Monday, August 31, 2015

The Meeting -

Although you're seeing this today, I wrote this yesterday and yesterday was a beautiful Texas morning.  It rained a little the night before, so the air was fresh with the smell of wet grass and earth.  The sky had that golden glow that happens before the sun rises over the horizon. It was still cool I watched the geese truck up from the pond to get their morning ration of corn and thought about how beautiful life was and how grateful I am to be alive.

This last week of August was quite a week.  The other day, one of the neighbors recently acquired two horses and a colt. Well, he thought the pond would keep them in - guess what. They found they liked swimming and ended up on another neighbors property that is unfenced.  Afraid they'd wonder into the street, Ray and I managed to get a rope on them and lead them over here where there is fenced pasture.  It was nice seeing horses here again.  

If you haven't already heard, my latest book, The Doctor and Her Rancher came out on Saturday, and I was busy updating my blog layouts and such.  PK was sweet enough to give me a shout out on her New Beginnings blog yesterday, and Ronnie of Heart and Soul has a picture of my book up on her blog.  Thank you so much, ladies.  Promo is the bane of writing, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate the help.  For any of you who read the book, or any book for that matter, if you would write a review on the LSF site or Amazon, you would be doing me or us a tremendous favor.  

Now for this week's story.  I started writing it after breakfast yesterday morning.  It started getting a little lengthy, so I've decided to split it into two parts.  

The Meeting

Betty Jo Wyndham watched the scenery as it passed by.  This was her very first time in the area.  She had taken a cab from the airport and had no idea her destination was so far away.  As she watched the cab meter rise, she hoped she had enough money to pay the fare.

She was surprised when the cab turned onto a road that hugged the shoreline.  ‘Is this guy taking me on a wild ride to run up the fare’ was her thought. 

The cab slowed to a stop. “Here we are Miss.”  Betty Jo couldn’t believe it.  He stopped in front of a beachfront house.

“Are you sure?” 

“Quite sure, Miss.”

She noticed a sleek sports car in the driveway and once again asked the cab driver if he was sure of the address.  Assured that he was, she checked the slip of paper she holding the address she had been given.  It was the right address. 

She stepped out of the cab and was about to pay the driver when a tall, good looking man moved in beside her.  He paid the fare leaving Betty Jo floundering for words.  The cab drove off leaving Betty Jo standing there not sure what was happening.

He extended his hand to her.  “I’m Blake Parker, Ms. Wyndham.  I am the attorney representing your grandmother’s estate.”

Still trying to wrap her mind about the whole situation, she stood there speechless.

Two weeks earlier she had been contacted by the law firm that she was a named beneficiary in the estate of Gloria Houston Wyndham.  She had no idea who Gloria Houston Wyndham was, just that the last name was the same.  She contacted the lawyer to tell them they made a mistake.  They hadn’t.  They sent her paperwork to complete and an address and a plane ticket and said to call and give them the date she planned to arrive.

Betty Jo had been raised  by her single mother.  Her father was not part of her life.  Her mother told her she was the result of a summer fling that ended in tragedy.  Apparently, her parents were in love and wanted to marry but family pressure made them decide to elope. Unfortunately,  her father was killed in an automobile crash before the marriage could take place.  Her mother told her she had his name and that they loved each other, and that was all Betty Jo needed to know.

There were times it bothered her and she wished she had a daddy like all the other girls in school. However, her mother’s brother, Uncle Larry, was always around to step in when needed.  Between him and her mother’s parents, she grew, up a happy girl not wanting for much.Neither Uncle Larry or her mother ever married, so by the time she had graduated from college there was only her and her uncle.  

From time to time, she tried to get more information about her father and when her mother passed she hoped to find some hidden secrets locked away somewhere.  It wasn’t to be, so being contacted by an attorney that she was mentioned in the will of Gloria Houston Wyndham was a complete shock.

So here she was, in front of 32 Shady Pines Lane with Blake Parker.  He guided her inside and handed her a thick white envelope.

“The answers to many of your questions are in this envelope.  I assume you would like some time to digest its contents.  There’s food and such stocked in the fridge, feel free to partake if you wish.  I’ll leave you alone.  When you’re ready to talk, call me, and I’ll return.”  He handed her his card and left.

A bundle of nervous energy, she ripped open the envelope and dumped the contents on the table in front of her.  Out slipped various papers, photographs and a copy of her birth certificate.

It took her a while to wade through the documents.  She learned that Gloria Houston Wyndham was a woman of considerable wealth and her grandmother.  Joseph H. Wyndham, Betty Jo’s father, was her only son. There was a letter from her grandmother explaining everything. 

Betty Jo learned that her mother didn’t find out she was pregnant with her until after Joey was killed.  Knowing he was an only child, she went to his family to tell them, thinking it might assuage their grief to think a part of him was still here.  They didn’t see it that way and accused her of being a charlatan and only out for his money. Somewhere along the way, her grandmother found that she really had a granddaughter.  She contacted my mother to try and make amends, but my mother refused. Betty Jo understood why her mother never wanted to talk about her father’s family.

Her grandmother’s letter apologized and said she regretted her behavior every single day of her life.  Betty Jo put down the letter and began looking at the pictures.  There were some of her father as a baby and in his youth, but there were also photos of her father and mother taken during the summer of their love. Many of the pictures showed the house she was sitting in, in the background.  By the time she finished, there were tears coursing down her cheeks for the missed opportunities for everyone.

She didn’t realize how much time had passed until her phone rang, and she looked at the time.  It was Blake Parker.

“I’m calling to make sure everything is okay?”

“Yes, everything is fine.”  She told him she’d read her grandmother’s letter, and looked through the pictures and was feeling a little wistful.

“I understand that.  It’s getting late, do you want to tackle the rest in the morning.  I can come to pick you up and take you to a hotel?”

“I think I’d rather stay here.  Is that allowed?”

“Ms. Wyndham, it’s your house, you can do anything you want.”

Until that moment, she hadn’t realized that was the reason for meeting at this address. She was silent as she contemplated the fact that this beautiful beachfront property was actually hers.

“Ms. Wyndham, are you still there?”

“Yes, Mr. Parker.  I am.”

“Please call me Blake.  Well if you have any questions, you have my number.”

“I do have a question, Blake.  Would you consider ordering a pizza and sharing it with me?  I would like to sit out on the back deck of my house and watch the sunset over the water, and I would just as soon not do it alone?”  

“It would be my pleasure, Ms. Wyndham.  What kind of pizza do you prefer?”

“If we’re going to have dinner together, I think you should call me Betty Jo.  As for the pizza as long as it has lots of cheese and no pineapple or ham or any of the things that don’t belong on pizza, get what you like.”

“You’re limiting my choices, Betty Jo.”

“Then get two pizzas, one for you, and one for me.  I’m buying.”  He laughed.

She didn’t want to look at any more papers.  She decided to stroll around her new house. New to her anyway.  She deduced that this was probably the house where she was conceived based on the pictures.  It had been maintained but she doubted anything had changed since her parents were last here. Her father’s room still held his high school trophies and his college banner on the wall. The father she never knew lived in this room.She could almost picture him and them lying on the bed, planning their lives not knowing it wasn’t to be. Her body shuddered at the thought. Her mother’s high school graduation picture rested on the dresser with a scarf draped around it and a picture of the two of them, laughing and holding hands. She could almost sense the fun they had while here – two young people, off of school for the summer, enjoying the beach and each other.

She opened the closet to find a few items of clothing still hanging in the closet.  It was a little creepy.  She knew she would have to go through the things and decide what to and what not to keep, but not now.  For now, she closed the door behind her and walked downstairs to wait for Blake.

So come back next week for the second part.  I'm mean aren't I?  See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Spreading the Word

Just heard from my publisher that my newest book may well be available this weekend.  It's been a while since I've been here during the week, I guess you could say I've taken the summer off, but now it's back to the grindstone.

Here's the tentative new cover.

Dr. Lauren Bancroft is looking to make a difference, so she moves to a small town in Montana.  She doesn't want to set the world on fire but finds sparks with a certain Trace Connors that could well set her on fire.

I posted the same thing over at my other blog, so if you've already been there, sorry.  I'll keep you posted and see you later for more Aimless Ramblings.

Monday, August 24, 2015

Dying on the Vine

Will somebody please stop the clock.  Life is going by way too quickly and I can't seem to get a handle on it.  Everytime I turn around, it's Sunday and I have to come up with a story.  I'm busy every single day, doing who knows what, but the time still flies by like a leaf down a rippling stream. 

Ray and I did our usual movie thing this week.  He saw Mission Impossible and I saw Rikki and The Flash.  I enjoyed the movie - Meryl Streep is one fine actress.  Ray loved his exploding film too.  Speaking of movies, I finally got Ray to watch 50 Shades - he said it had more humor than he expected.  Wow, I could hardly stand his enthusiasm.

We went out to lunch a couple of times with friends and a barbecue at the lake one night. Sunday was a big barbecue at the lake and this time we were actually able to finally launch the boat.  The docks have reopened after the flooding rains of June.  Want to hear something funny, now that the lake has receded enough to enjoy boating there is a burn ban - so no outdoor firepits.  Mother Nature is having a good laugh.

Anyway, another week is upon us and summer is dwindling down.  I notice it's now dark at 8:30 instead of 9:00 and it's only going to continue.  I hate that part, I get sleepy too early.  Enough rambling on for now.

Okay, so it's a new story, but a theme many of us have lived and read about countless times.  There are only so many new things in this world and right now my mind can't think of another one, so 'same ole, same ole.'  Hope it's worth your time.

After thirty-five years of marriage, Marion and Dale's marriage was dying on the vine. Like many other couples, fixing the problem started with Marion’s online research. Their marriage needed something, a spark, a jolt- something.  Once they became empty nesters, it became stagnant.  The practice of each going off with different kids became each going off doing their own thing.  They lived together more as brother and sister, or roommates than marriage partners.  Marion read the same story over and over again.

She was determined to do something about it.  One night she sat down with Dale and laid her cards on the table.

“Dale, I don’t know about you, and that is part of the problem.  But I’m sick of living like this.  We are like two ships that pass in the night.  Do you want to continue this way or do something about it?”

“What do you want to change?”

“Us. Our lifestyle, something.  I’m bored, and boredom often leads to things you don’t want just to make a change, stir things up.  So before I get to that stage and go off and fix my boredom without you, I’d like to fix it with you.”

“I want you to fix it with me too.  I know we don’t have the same passion we used to have, but hell Marion, we’ve been together for more than half our lives.  There isn’t much about each other we don’t know.  How are we going to make things new?”

“I think we have to start with sex.  After all, our sex life is practically non-existent. It started going downhill when we had children, and the downward slide has not picked up.  Even when we do have sex, it’s the same ole, same ole.  Boring!!!  We practically mark a date on the calendar and pencil each other in, for God’s sake.”

“All well and good, but there were many times, I suggested something other than the norm, and you looked at me like I was a pervert.  After a while the boring, as you called it, was me just giving you what you wanted.”

“Well, I don’t want that any more.  I want different.”

“So if I decided to slam you down and take you from behind, you’d be agreeable?”

“Yes, and if I wasn’t, then make me change my mind.  Don’t just give up and walk away.”

“Can I get this in writing so when I do this, and you decide I’m just acting like a prick, I have proof when the cops come to arrest me?”

Marion laughed but she knew, deep down, he wasn’t far off the mark.  She could be a bitch, could be hell, she was a bitch.  It was one of the things she hated about herself, and if she was going to change, she needed help.

“Okay, you put down the words you think will keep you out of jail, and I’ll sign it.” She couldn’t stop smiling.


Days went by, and their routines went on as usual.  Marion was not looking forward to their typical night for sex.  As it approached, she became more and more agitated that Dale hadn’t done or said anything about their talk.  She became bitchier and bitchier as the day progressed and by bedtime, she was beyond furious.  “If he thinks I’m just going to continue to go along with the past program, he’s out of his ever loving mind.’  When she came out of the bathroom, Dale could see the steaming rolling off her.  He was sitting on the bed, hands behind his head, just waiting for the storm to explode.

Ordinarily, he would have pretended not to notice, rolled over and just went to sleep. Marion was right, their sex was boring, and it wasn’t something he much cared about anymore.  He too was anxious to step it up.  He couldn’t ever see himself cheating on her, but he did spend more time in the shower while thinking about what it could be like.  He had written up the Get Out of Jail note earlier in the week but decided to save it for their usual sex night.  He wanted it to be fresh in her mind that she agreed to what he had planned. So, after she went into the bathroom, he got out the paper and placed it on her pillow, a pen next to it. Now he just waited.

She didn’t disappoint.  She started her verbal barrage, and he merely pointed to her pillow.  She saw the paper and continued to spew her words until she picked it up and read what he had written.

  I, Marion Keller Wright, now give Dale Desmond Wright, the right to step up our sex life in any way he sees fit. I trust that he will not take me beyond my limits and will never cause me harm.

There was a place for the date and her signature.  While she was reading, he picked up the pen and handed it to her.  Blissful silence ensued as she read the note.  She took the pen and affixed her signature.  He calmly took the paper, folded it and put it in his nightstand drawer.  While he was doing this, she got into bed.

“Get out of bed and remove that nightgown.  From now on, you sleep as you came into this world.  Naked.”  Marion looked at him as if he was crazy, but his look told her he wasn’t kidding. 

“Now!!!” He said in a tone she hadn’t heard since the kids left.

She slid the nightgown over her head and slipped back into bed. 

“Are you comfortable?” He asked.  She nodded at him.  “Well, that’s about to change.”

He pulled her across his lap and whacked her bottom. The sound reverberated around the room and was punctuated by her loud “Ouch, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
His hand answered with another stinging swat to her backside. He was enjoying this. Marion wanted a change, well this is the new change.  He spanked her until her bottom was the loveliest shade of dark rose.  Vocally, she might be complaining, but he could see that she was as turned on as him.

When he finished the spanking, he gave her a few moments to compose herself before turning her over and burying his head into her sweet core.

Marion couldn’t believe what he was doing, but as her orgasm began to build and intensify, her body screamed out for release.  Her orgasm rolled over her in waves. When, at last of her orgasm subsided, he pulled her up and told her he wanted her on her tummy, feet on the floor.

She didn’t much care at this point; she was putty in his hands, and he was sculpting a new Marion.  He put his hands under her tummy, raising her bottom and adjusting her as he desired. Seconds later he was plunging his engorged member into her womanhood, using his hands to finger her to another mind-blowing orgasm.  Before he climaxed, he pulled out and spread his seed all over her still pinked bottom. 

They were both smiling.  And so began a new chapter in the life of Marion and Dale Wright.

Friday, August 21, 2015


DO YOU HAVE YOUR COPY YET!!!   This is the best Cassie yet.  Of course, I say that everytime PK writes another Cassie adventure.  I think I would like to live Cassie's life, and then again I think I enjoy reading about it rather than living her life (it's that damn ivory brush that Tom wields).

This is Sue. I know you didn’t come here looking for me, you’re looking for Cassie. There’s been a lot of that going on lately. It wasn’t quite twelve thirty when I headed back to her house. The first thing I saw as I pulled up was that the front door opened. That wasn’t right. They rarely used the front door and that it was standing opened—I felt pure horror as I rushed in calling Cassie’s name. Cassie’s purse with the contents spilled all over the floor was the first thing I saw. Then, I saw her phone, the glass shattered, on the floor across the room.
I hope to God to never in my life feel that kind of panic again. I had to find her, I was scared she was in the house hurt or worse and I bolted to her bedroom, it was empty. I couldn’t look further. I felt like I was drowning, the air around me seemed thick; I headed back to the front door when the word ‘crime scene’ came to mind. Reaching the front porch I felt dizzy and collapsed into a small chair there. Turning my head quickly I was sick in the yard. I had to find Cassie, I had to call 911, I had to call Tom, I had to call Steve, yet I couldn’t move. And I remember praying—please don’t let this be real.

Here is the blurb:

Cassie loves her life on the river with Tom and her friends. She feels Tom has her wrapped in a safe and protected cocoon of love. But her world is jarred when the phone calls begin. Cassie hesitates to tell Tom about them knowing he’ll over react and she will be the one under ‘house arrest’. But when the calls go from annoying to frightening she has no choice. Tom brings in the police to find out who is behind the harassment and make plans to keep Cassie safe, but he’s too late – Cassie is gone without a trace.

The police began an all out search, but there are few clues to go on. Will life on the river ever be the same again?

Get your copy now by clicking on either of the links below.  You won't be sorry.

Monday, August 17, 2015

When It Rains

Hello, happy Monday.  Another week is facing us and here the kids are starting to go back to school.  One of my grandsons actually started last Thursday.  It's still summer, isn't it? 
Ray's reconstructive surgery went well and we have no doctor visits scheduled this week. Thank God we are both healthy because I can't imagine how many doctor visits there would be if we weren't.

It's not rained here in I think the forecaster said forty-three days.  Of course, the forty-three days before that it did nothing but rain.  

Have a good week and maybe I'll get back here before next Monday - I hope to.

It had been raining for days, and the ground was beyond its saturation point.  Rivers and streams were running over their banks and evacuations from low-lying areas had been issued.  Most people complied with the evacuation notice, but there were always a few that hung back thinking they were immune to Mother Nature’s whims.  Sometimes they lucked out and other times others had to put their life on the line to accommodate their stupidity.

Ned Armstrong was a first responder in the small town of Dillard.  He was exhausted; he had been on shift for fourteen hours. He was about to go get some sleep when a call came in that there was a party stranded in their home, and the water was rising fast. He listened to the details as he drove to the location. ‘Hell, I know that address, that’s Ellie’s place. Why the hell is she still there, she knows better.

“I know the place. Put the chopper on alert.  If the creek overran its banks, it’s only a matter of minutes before it meets the lake, and that address is between the two.”

“The chopper is unavailable right now.  We’ll have to try another way,” the dispatcher told him.

“Do we have any boats in the area?”

“They’re all tied up right now.”

“Jesus,” Ned said.  “How the hell are we supposed to rescue someone from land when there is no damn land, only water?”  He said it more out of frustration than anything and really didn’t expect an answer.

 Most of the time Benson’s Creek was a trickle of water that ran behind Ellie’s place. Now it was a raging stream of water swallowing up everything in its path.  Ellie ran an animal sanctuary, and Ned figured that’s why she was still there.  She probably had waited until the last to find temporary homes for the animals, and now she was caught in the maelstrom.

Time wasn’t on their side. He remembered that Dillon Wells lived upstream from Ellie.  Dillon’s place was on higher ground and situated at the widest point of the peninsula. He told the dispatcher to try and reach him and see if he was still in his residence.  If so, he had a boat, and it was possible he could rescue Ellie.  Otherwise, unless he could come up with another solution, she’d just have to take her chances and wait for the chopper to become available.

Ellie Sharpton was a throwback to the hippy days.  She was a free spirit, who lived life one day at a time.  The house once belonged to her grandparents who used it as a summer place.  It had seen better days fifty years ago, but it suited Ellie.  She was okay living without the finer things of life.  The necessities suited her just fine.  She raised chickens, grew her own vegetables and herbs, selling or bartering what she couldn’t use for things she could.

Ned had gone to school with Ellie.  To his knowledge, she had never hooked up with anyone locally.   After high school, she left the area for a few years, and when she returned she moved into the life, she now lived.  Ned’s sister kept in touch with her, but when Molly moved away he hadn’t kept up with Ellie except for occasionally seeing her in the village or when the vet clinic had an animal adoption event.  He knew she had a couple of run-ins with Ted Forrest, the animal control.  He said she was the most stubborn woman on the face of the earth and that he wanted to take her over his knee and give her a good paddling on several occasions.

He was still en route to getting as close as he could when he heard from the dispatcher that  Dillon was on it.  “Keep me posted,”  he told the dispatcher. 


About two hours later he learned that Dillon had rescued Ellie along with three chickens a dog and a cat and was taking them to a temporary shelter at the school in Jasper.  Ned knew the shelter wouldn’t allow the animals, and if he could get there before them, he’d take them to his place. He had a few animals of his own, and he could always make room for a few homeless chickens and a dog and a cat for a few days.   

When he arrived, he saw Ellie sitting under a lean-to with a dog beside her, a cat on her lap and a crate of the chickens beside her.  She looked placid and serene considering what she had been through. Although soaked to the bone, she sat quietly amid the chaos that surrounded her. 

“Hi, Ellie.”

“Hello, Ned.  I understand you’re the one that suggested Dillon might be able to help me.  Thanks.  I had almost all the animals out, but it got away from me.”

“I figured it was something like that.  Want to load them up and come to my place until things get sorted out.”

“You’re a godsend, Ned Armstrong. Mollie always said you were a good guy.”

“Nice to know my sister likes me.”  He gave her a big smile.  He helped her load the crate into the back of his pick-up and opened the back for the dog.  She held the cat close to her as he opened the door for her to climb in the front.

It took them about thirty minutes to get to his place, and the conversation was stilted.  Ellie wasn’t very forthcoming, and Ned wasn’t the best conversationalist in the world.
He drove into the barnyard, stopped and hauled the crate with the chickens inside.

“I can set up the chickens in a separate pen in the coop, and the dog and cat can come in the house.  Mandy might not like it, but she’ll be okay. Is that okay with you?”

“More than okay.  I had visions of spending the night under a canopy.”

He drove over to the house and pulled up to the back door to avoid any more rain pelting down on them.  They were both soaked, and the dampness was beginning to seep into Ned’s bones and he couldn’t wait for a hot shower and a shot of tequila.

He opened the door to the mud room, and Mandy came to greet him.  She sniffed at Ellie’s dog and the cat who was still in Ellie’s arms hissed at him. 

“Mandy meet Maxie.  She’s homeless at the moment.  Will you be the sweet girl I know you to be and make her welcome.”  Mandy looked at him like she knew what he was saying and backed off and went back to the kitchen. Ellie couldn’t believe how he talked to Mandy, it was exactly how she related to her animals.   Ned grabbed a towel from the shelf to dry off Maxie and handed one to Ellie for the cat. 

“Will your cat behave herself around Mandy if we let her loose?”

“If she’s doesn’t behave, I’ll spank her.”  She laughed 

“You’re the one that needs the spanking.  You waited too damn long.  Do you know you could have drowned today? Not only that but your foolishness put other lives in danger."

He hadn’t heard the whole story when he responded to the call.  Apparently, she had made several trips back and forth and the last time she drove right through a barricade to get back to her house to get Maxie, the cat, and her chickens.

“But I didn’t, and no one was hurt.  What did you all expect me to do,  abandon my animals?  I could never do that.”

“Did it ever occur to you to ask for help?”

“No, because I would have gotten a load of grief from Ted.”

 “Well, the next time, if there is a next time, call someone for help." She could hear the annoyance and fear in his voice and though she didn't regret her decision, but now that the adrenalin rush was over, she did regret putting others in danger.  "The bathroom is down the hall and you can hit the shower first.  There are towels in the linen closet.  Right now I’m having a shot of tequila to warm me up on the inside. It’s been a hell of a shift.”

“Pour one for me too, will ya?”

He poured two shots and Ellie immediately downed one.  “Where’s yours?” she asked when she picked up the second glass.

“You surprise me, girl.”

“We’re even because you surprised me too Ned.”

She emptied the second shotglass and headed off down the hall to the bathroom.  She wasn’t kidding when she said Ned Armstrong surprised her.  She’d always had a crush on him but except that she was his sister’s friend, she didn’t think he even knew she existed back then.  He was still a hottie and she was surprised someone hadn’t snagged him by now.

While Ellie was in the shower, Ned ruminated about Ellie.  There was something about her that intrigued him.  She wasn’t overly pretty or tall or curvy, so it had to be her inner beauty.  He wanted to ask her how she came back to live here in Dillard and why she chose her current lifestyle.  He also wanted to know how she could down two shots of tequila without batting an eyelash and if she was going to live to regret the decision.  He realized he wanted to see if he could penetrate that calm exterior. 

He could still hear the shower running, so he knew it was safe to open the door and put down the clothes he had found.  He could see her through the semi-transparent shower curtain and had the unbelievable urge to push it aside and climb in with her. He could see the contours of her body as she raised her arms to push back her hair and he felt his body react.

“Do you want to join me or do you only want to stand there and watch?”  He didn’t realize she was aware of his presence and he was embarrassed by his voyeurism. He couldn’t make his voice work and he turned to leave the room.

“You didn’t strike me as a coward, Ned.”  He heard her say.  He stopped and started to undress as he answered.  “I’m not,” and stepped into the shower.

He pushed her against the shower wall and told her to keep her hands on the wall as his hands caressed her torso.  Her body trembled as he moved his rough hands down her legs and up her inner thighs avoiding the cleft.  Instead his hands cupped her breasts, teasing the nipples into hard points and flicking them until she reached for him to stop.  He slapped her ass hard.  “I told you hands on the wall.”  She put her hands back on the wall and stuck out her ass and gave it a wiggle.

“Oh, so you like that, do you,” he said as he slapped her ass again. She moaned her pleasure and said “I want that spanking you said I deserved.” 

He wasn’t sure he could bear the pleasure, but he complied, bringing his hand down on each cheek again and again.  He spanked her until her ass was the prettiest shade of red.

He turned her around and went down on his knees. His tongue laved her labia - her moan reverberated around the bathroom. When her spasms ceased, he heard her say “Get up, it’s my turn to kneel.” 

It was his turn to moan.

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.

Sunday, August 16, 2015


Our dear friend Cat had this on her FB page, I just had to share.  It is so me.

I'm working on a story for tomorrow, so plan on stopping by.  Until then see you later on Aimless Ramblings.

Monday, August 10, 2015

Facing the Past

Happy Monday All.  Hope it was a good weekend.  They go by so dang fast; it's scary.  Still hotter than hades here.  Ray and I joke that it's getting us ready to AZ summers.  If that's the case, Mother Nature is doing a bang up job.

Today's story is a little different.  It may be the first chapter in a new book or just today's story.  I would like your opinions.  I have to warn you, though; there is no spanking so far so you may not want to read but hell, it's for free, so I don't feel too bad.  LOL

Give me your thoughts, please.

Daniel Lodestone walked into the establishment, his eyes searching for a familiar face. He had been gone a long time and wasn’t sure if there was anyone left who knew him back before all the hoopla.  He didn’t want to be recognized, so he purposely downplayed his appearance. He hoped that sporting a three-day growth of beard, clipped hair with all highlights removed, glasses instead of contacts, without his usual garb and minus his entourage, would go a long way toward making him unrecognizable except to those who knew him well. His eyes locked onto his target – his search was over.  Now it was up to him to make amends.

She felt eyes boring into her.  People were always staring, so at first it didn’t phase her.  It wasn’t until she had that creepy feeling in the back of her head that she paid attention. It can’t possibly be him, not after all this time was her first thought.  His eyes never wavered as she went about her business.  When she couldn’t ignore him any longer, she felt her shoulders slouch, and her reserve disappear – it was him, and she wasn’t sure what to do.  Time was up; he was coming toward her.

Callie Morgan grew up with Daniel Lodestone in Bensonville. Daniel’s father employed Callie’s mother as a housekeeper.  Callie often accompanied her mother to work and so the two kids spent a lot of time together. It was fine until Ben Lodestone found them with each other in Daniel’s bedroom.  He told Lila Morgan not to bring Callie around anymore, and he forbid Daniel to spend any more time with Callie.  He had bigger plans for his son than to end up with the housekeeper’s daughter. 

The forbidden fruit was all the sweeter and Daniel, and Callie continued to see each other secretly.  It wasn’t that difficult; Ben wasn’t the most attentive of fathers, and for a long-time Daniel had him snowed.  Ben Lodestone assumed Daniel obeyed his edict until Lila Morgan came to him to tell him that Callie was pregnant, and Daniel was the father. Furious, he immediately shipped Daniel off to military school and arranged an abortion for Callie and paid Lila for her silence.  He cut all ties with Bensonville and relocated to California.

Daniel’s efforts to stay in touch with Callie failed.  His letters were returned unopened and after a while; he quit trying.  Years passed. Much to his father’s displeasure, Daniel became the lead singer of a famous rock band, with every sordid detail of his life chronicled in magazines and tabloids in and out of this country.  Some of it was true, but most were stories made up by the band’s publicist.  His life continued in this fashion until that fateful day when the band’s tour bus was involved in a fatal accident that took the lives of two of his band mates, and the drivers of both vehicles.  Daniel (known as Stoney) survived, but barely.  His injuries included two broken legs, damage to his pancreas and liver, as well as head trauma and numerous deep facial cuts. He was hospitalized for months, and in rehab for months after that. During that time, he took stock of his life and made life-altering resolutions.  He granted an in-depth interview to a reporter he trusted to lay out his plans for the future.  What he learned from that reporter changed those plans.

The trip to Bensonville was the first step - what happened here would determine his future.

“Hello, Callie,” he said unsure of himself.

“What are you doing here?”  Her manner was defensive.

“I think we have some things to discuss, don’t you?”

“I can’t imagine what they would be.”
“I think you can.”

From behind her, he heard someone yell to her that customers were waiting, and their food was getting cold.

“I have to get back to work.”

He took a seat at an empty booth.  “Fine, I’ll just sit here and wait.”

“I’ll get you a menu,” she told him as she walked away.  She was still his Callie.   She may have grown taller and some of those angles had turned into womanly curves, but she still had that long strawberry-blond hair, pulled back in a pony tail, with a smattering of freckles across her nose and those cornflower blue eyes that could see right through him.  He knew from the reporter she had never married and that Lila had bought the diner in which he now sat a couple of years after he left town. 

When she brought him the menu, he managed to ask why she never answered his letters.

“I never received any letters.” He could tell by her stunned expression, she was telling the truth. 

“Well, someone returned them to me unopened.”  Her face flushed as she realized it must have been her mother’s doing. “I’ve kept them if you want proof.”
“Daniel, that’s all water under the bridge and I see no reason to dig up old dirt.”

“I have good reason to believe there is.”  Her face flushed again.  The bell over the door jingled and a nine-year old boy walked in.  Daniel lost his breath, it was the image of him at that age. So, the reporter was right.  He yelled, “Hi Mom” as he walked through the swinging doors to the kitchen.  Callie spun on her heels and ran to the kitchen as if there were demons on her tail.

While he sat in the booth awaiting her return he thought about all the time lost with his son and how difficult her life must have been.  Dealing with pregnancy at sixteen in a small town could not have been easy.  Even with today’s relaxed standards, there were always small minded righteous people in a town the size of Bensonville that could make life difficult for her and his son.

Why hadn’t she contacted him?  Surely, once he became famous, she could have found him.  Then he thought back to those returned letters.  She didn’t realize he cared and what his father did, didn’t stop his feelings for her. Hell, did my father know she was pregnant, and that’s why he sent me away and left Bensonville for good?  Knowing his father, he realized that was the case.  Damn him and his righteousness and thinking he could make everything and everyone bend to his will.

The next thing he knew, Lila Morgan was standing next to him.  “Did you come here to cause trouble?”

“Hello, Mrs. Morgan.  No, I came because I learned I probably had a son.  After seeing that boy walk in here a while ago, I don’t think you could possibly deny that he is my flesh and blood.”

“And if he is, do you plan on upsetting him by announcing you’re his father and then taking off the way you and your father did when he found out Callie was pregnant.”

“I knew it, that sonofabitch.  I never knew Callie was pregnant.  I wrote to her for a year after I left and every letter was returned to me unopened.”

“Your father arranged for Callie to have an abortion.  He paid me to keep silent about the whole thing.  I was just doing what I thought was best for everybody.”

“You mean best for you and my father.”  He was getting angry and it wasn’t all Lila’s fault, but she was the one standing in front of him at the moment.

He calmed himself down as faces started to turn their way.  This wasn’t how he planned this meeting to go.

“Lila, I’m not going to let this go. I’ll give you time but I intend to be a father to my son and I will take the steps necessary to make that happen.”  He handed Lila a card and told him to have Callie call him. 


Callie did call him and arranged to meet him that evening.  . They agreed to meet in his hotel room where they were assured a degree of privacy.  In a small town, there was always someone around to eavesdrop and Daniel was trying to keep his identity under wraps, at least for the short term.

She was nervous, not sure how she felt about Daniel; it had been too many years of hoping to hear from him and being disappointed. Afraid he would fight her on having custody of their son; he had the wherewithal to take her to court.  When she knocked at the door to his room, he beckoned her in.  He placed his index finger to his lips and rolled his eyes upward and told her to listen. It became very apparent some intense lovemaking was happening in the room above.  They could hear what sounded like a headboard banging against the wall and the cries of a woman in the throes of orgasm. Callie smiled at Daniel and the ice was broken, their connection was back.  They began to share what their lives were like in the intervening years between then and now. 

“How do you see this going forward?” He asked her.

“I think that depends on you.  Do you plan to pursue your musical career?  Is that even a possibility?”

“I’ve talked with Jeff and Brett and they’re not sure they want to restart?  Hell, I’m not sure if I want to restart again, pursue a solo career, or just live an entirely different life.  Right about now, a whole different life is very appealing to me, especially if it includes you and my son.  Is there a chance for us?  I know what we had when we were younger and I would like to build on that.  I haven’t had anything even close to that since, notwithstanding what you may have read.”

“If you plan to be a father in more than name only, then you can definitely count on being in Danny’s life, I won’t stop you.  If you just want to be a cardboard cutout of a father, I will fight you tooth and nail.  He’s better off just the way it is now than be continually disappointed because you’re never around.  As for us, I guess it depends on how you answer the first question.”

“Let me ask you this, does life with you and Danny have to be here in Bensonville?”

“Until I know we’re permanent, the answer is yes.  I’m not about to uproot Danny until then.”

“I understand that.”

“I want to be present when he learns about me.  I want to try and explain why I haven’t been around until now.”

“I’ll have to think about that.”


In the end, Callie granted Daniel’s request.  Their first meeting took place in a nearby park.  Seated on a park bench he spied Danny and Callie walking toward him.  They were holding hands and when Danny saw him, he looked to Callie and Daniel realized he knew, he didn’t need to be told.  It was a sweet moment, Daniel allowed Danny to make the first move.  Daniel stood as Danny came forward and extended his hand.  Daniel shook his hand and then enveloped him in a hug.  “Sorry, young man, I need more than a handshake.” Daniel was trembling, he didn’t think he’d ever been so nervous in his entire life.

“You’re my dad, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am and I’m so sorry this is the first time I’m meeting you. I assure you, from this day forward I will be available to you every single day, in one way or another.” Tears rolled down his face and Callie realized she too had tears in her eyes.

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.

Saturday, August 8, 2015

We're Back

We're back. Thanks for all the terrific anniversary wishes. We had a great time; it was good to get away and reconnect.  We went to the Texas Hill Country, specifically an area known as Wine Road, Rte. 290,  the #2 Wine Destination in America. Need I say more.  Actually, yes, there's not only wineries but breweries too.

It's an area settled by German immigrants back during the mid-19th century and filled with historical markers and museums. We stayed at a great hotel, nestled along a bubbling brook, with lots of trees and greenery and very peaceful.  We ate till we were stuffed, and the good news is I only gained a half a pound.

We found a great place.  It's a ranch and winery, and I feel as if I belong.  Ray wanted to buy me a tee shirt, but I didn't think that was necessary.  I have my own advertisement.

Fat Ass Ranch and Winery

The only drawback was the heat, but it was the coolest place around, so I'm not complaining.  We just did the outside stuff in the early morning and evening after the sun went down.  The rest of the time we spent either napping or lazing in the pool.

We even tried out one of my gifts from PK, and you know what - it was deadly, and it reinforces what I always say - I hate wood - give me leather any day.

Speaking of leather - typical me.  I saw this great red purse in one of the leather shops that I managed to talk myself out of buying.  That is until we got home.  I called the shop and asked if they still had it since it was on sale.  Of course, they did, and that justified it was meant to be mine - I just have to pay the extra 8.00 for the shipping.  Such a deal.  lol

That's it for now - See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.

Monday, August 3, 2015


Good Day everybody - First week of August and the dog days are really here.  This is our anniversary week and Ray and I are taking off for a few days.  Hope everyone enjoyed their weekend and make the week ahead memorable.

Karen and William Johnson had been doing a heart-wrenching chore for the last several weeks.  Bill’s mother passed away two months ago, and the task of cleaning out her house and getting it ready for sale had fallen to me, her only son.   

Estelle Johnson wasn’t a hoarder, but a lifetime of living in one house your entire life creates a mountain of possessions.  Possessions from not only my mother but, my grandmother and great grandmother too.   This house was built by my great-grandfather as a wedding present to my great-grandmother, and so it passed to their only daughter, Grandma Emma upon their passing.  Not only the title passed, but the accumulations of their lifetime together went along too.  Grandma Emma and her husband George resided in the house too and then the title passed to my mother, Estelle.  My mom met the love of her life in high school.  Before he went off to serve his country in WWII, she married him and became pregnant with me.  I never met my father; he was shot down over the Pacific in 1944, the year of my birth. 

My mother and I lived in that house with my grandmother and grandfather.  After my grandfather had died, there were the three of us until my mom met and married John Tyler. Since there was already a ready-made family and house, John moved in.   They never had any children, so I remained the sole heir to the house.

Now here I was going through and clearing out four generations of accumulations, a daunting yet eye-opening task.  The attic was a treasure trove of family history and Karen, and I were enjoying ourselves sifting through the sands of time, so to speak. There were many interesting things, but the biggest surprise of all was that each of my grandmothers were in marriages that included domestic discipline.  We found diaries from my great grandmother and grandmother that described how they had been in trouble and spanked by their husbands for their naughty behavior.  I didn’t know my great-grandmother, but my Grandma Emma was a strong, outspoken woman. I tried to picture my Grandfather George taking her over his knee for a paddling as described in the diary, I couldn’t help but laugh. Grandpa was a tall skinny man and was outweighed by my grandmother by at least fifty pounds.   According to the diary, she was spanked quite often in their early years or marriage but less and less as the years progressed. As we got further and further along in the attic, we actually found a paddle my grandfather had handcrafted and figured this was the weapon he used on my grandmother’s backside and maybe even once or twice on my mother’s when she was a girl.  I don’t remember ever being paddled, but I do remember get switched a time or two by my grandmother.

Karen and I put the paddle aside for future use.  Early in our relationship, I spanked Karen.  Karen, like me, was an only child, but unlike me, was spoiled rotten.  When she didn’t get her way, it was not above her to throw a tantrum.  One day, I wasn’t in the mood to deal with her shenanigans, and I just took her over my knee and spanked the daylights out of her fine ass.  She was shocked but no more so than I and after that whenever she started one of those temper tantrums I would remind her that she would wind up over my knee if she continued.  After that initial spanking, Karen was spanked for many things other than temper tantrums.  Overspending the budget, speeding tickets, and just plain naughtiness would earn her a trip over my knee.  A good spanking cleared the air, and Karen was usually on her best behavior for a day or two after the incident.

Once we had children, privacy became an issue.  More often than not, I would swat her behind at the time it was necessary.  Sometimes I’d tell the children that Mommy was being naughty, but mostly it was just ignored.  Since they often received bottom pats (sometimes harder than others) they thought nothing of it – it was what mom and dad did.

Frequently, as time and privacy allowed, Karen was spanked for no reason other than it gave us both pleasure.  A trip over my knee usually ensured there was hot sex afterward and now that the kids were grown and gone we indulged more and more.

I don’t remember my mother ever keeping a diary, and I don’t think I would have felt comfortable reading it even if she did.  Her marriage to John Tyler was more a marriage of companionship than great passion.  They were both in their late thirties when they wed.  I was already in my junior year of high school and too busy with my life to think about them, but looking back I’m glad they had each other.  My grandmother died the following year and with me off to college the next year my mom would have been alone if not for John.  He was a good man, and they were totally suited to each other.

He was a wonderful husband to my mother and a terrific grandfather to my children.  We all mourned his passing when he died suddenly at sixty-eight years old.  He died as he lived, quietly.  He went into the living room to sit in his favorite chair after dinner to read the paper.  My mother heard him call her name, and when she went to him, he was already gone. 

After that, my mother immersed herself in her clubs and charitable activities.  She traveled extensively and visited all the places on her bucket list.  When she passed this year, she had lived a full, happy life, and while I would miss her terribly, I had some beautiful mementos and memories I could carry in my heart and head.

Karen and I were down to the last corner in the attic and were rejoicing in finally being done.  I opened a box to find reels of old movies.  I hadn’t ever recalled seeing any of them, and there wasn’t any projector anywhere, so I bundled them together and would look for a place that could transfer them to disc. No matter what was on them, they had to be of the family, or something important to the family, so whatever it cost would be worth it to me and someday maybe to our grandchildren.

When Karen and I closed up the house that night, we knew it was really for the last time.  The realty sign would go up in the morning, and she assured us it would sell quickly. It was priced right and in a wonderful old neighborhood of older homes that were in high demand these days.  We had hoped that one of our children would be interested, but their lives had taken them far and wide from here, so some other family would be moving in and making new memories.  We were both a little saddened and teary eyed.  Karen held up the paddle.

“Let’s make our own lasting memory in and of this house.”  

She didn’t have to ask twice. I took her to the kitchen, pulled out one of the chairs and over my knee she went.  After a couple of warm-up  hand swats, I took the paddle in my hand and did what my grandfather did. I spanked my wife’s bottom.  I don’t know if my grandfather was watching or not, but I definitely felt motivated knowing he had handcrafted the paddle with love. Now it was definitely a family tradition.  I planned on leaving it to my son, along with his great grandmother’s diary.

When my wife was well and truly spanked, she told me she planned on leaving an addendum to that diary.   I hoped I was gone by then.


A couple of weeks later I received a call from the photo lab.  The reels were in surprisingly good shape and they were able to transfer all to a disc. It was ready for pick-up.  That night, Karen and I set up in front of the television and I saw the first live pictures of my mom and dad together.  Watching the footage, I could see my dad’s love of my mom.  She was captured, mostly unawares, and always lovely.  One of the last pictures was taken by someone else, possibly my grandfather.  It was a plane, flying low overhead, with the wings waving.  I knew it was my dad, flying over the house, on his way to his assignment, my mom was waving at him.  It was their last goodbye.


*This story, with much author’s poetic license, was inspired by a snippet on yesterday’s Sunday Morning program.  See you later for Aimless Ramblings.