Monday, January 29, 2018

Monday is Story Day

Good Day All - As usual it's been busy around here.  Yesterday, was our Annual Thank You Luncheon for our volunteers in our little community.  It was fun and because I'm a volunteer for other things, I didn't have to do much of the work, just reap the benefits.

We had a slight cold spell here, two days only but it got pretty cold at night so we brought in some of our more less tolerant plants and thank goodness we did.  On another note, though our daffodils are blooming - I love seeing them.  I hope the iris I planted the year before last bloom this year - last year they didn't.  Does anyone have any gardening tips on these beautiful delicate flowers?  I could use the help.

I love that the days are getting a little longer, well the daylight hours. You know what I mean. Have you noticed?  

Here's the continuation of the story of the last few weeks. Recap here. Wasn't sure how far I wanted to take it, so I backed off a little.  I think it may be done, what do you think?

I looked around the room and felt totally out of place.  There were little groups of people gathered around the room and I tried to decide which group looked the most welcoming.  Since the only people we knew were the host and hostess and they were missing, I found a group that had mostly women, figuring they would be the most open.  It wasn’t until I got closer that I realized they were all smokers.  I really did hate the smell of smoke but a whiff told me it wasn’t just tobacco smoke I was smelling.  As I got closer, I realized they were all passing around the cigarette which, obviously wasn’t a cigarette at all.  I believe the term back then was ‘doobie’. When I was in college and where we lived in Washington,  alcohol was the drug of choice, not marijuana.  I didn’t want to seem like a prude so I joined the group anyway and was immediately handed the ‘joint.’   Unsure of what to do, I was urged to just take it and inhale.  I did and have never been a smoker thought I was going to die.  I began coughing up a storm.  Laughter ensued among the group as I choked on that damn smoke.  One of the women offered me some liquid and I took a large gulp until I realized it was not water that was being offered but her drink – it must have been pure vodka – and I swore I thought I might explode.  I wasn’t sure which was worse, the coughing fits from the joint or the large swig of vodka.  I’m quite sure my face was red and not only from embarrassment.  It was then that Rod appeared and put his arm around my shoulder.

“What’s wrong, honey?  Are you alright?”  All I could do was shake my head.   He excused us from the group and took me outside for a breath of air.

“Honey, I think this is a far different group of people than we are used to.  Maybe we should just excuse ourselves and go on home.”  I nodded in agreement and we went back inside to say our goodbyes.

The next morning, neither Rod nor I spoke about the previous evening.  I think we were both in a state of disbelief.  It was such a different world. Obviously, the world had changed since we lived here.  I wondered if everyone lived this way now or did we just happen upon a neighborhood of like-minded people and if so, I wasn’t sure I wanted to get too comfortable. After all, we had not only our daughter to consider but also Rod’s position of responsibility and my possible return to teaching.
Later that same day, the hostess of the previous evening showed up on my doorstep.  Unsure of what to say or do, I held open the door and offered her a cup of coffee.  When we sat down, she started to explain the previous evening. 

“I’m sorry about last night.  I get so wound up when I’m having a party that I got a little tipsy beforehand to settle me down.  My husband has a different way of settling me down and when we came back to the party I noticed you and Rod were no longer around.  Was everything okay?’
I’m quite sure she was aware of my discomfort as I squirmed around in the chair and hemmed and hawed before answering.

“Oh, I can see you’re a little upset.  Don’t be.  I realize not everyone is comfortable with some of the things that went on.  I usually spend a little more time with guests and try to let them know what they can expect.  Not everyone indulges in the same way and I apologize for your discomfort.  I can assure you not all parties are the same.”

“Some of the things were definitely a surprise. We have a daughter and I don’t want her to think that her parents are complicit in anything illegal and dope is definitely illegal.”

“It’s not hard drugs, only marijuana.  It’s readily available and here in California, there is not much worry about law enforcement bothering anyone for use.”

“Still, I don’t mean to be stuffy or unfriendly, but I would appreciate it if you not include us in future parties where we might encounter this sort of thing.  We have too much at stake with my husband’s job and me trying to get hired by the school board.”

“I understand.  My husband was not pleased with me when he found out you had left.  He asked if I had warned you in advance and when I told him no, I was in trouble.  He told me this morning to come here and apologize and that he will deal with me when he gets home.  My husband may be progressive in some ways but in others, he’s a throwback.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m embarrassed to share this, but you might as well know, it’s common knowledge around here.  My husband still believes in being the head of household and takes me to task when I overstep the boundaries he has set.”

“Oh, I think I know what you’re saying without actually saying it.”

“You do.”

“Yes, I do.  My husband is old-fashioned that way too.”

“Really,”  Right then I knew we had formed a lasting bond.  Shortly thereafter, Lindsay came home from school and Rhonda left.

I couldn’t wait to tell Rod about the conversation.  Later that evening, when Lindsey was in bed, I told him about my visit with Rhonda.  After I finished telling the story, Rod invited me to join him in our sound-proofed bedroom.  There I was lectured about the evils of going along with the crowd and how I was never to accept another party invitation without knowing, in advance, what will be happening at that party.  Just to make sure I understood what he was saying, he removed his belt and welted my bare bottom into further understanding.

I wondered if Rhonda was getting the same lecture and if she'd be available for a sit down the next day?

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.

Monday, January 22, 2018

Monday's Tale

Sorry this is late posting.  I had this niggly feeling last night to make sure it was going to come up, but did I listen.  Of course not..  Instead of scheduled it was still listed as draft so ...  

Well, another week went by and I didn't get back here after Monday's story.  I'm so glad you still keep coming back. The weather this past week has been frightful in some places, how about where you are? I'm just grateful to live where the climes don't change all that much, except when it's 110 outside, but at least I don't have to shovel that.  

This past week I went to see The Post - the movie with Tom Hanks and Meryl Streep.  It was fantastic.  So much of it I remembered from having lived through those times but it's still so pertinent to what's going on with 45 and his 'fake' news.  If you have a chance, don't miss it.

For this week, I've decided to continue last week's story. From the looks of it, I will be continuing it again as soon as I know where it's going.  lol.  Hope you enjoy and I'm open to any ideas.

Those Were The Days (Part one here)

When Lindsey was six years old, I convinced Rod I should go back to work.  With Lindsey in school all day I was at my wit’s end.  He was not too keen on the idea, but I kept after him until he finally gave in.  I think his hand got tired – my butt had hardened over the years.  Luckily, I was able to find a position in the same district in which Lindsey went to school making our schedules mesh.  Our life was great.  Rod loved his job, Lindsey liked school and I was happy to be back teaching. 

As Lindsey grew we had solved our dilemma of where I would get my butt spanked.  For the first few years, a closed bedroom door did the trick.  However, an inquisitive and wily little girl found out how to unlock the door and after a couple of close calls, Rod built a playhouse in the backyard for Lindsey.  He equipped it so as to accommodate grown-ups when the need arose. Little did Lindsey know the secret of her playhouse until one night after she was in bed, Rod led me to the playhouse for a spanking he felt I deserved.  I was less than quiet about the whole thing, both before and during when suddenly the door flew open and there stood two policemen with guns drawn telling us not to move.  Apparently, our neighbor had heard the commotion and reported the disturbance.  There I was, bare-assed over my husband’s knee.  I could hear the one policemen snicker.  Rod quickly helped me up and pulled up my jeans as we stood there in the beam of the flashlights.

“Are you okay, Ma’am?”

“Yes,” I stuttered.

“Do you want to make a complaint?”


It wasn’t bad enough that the policemen were there, but my neighbor too came over to check.  Not just one neighbor, but neighbors from across the street.  It was embarrassing especially when they asked the police if everything was okay and they replied that it would be better if they asked Rod and I.  Naturally, they asked Rod.  After stuttering and stopping, he said something about sexual play-acting. 

The neighbor who called in the complaint apologized. “It didn’t sound like play-acting to me, it sounded real.”

Now I knew that he had heard the whole damn thing.  How was I ever going to be able to show my face?  I was so angry with Rod, I stomped my way into the house and locked the door, leaving him to spend the night in the garage.  Once I calmed down, I came downstairs, surprised to see Rod sleeping on the couch.  I’d forgotten about the spare key in the garage. I covered him with the throw and started back upstairs.

“I’m not sleeping,” I heard him say.

“Obviously, neither am I.  I’m sorry for locking you out.”

“It didn’t work,” and he chuckled.

“I noticed.  I’m just so embarrassed.”

“Honey, believe me, no one is going to bring it up.  Forget about it.”

“I’ll tell you one thing, we are never using that playhouse again.  We’ll have to find another place.”

“How about California?”

“What did you just say?"

“I said California.”

“Isn’t that a little far to go for a spanking?” It was my turn to chuckle.

“Not if we’re living there.”

“As Ricky says, ‘you have some ‘splaining to do.’

“The promotion I just received is back to SoCal, you interested in going with me.”

I jumped over the ottoman to get to him.  “You're kidding, right.  Of course, I’m going with you. When do we leave?”’

“The job starts in two weeks.  Will you be ready?”

I was quiet as I processed this information.  His new job started in two weeks - should Lindsey and I follow right away or finish out the semester in Washington.  As much as I hated the idea of separation, I knew it would be best. 

“Honey, as much as I’d love to say yes, I think it best if you go and we follow after the end of this first semester.  After all, we don’t even have a place to live and I remember how busy you were when we came here, I hardly saw you for the first couple of weeks..”

“You’re right, but I wanted you to be part of the decision.  I remember the last time.”

I laughed.  Yeah, I remember it too and rubbed my bottom.   It didn’t even tingle anymore which surprised me.    I joined him on the couch and when things got a little too heated, we moved to the bedroom.  Suddenly, my embarrassment at being found out was not important.  Once I found out we were moving to California, I was too busy to contemplate what the neighbors might or might not say.  

The one thing about Rod’s job, his company took care of a lot of the relocation issues.  Rod was ensconced in one of those Spring Hill Marriott Suites and I’d stay with him on my house hunting trips down to California. A major criterion for me was a large soundproof area.  It was fun explaining that to a realtor –  slide little smiles followed my explanation. Finally, I was able to find a house in Manhattan Beach - an old California style ranch with lots of charm. The master suite was at one end while the other bedrooms occupied the opposite end.  Not only that but the former owner worked nights so he had our end of the home soundproofed so his sleeping wouldn’t create problems for the rest of the family.  How considerate of him and such a blessing for us.  Haha   We tested it out the first night we spent in the house, Lindsey never heard a thing.

By the end of May, we were settled, Rod loved his job and Lindsey was happy in her new school and environment.  I applied to be a substitute teacher at the local school district and had been accepted for the new school year.

In June, we were invited to a neighborhood party.  We were excited to meet new people and looked forward to increasing our social circle.  The party was at a house on the next block and as we approached the house we could hear the frivolity.  We were told a pool and a hot tub was available if we wanted to indulge and obviously, there were people already using the pool.  The host met us at the door and immediately handed us a drink and began introducing us the others.  Most of the couples were about our age and seemed willing to accept us into their group.  Conversations were a little racier than in Washington, but after all, this was California and life was different here.  It wasn’t until I glanced out at the pool to see a woman, completely naked, step out of the pool.  A completely naked man was right on her heels.

I was stunned.  I hoped someone would hand them a towel or something.   No one else seemed to notice.    I was looking for Rod when I noticed the host slap the hostess on the behind, not once but three times, and propel her out of the room.  She giggled the whole time.  What had we gotten ourselves into?

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.

Monday, January 15, 2018

Those Were the Days

At last, here's a new story.  It was painful to write - painful in the sense that it was like pulling teeth.  I don't know how I'm ever going to get out another book if my writing muse doesn't soon return. I think life is just a little too busy right now, but everything in its own time.

Hope everyone is settling into this new year.  They come entirely too fast to suit me anymore.  The older I get the faster they go.  I guess that's life and I'm not complaining.  I have a good life with good health, a great husband that loves me despite my added gray hair, wrinkles and pounds and friends that stand by me, no matter what.  Isn't that so friends?  What more could a girl want?  Okay, add in winning the lotto and living by the beach and I'd have everything - lalalalala.

The year was 1954 and I was a young girl of twenty-two;  recently graduated from the local teacher’s college and ready to take on the world. I applied for any teaching jobs anywhere that was far from home and in places that had a population larger than 35,000 people.  At the time, that seemed a huge number of people to me coming from Appleton, population 10,000 during the summer season.

When I received an offer from the local high school and turned it down, my parents were aghast.  I had no desire to be the local schoolmarm, I had much bigger plans for myself, California was always a dream of mine.  Warm weather, beaches, palm trees, movie studios what was not to like.  So I decided to spend my graduation money on a trip to California.  A girl traveling alone at the time was radical and looked at suspicious but I was not to be deterred.  I boarded a train to Los Angeles and was on my way.

I was not alone, after the war, women had increasingly joined the white collar workforce and when traveling needed a safe, comfortable place to stay. The YWCA was that place. The local coffee shop was a great place to meet and exchange information with other women.  I learned several school districts in Orange County were looking for teachers.  The area was growing by leaps and bounds due to families settling there after the war and the new amusement park that was being built by Walt Disney.  After a couple of calls, I had two interviews lined up and three weeks later was offered a teaching position.

California then wasn’t the California of latter years  - apartments were very affordable and I was able to find a converted garage apartment, two blocks from the beach, that fit very well into my measly budget.  School was only a couple of blocks away so I didn’t have to get a car right away.  It was utopia.

Jobs in the booming aircraft industry were plentiful and many men who had been stationed at the local bases during the war came back to live in this golden state. There was no shortage of available young men.  Rodney Allen Morgan was one of them.  He came from a farm family in the midwest and had been stationed at the Army base in Santa Ana during the war.  After discharge and a short visit back to his hometown, he migrated back to California.  He snagged a job at McDonnell Douglas, was going to school nights on the GI Bill and playing guitar in a band on weekends for some extra money.

One Friday night after the start of the school year, a group of us younger teachers got together and ventured up to Redondo Beach for a night of clubbing. Back in those days, we all had morals clauses in our employment contracts and it was best not to play to close to home.  Not that we planned on doing anything wrong but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Anyway, that’s the night I met Rod.  His band was playing at the club and during one of the breaks two of the members came over to our table and introduced themselves.  They stayed and visited with us for the rest of their break. At the end of the next set, the men visited at another table.  I didn’t think anything more about it but during their last set, a bar server delivered a note to me.  Surprised,  I opened it and found a note from Rod, giving me his full name and a number where he could be reached.   I looked up and saw him staring at me.  I folded the note and put it in my pocket.  Shortly thereafter we left and he watched us as we walked out the door.  I had no intention of using that phone number, back in those days, girls just didn’t call guys.

A couple of weeks later I had a surprise.  I came out of school and there waiting beside a blue convertible was Rod.  He called out to me.  Shocked to see him I walked over and he promptly took me in his arms and gave me one of those kisses you see in movies.  When I recovered, I slapped his face and heard clapping in the background.  Apparently, everyone had seen the interchange and were either applauding my behavior or his.  He spoke first as I gathered my wits.

“Hello gorgeous.  You didn’t use the number."

“I’m not in the habit of calling men.  How did you find me?”

“Do you know how many schools there are in this district?  I’ve been visiting each one and today I finally succeeded in tracking you down.”


“Because you’re the girl I’m going to marry.”

Once again I was speechless.  There was still a crowd milling around us – obviously waiting for something else to happen.  He suggested I get in the car and go somewhere we could talk.

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s broad daylight; we could go down to the beach and take a walk along the ocean.  Would that be okay?”

I didn’t see the harm in that so I got into the car and heard the crowd applauding again.   Rod smiled at the crowd and took a short little bow before getting into the driver’s side. 
I think that’s when I first fell in love with Rod.  That one little gesture.

He was not extraordinarily handsome  - tall, with chestnut brown hair that seems to defy a comb, piercing blue eyes that actually twinkled, a nose that had been broken at one time, and a smile that lit up his face.  But that wasn’t what attracted me – it was something in the way he walked, talked and viewed life. I knew he was a keeper.  I knew he was right; I was the girl he was going to marry.

It wasn’t as fairy tale as that though.  There were several bumps along the way.  Despite all his charm, he could be as stubborn as a mule.  There were many clashes regarding how I did things and how he thought things should be done.  The biggest issue was that he wanted to get married immediately and wanted me to quit my job.  There was no way that was going to happen.  I tried reasoning with him that I should continue to work at least until he was finished with school.  He balked at that so I wouldn’t agree to marry him until he was finished with school. I received my first spanking from him over that very argument.  Spanking in those days wasn’t the taboo it came to be later on.  Most men spanked, at least most men where he and I came from.   How we managed to stay together those two years was nothing short of a miracle and pure love.  It was hard – we didn’t see each other much.  He continued to play gigs with the band and between his schedule and mine and the thirty-five miles between us, there wasn’t a lot of time to spend together. 

The day after he got his degree we went down to the courthouse and got married. I had saved most of my salary over the past two years and had a nice little nest egg.  That, combined with the wedding money from our parents, gave us not only the down payment but the wherewithal to purchase furniture and a car for me.  The ‘bump’ over the car was a doozy and I almost called off the wedding.  I planned on keeping my job – there was no reason not to until I became pregnant.  Rod didn’t see it that way and we fought and fought until one day, he put down his foot and threatened me with a spanking every day until I came to my senses.    Three days later, instead of a hand spanking over his knee, he used his clothes brush.  That was the day I told him in a not very nice way to forget it – I wasn’t going to marry him and he could keep the damn house and find someone else to marry.

His laughter at my tirade was what brought me back to my senses.  We compromised, I got to keep my job for another year but would quit even if I wasn’t pregnant by the end of the next school year.  Sounded fair to me.

As it turned out, I needn’t have worried,  I would have had to quit anyway because Rod received a job offer in another state.  We were moving to Washington – I can’t say I was the happiest girl on the planet when he told me.  I was happy for him, it was what he had been working toward but I felt I should have, at least, had a say.  But, he accepted without my input. Eventually, I always came to his way of thinking.  Most times, he convinced me while I was over his knee as he pounded acquiescence into my bottom 

Now it’s 1961.  Our daughter Lindsay was born in June and I’m a stay at home mom.  I’m coping along with a little help from Rod’s large hands.  He’s added a couple of weapons to his arsenal over the years that he takes out on occasion but for the most part, I’m spanked, bare bottom, over his knee.  I wonder how this is going to work out once Lindsay gets older.  Like everything else, I guess we’ll find our way and I wouldn't change a thing.

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.

Monday, January 8, 2018

A Matter of Trust

Good Morning.  I know this is being posted later than usual and it is a retread but there is a reason.  Being pretty busy last week, I saved Sunday for writing a post and new story.  Life had a different plan - I was down and out yesterday and slept most of the day.  Ergo, a retread this am.  Feeling more like myself and I'll try not to procrastinate this week and get a story penned earlier.

Me and the boys walked in the door after practice.  My husband, Jake was supposed to be home but, as usual, he wasn’t.  Jake was a Police Detective and to say his hours were erratic would be putting it mildly.  We live in the suburbs but Jake works in the city – a relatively large metropolitan area and usually does shift work.  When he’s on a case, sixteen hours a shift is not unheard of.  He’s exhausted by the time he does get home.  The boys and I will get a hello kiss and a cursory how are things going if we happen to be around, and then he’s off to bed. Most times, he’ll set an alarm that allows him enough time to grab a bite to eat, get showered, dressed and back into the city for his next shift.
He’s an absent dad and husband but it is something I knew about him when we married, so to complain that he led me astray would be a colossal lie.  And, as you can imagine, being the family of a police detective, lying is not allowed – ever.

I’m Wendy Thomas and I want you to know right up front that I love my husband.  I don’t love his work or his obsession with work, but it is what it is.  I’ve learned to live with it and I’ve tried to pass that onto the boys.  They’re not always accepting of the fact that their dad doesn’t attend baseball games, or school plays or even parent-teacher conferences.  Don’t get me wrong, they love him and he loves them it’s only that he’s not around much. 

Because of that, if there is a problem, they tend to come to me for help.  I’m there.  Besides, at six feet tall and one hundred ninety pounds of pure muscle, Jake can be intimidating, But oh, how handsome he is in his ‘blues’ which h e doesn’t get to wear often.  Anyway, I digress. Through the years, he has developed this “Don’t Fuck With Me”  manner in his voice, language, and overall demeanor. It comes in handy when dealing with criminals.   He’ll usually leave that at the door, but sometimes it runs over into his private life.  He can appear unapproachable, especially to young boys, so the boys have developed the habit of loving their dad from afar.

Not too long ago, Bobby, our oldest who is 13, came home with a black eye. Apparently, one of the boys in his class is a bully and intimidates by size and manner.  Bobby is afraid of him and so far has put up with his bullying, however, that day he decided to fight back – thus the black eye.  I wanted to go to the principal, the boys’ parents, etc. etc. etc.  All things adults think solves the problem.  It doesn’t – usually it just sets up the victim to receive more bullying. 

Jack came home as I was helping Bobby with his homework.  Needless to say, Jack immediately noticed Bobby’s black eye and asked if there was a problem.  I remained silent but Bobby said he got hit with a hockey stick at practice.  No stranger to black eyes or hits with a hockey stick, Jack got this funny look on his face, knowing that wasn’t the truth.  He let it go for the moment and Bobby picked up his homework and went to his room.

I wasn’t so lucky.  I was fixing Jack something to eat when he started giving me the third degree.  I know why he’s so successful in getting confessions. He continued to grill me and after hemming and hawing but telling no outright lies, I finally broke.  I knew the consequences for lying and was told that after the boys were in bed, we had a date in the basement. 

Once the cat was out of the bag, I told him the whole story including how I planned to handle it. He said he’d handle the problem and not to worry he wouldn’t  be taking Bobby out to the garage to give him a boxing lesson and tell him to go punch the bully in the mouth.  I laughed because he knew me so well –  that’s exactly how I thought he would handle it.

After he had dinner, he went up to Bobby’s room.  He never let on that I had spilled the beans but was able to get Bobby to open up to him.  He gave him a possible solution and made Bobby promise that he would never divulge to me the details of the solution.

After he had dealt with Bobby’s problem, he devoted his attention to me.  I was lectured on how lying was so disrespectful and that he was hurt that I didn’t trust him enough to tell him the problem.  He asked how the boys were going to learn to trust him if I couldn’t.  I was crying before the first spank fell.  Because it was true, I was keeping him from his sons.  My behavior gave the boys the impression that he was the bully in our house and only I was to be trusted to solve problems.

I don’t know if that spanking was any worse than any of the others he had given me, I only know I felt it more than any other spanking.  I was an inconsolable mess when he let me up and sat me on his knee.  My bottom was throbbing and hurt like hell but not as much as my heart.  I begged his forgiveness for hurting him.  This big burly man who could intimidate criminals with one look was whispering tender words in my ear and telling me there was nothing to forgive.  Could I forgive myself – I had been undermining him for years?

“ I deserve a much harder spanking.”

  “Maybe next time,” he answered.

 I promised myself that although I knew I would be spanked again, it would never be for lying to him or because of undermining him to our boys.

Whatever solution Jack gave to Bobby worked.  I heard them talking about it the next day and Bobby said it worked like a charm.  Bobby never told me anything other than he had followed his Dad’s solution and there was no longer a problem with the bully.

I noticed a new closeness between Bobby and Jack after that and whatever remaining marks I sported on my behind were well worth the price.

See you later for more Aimless Rambling.

Friday, January 5, 2018

Holidays Past


Hope everyone had as great holidays as us.  I know it's pretty cold in some part of this country, but here in Arizona, we are enjoying above average temperatures.  I'm not knocking it, it's been wonderful.

The holidays are officially over in our household. We had a wonderful time in California with our daughter, son-in-law and grandsons.  The boys have grown into fine young people who are now taller than me. We ate too much, drank more than normal, walked on the beach, laughed and thoroughly enjoyed being with each other. At least I think so The visit was entirely too short, but then they always are.

We came home from California to news that my brother Jeff and his SO, Joy was coming for New Years. It's been too long since we've last been together and it was a blast. My brother is a hoot - he loves to have FUN and fun we had. We ate, ate, ate, bar hopped and laughed our way through five days. I need a vacation from our vacation.

They left this morning and just like my daughter said when we left her place, the house seems empty. The laundry, however, is piled up but today the Christmas decorations went bye bye so all that is left is memories.

At least they're happy memories.  See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.

Monday, January 1, 2018

Happy New Year

Happy New Year All.  Hope 2018 brings you health, happiness and prosperity.

Thank you to everyone who has made my life and those I love better by being there.  

Marilyn was getting ready for her date.  She had been dating Brandon since last summer and things were getting serious between them.  Actually, she was a little disappointed that he hadn’t given her a ring for Christmas.  Now she was hoping for New Year’s Eve.  He made dinner reservations at Capricio Grill and the NYE party.  Rather than worrying about too much to drink on a night the police are out in force, he booked a room for the night so they could party hearty and be safe. 

She had splurged and bought a completely new outfit and lingerie for the date.  Her black silk dress was understated elegance and designed by Marc Richmond.  Of course, she could never have afforded the dress brand new but the upscale resale boutique she found made it affordable.  It looked as if it were made especially for her -  the lines fit her figure perfectly.  Add to that the ‘fuck me’ sandals along with the sexy bra, undies, garter belt and hose and her NYE get up had set her budget back to June.  Her thought was that it better be worth it.  She wanted to begin the new year with one of Brandon’s good girl spankings with his ring on her finger.

Brandon was a catch and she wanted him reeled in for good.  He was gorgeous and her heart palpitated just looking at him.  Six feet of toned muscles, wavy black hair, olive complexion and hooded steel grey eyes that melted any female within five feet of his presence.  She knew because it had taken her several dates before she even felt comfortable being with him; the stares and come on’s from other women made her a little uncomfortable.  Once, he finally convinced her that she was the one he wanted to be with things got easier.  Of course, he had to take her over his knee and soundly spank her bottom before she was convinced.  That spanking took their relationship to a whole new level.

She had never experienced that kind of intimacy before.  Sure, she had been with other men but when Brandon spanked her because she didn’t feel she was good enough for him, she realized he understood her in a whole new way.  It was when she started to fall in love with him – before that it was lust.

He was a throwback to an earlier time; he had old world manners in a modern new world.  So different from anyone else she had ever dated, she felt like a princess when she was with Brandon. He treated her well, opening car doors, pulling out chairs, standing when she entered a room, always making her feel special.  Perhaps it was his background, his parents had immigrated to this country when they were very young and raised their children with lots of love and respect for themselves and others. Rarely did an unkind word or foul language pass his lips and he expected the same of her – something she learned over his knee.  

Spanking was something he learned from his parents too. He and his siblings knew that their father spanked their mother. It was only one of the holdovers from an earlier time that took her by surprise.  Brandon laid down the ground rules as to what he expected from her when they first started getting serious.

Marilyn and Brandon engaged in lots of erotic spanking in their lovemaking.  She loved being taken over his knee. He would beckon her to him, crooking his finger and motioning her to his lap.  His voice took on a certain timbre when he called her name and her knees would turn to jelly.  He was such a sensual man.  He would scoop her onto his lap and start by caressing her back and bottom. Soft feathery touches along her neck and her breasts as his hot breath whispered into her ear telling her what he planned to do.   Those words always sent shivers to her core, knowing that mixture of pleasure and pain as his hand spanked her cheeks to a rosy red glow. He would alter the cadence of the spanks between soft and hard, right to left, or concentrate on one cheek, and then the other and her body would rise to meet that punishing hand.  Loving the heat he created in her tush and her core, she would be squirming away on his lap, her body begging for release, but he still continued the torture..  Those long tapered fingers teased her sex, dipping them into her folds, and then into her tight little rosebud, bringing her to the brink and then retreating to return to spanking her bottom.  More often than not, her first orgasm occurred while she was still across his lap.  His rock hard erection would grow as he pleasured her and with each little moan she uttered, his cock twitched. When he finally took her he would call out her name as he spilled his seed. She liked knowing she made him as crazy as he made her.

However, when he spanked her for correction, it was an entirely different story.  His hand hardened and the spanks came fast and furious with no breaks, no rubbing, so soft words; just a constant barrage of spanks that would take her breath away – no pleasure, just pain. Afterward, as she stood in the corner, with her red cheeks glowing and bared to him, he would tell her to think about why she earned her chastisement and make her ask for forgiveness.  If she refused, which she had done a time or two in the beginning of their relationship, back over his knee she would go for another round of spanking and then back to the corner until she asked for forgiveness.

She was ready when the doorbell rang.  Opening the door, she stood back so he could see her dress.

“Wow, you look fabulous.  Are you sure you want to go out with me?”

“You know you are the only man for me.”

“Can I reach in and kiss you without mussing you up?”

She giggled.  “You better.”

She grabbed her coat and he helped her into it, picked up her overnight bag, and ushered her out the door. 

 “You do look absolutely beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you.  I wanted tonight to be special.”

“When I’m with you, it is always special,” he told her.

They checked into the hotel and went into dinner.  The ambiance was romantic and the food wonderful.  She was too excited to eat though.  Every time he made a move, she wondered if this was when he was going to ask that all important question.  By the time dinner was over and he hadn’t asked, she found herself getting a little irritated.

“Would you like to go up to the room for a bit before we head to the party?”

She nodded yes and he walked her toward the elevator. As he placed his hand on her back, she felt the heat of it and she detected a slight tremble.  Maybe he’s going to ask me in our room, she thought to herself.  

He didn’t and she was disappointed and felt that irritation creeping back in. It was her own expectations that had her thinking he was going to pop the question.  He hadn’t given her any clues but she was ready and would be sorely disappointed if it didn’t happen tonight.

The party was a mob scene filled with revelers eagerly waiting for the clock to strike twelve.  The band was loud and dancing turned into a contact sport.  As the minutes inched toward midnight she felt her temperature rise and her patience begin to ebb. She was angry at herself because there was no way he could possibly propose in this raucous setting and tried getting herself in check.  As midnight struck, they kissed and he whispered that he loved her and was so glad she was in his life.  Her expectations rose again – this had to be the lead in to his proposal.

Shortly after midnight, he suggested they call it a night. Marilyn was more than ready, this had to be it, she thought to herself.  He held her close and she cuddled into him as the elevator delivered them to their floor.  In the room, he removed his jacket, loosened his tie, rolled up his shirt sleeves and called her to him.  He slipped down the shoulder straps and unzipped the dress, sliding it down her torso.  It pooled at her feet and she stepped out of it.  Standing there, in her sexy lingerie, he asked her to turn around – so he could see all of her.  As she turned back into his arms, his hand undid her bra and unleashed her breasts, he kissed each one and then undid her garter belt and thumbed her panties down.  He pushed her into the chair, pulled off her panties, removed her shoes and slowly rolled down each stocking.  She was trembling as he carried her over to the bed and lay her down.  He removed his clothes, sat down and pulled her over his lap and their ritual began. She was purring when it was over.

“Happy New Year, Sweetie.  May it be the first of many.”  He walked over to his jacket and pulled out a box and handed it to her.  It was too big for a ring box and the disappointment must have shown on her face. She kept staring at the box

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” he said to her
She kept staring at it and finally began removing the ribbon.  She carefully removed the paper and opened the lid.  Inside was an envelope.  She opened the envelope and found this note.
“Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife to have, to hold and to spank for the rest of our lives? “  Brandon watched her eyes go wide in surprise before a tear gathered in the corner threatening to spill over.  “I take it the answer is yes.”

“You’re damn right the answer is yes and it’s about time.”                                                  

“Watch your language now, you know how I feel about cursing and remember to what you just agreed.”  He laughed and gave her bottom a sharp spank.

She yelled “Ouch.  I love you and I accept your proposal.  Do I get a ring?” He laughed again.

“You are such a brat.”  He opened his other hand, and there sitting in the palm of his hand was a sparkling solitaire diamond. “Maybe I should withhold this until I get the proper respect.”

“Just try” and she put out her left hand, palm down and offered her finger.  He put the ring on her finger, kissed that sassy mouth and cupped those rosy red cheeks. She squealed her delight.

“Happy New Year”