do and then follow through.”

“I could end up in jail.”

“I don’t believe a spanking would land you in jail.  Once she realizes that if the police are involved, everyone will know,  she’ll come to her senses.  Mind you, it’s just a spanking on her bottom, no hitting anywhere else.  I know it’s not consentual but it worked for me and for hundreds of people before and after me.”

Hank finished his lemonade and told Jake thanks for the advice.

“I have to start home and I still need to get to the grocery store.”  They shook hands.

“Stop by again and let me know how things worked out.” Jake said.   Hank shook his head in agreement.

Hank thought about Jake’s words on the drive home.  He was raised with the belief you never struck a woman.  He believed that, however, was spanking the same as a slap across the face?  After all, how many times had he given her a slap on her bottom when they were first married?  Did he consider that striking a woman?  The answer was no, maybe Jake had something there.  He’s right.  What do I have to lose?  He made up his mind, he would talk to Janice tonight.

He whipped through the grocery store and just for spite bought the kind of baloney she didn’t like. If she starts complaining, I’m laying down the law.  Listen to yourself, he heard the voice in his head saying; you're sounding like an actor in an old movie.

He carried the groceries into the kitchen and sure enough she was sitting at her computer. She jumped when he told her he was home, so engrossed she hadn’t even heard him come in. 

“Are you going to put away the groceries?”

“Can’t you do it?” he heard her say.

“Yes, I can but I went to the store, the least you could do is put them away.”  He heard her huff and puff, and mumble something under her breath as she rose from the chair and came into the kitchen.

When she came across the baloney, he saw the look of disgust on her face.

“You bought the wrong damn kind once again. Didn’t I tell you not to buy that kind again.”  Her words were filled with disdain.

“Yes, you did tell me, and I bought that kind on purpose.  When I do something you don't like, it is the only time I get any attention from you, and it is going to stop.”

“You have my attention now,” she told him.

“Yes, and you better listen to what I have to say.  We are in trouble Janice.  I’m not sure you even know that, but we are.  You sit at that computer, hour after hour, day after day. You hardly do anything around here, and I’m tried of working all day and picking up after you on nights and weekends.”

“I fix you breakfast and dinner. I’m not a slave, you know.”

“And I am?” he responded.  She looked at him as if he was a piece of lint on a blue suit.

“There are certain things I expect you to change. For starters, from this day forward, you’re taking back the grocery shopping chore. If you don’t do it, then neither will I.  Two, you will at least acknowledge me when I come home, I don’t think that’s asking too much; and, three you will do the house and your own laundry, if you don’t want to do mine, I’ll do it.

There are other things too, but we’ll start with those.”

“And if I don’t.”

“Unless there’s a very good reason, I am going to do something I never thought I would do.  I am going to turn you over my knee and spank you.  If you want to have me arrested for doing so, be my guest.  I can just image the looks on people’s faces when they learn you were spanked like a naughty child.”

“I never”

“Maybe not, but just try me.  Now, unless you have done so since I left, there’s still laundry in the dryer to be folded and another load waiting.  Furthermore, I stripped the bed this morning, and it needs to be remade. Have you done either of those things?”

“No,” she answered haughtily.

“Then I suggest you get to them now or else.”

She rolled her eyes and gave him the one-finger  salute.  He didn’t hesitate.  He pulled out a kitchen chair, took her arm and pulled her down over his lap.  She was fighting him every step of the way. He merely put his arm over her back and crossed his leg over hers until she was locked in his grasp.  He used his other hand to lift her skirt and pull her panties into the crack of her lovely ass.  This isn’t what I expected, he thought to himself as he felt his cock harden, focus on the matter on hand.  She was still yelling at him and calling him every name she could think of when the first smack landed.  He didn’t hold back and delivered smack after smack as he watched her bottom turn from white to pink to rose color.  He stopped a few seconds to admire his handiwork and remembered what Jake had told him about Hannah’s arousal. He was surprised to see Janice’s wetness; so I’m not the only one aroused by this spanking, he thought to himself.  He resumed the spanking and watched as his hand would flatten her flesh and then bounce back, over and over.  Once her ass was a lovely shade of red and his hand probably hurt as much as her bottom, he stopped.  He held her in place a few moments, before releasing her. He braced himself because he wasn’t sure what to expect – she could get up swinging for all he knew.

He was surprised when she stood, put her hands back and rubbed her sore behind.  She pulled her panties out of her crack and lowered her skirt.  Still unsure what to do, Hank hugged her.  Surprisingly, she hugged him back and then went off to the laundry room.  He watched in amazement as she began taking the clothes out of the dryer.

I’ll be damned, he thought to himself, Jake was right.  He decided he would take Janice on his next visit so she could meet Jake and have a glass of Hannah’s lemonade and maybe Jake would tell her a story too.