by Nora Nolan
“Oh, no, no. Let me. It’s because of my mess we can’t get in the kitchen. I’m happy to do it, and besides, you already bought groceries. What would you like? I could go for Pizza, Mexican, Chinese, burgers, or gourmet sandwiches. Any of those sound good to you?”
She laughed. “Mmm, yes. They all do. I think Chinese.” She reached into her kitchen junk drawer. “Here’s FuLin’s menu. They deliver, and they’re fast. I have them on speed dial – that should tell you something. I’ll have Kung Pao chicken and sweet and sour soup.”
He took the menu, made his selection, and placed the call. While they waited, they put up the groceries and planned for an easy supper of sandwiches later. Cheryl got out some paper plates, paper towels, cutlery, tea and soft drinks and put them on the kitchen table that was now in the den. When she turned back toward the kitchen, Paul was watching her with that devilish gleam in his eye.
“It’s all right with me if you take your bra off again.”
She didn’t even blush this time. “You think so?” That’s some bona fide flirting, Mister.
“Definitely.”
She went into her bedroom and removed it, then rejoined him in the kitchen where he sat on the floor among the tiles.
He looked up and grinned appreciatively, not even trying to hide the fact that he was openly eyeing her breasts. Her nipples hardened under his gaze, and his grin subtly turned into a knowing smirk as he looked up at her eyes.
All right, I get it. You know the effect you have on me. Planned it this way, didn’t you? That’s so infuriating and so incredibly hot at the same time. This is a helluva buildup, bud. You better deliver the goods when this thing finally happens. If you’re as good as you say you are, you’ll know what to do. So, big man, it’s all on your shoulders.
His smirk widened into a smile that made him appear amused. Cheryl had the distinct feeling he read her thoughts, but that was preposterous.
Paul was about to turn back to the tile work when the doorbell rang. He took the food, paid and generously tipped the delivery man, and brought the food to the table.
They ate comfortably and companionably, with no overt flirting. The conversation was light but lively, and Cheryl found herself even more attracted to him. It was her impression that he was becoming even more interested in her, too. Good. Maybe I’ll have him eating out of my hand, wrapped around my little finger, by the end of the day. She grinned inwardly at that absurdity, knowing full well that wasn’t going to happen. She had a strong inkling this wouldn’t be like any other relationship she’d had. Oh well, she always said she wanted a strong man who knew what he wanted and knew how to get it. That seemed to describe Paul. There wouldn’t be any wrapping him around her finger.
Cheryl refilled their tea glasses. On the way back to the table, she tripped on her own foot and momentarily lost her balance. She shot out one arm and managed to regain her equilibrium, but she spilled most of Paul’s drink on his white t-shirt.
“Oh no! Take that off and I’ll wash it right now – that tea’s gonna stain if I don’t! Oh, Paul, I’m so sorry!” You shouldn’t have been preoccupied with all those carnal fantasies. Fuck! This is embarrassing.
He stood up and peeled the icy wet shirt off his body, drying his cold wet chest with a paper towel. Cheryl grabbed the shirt and ran into her laundry room. As luck would have it, there was a load of dirty whites already waiting to be washed in the machine. She pretreated the tea stain and started the washer. Once it started, she leaned over the washer on her elbows, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Way to make an impression, Cheryl. What a klutz. What a supreme, incompetent, klutzy fuckety fuck klutz. Go apologize again. Damn damn damn! Nothing like an icy ice tea bath to douse any flames of passion. Like there was going to be passion! You’re not only a klutz, you’re an idiot. He’s probably just playing you for his amusement, anyway.
She felt her hair being swept over her right shoulder, spilling down her front. Paul stepped so close his hip touched her body. His hand rested on her left shoulder. That tingly heat. “It’s just a shirt, baby. No harm done. Turn around.”
She did, and found herself almost touching him. Cheryl took in his chiseled muscles – she was too close to be able to ignore them. She was so close she couldn’t take them all in at one glance, she had to let her eyes roam up his chest and down each arm, then up to his face to find his eyes on hers.
“I know it’s just a shirt, but still, I’m sorry. I feel guilty. If I’d been paying more attention, it wouldn’t have happened. Now it might stain and ruin your white shirt.”
“Guilt, huh?”
“Yes.” She cast her eyes down.
“You apologized, and I accepted your apology. Now isn’t that supposed to be the end of it?”
“I know, but still.”
“Look at me.” She did. “So even though I accepted your apology and it should all be over now, you still feel guilty?”
“Yeah. Stupid clumsy guilt.” This close proximity to him wreaked havoc inside her. She wondered if he knew how aroused she was becoming.
“We can’t have that. I’ll get rid of the guilt for you.”
“How will you do that?”
“The same way people have gotten rid of guilt since the beginning of time.” He raised his massive right hand and flexed it straight, slowly turning it. She saw the corded veins running down his arm to his knuckles. “I’m going to apply this a few times to your backside.”
Can this be happening? No. Can it? Isn’t this what I’ve always wanted a man to do?
“Oh,” she said hesitantly, suddenly afraid of her own desires, “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
His voice softened. “Baby, I’m not giving you a choice. It won’t be unbearable, but it will happen. It’ll be enough for you to feel like you’ve paid a penalty and have redeemed yourself, but it won’t be out of proportion. After all, I’ve already forgiven you. You just need to forgive yourself. This is just for you. You need this, don’t you?”
She whispered, her voice very small. “Yes.”
“There’s not enough room in here. Let’s go to your bedroom. You can bend over the bed.”
Cheryl’s heart raced and her belly fluttered and she knew her face was as red as a firetruck. He’d probably have her backside that same color soon.
She bent over the bed with her hands on it, too embarrassed to ask if that’s the position he wanted her in. Should her forearms be on the bed? Her head and shoulders? He’d probably tell her if he wanted her positioned differently. She waited, afraid to look behind and watch him. Her eyes were closed.
He approached her, close enough for her to sense his presence directly behind her. She felt his hands touch her bottom and she held her breath, trying to anticipate his next move. With both hands, he rubbed her buttocks, then he raised her skirt, little by little until it was around her waist. She closed her eyes even tighter and grabbed the comforter into her fists.
Both his hands unhurriedly explored her bottom again, and he whispered. “So beautiful.”
She felt him press himself up against her just for a moment before stepping back and to the left. His left hand soothed her back. His right rubbed her bottom, then he lifted it and sharply brought it down. Thwap!
It didn’t hurt. It should have hurt, but it didn’t. Do all his touches give that tingly heat like this?
Thwap!
That one really didn’t hurt, either. Sting, yes, but it’s not bad. This isn’t what I expected.
Thwap! Thwap! Paul peppered her with a few more, then stopped to rub her freshly pinkened skin.
The next swat drew a gasp from her. He no longer delivered the light warming blows; the serious penance had begun. He was slow and deliberate. Each blow drew a cry from her and he gave her time to regain composure after each one. After five or six, she begged him to stop, the tears welling in her eyes. “Please, that’s enough!”
“I’ll decide that, baby. You need just a few more.” He follow
ed up with three more, a little harder than all the others.
“Please, Paul, stop!” Her tears spilled on the bedcovers.
He did stop, and he gently rubbed her again. There had been real pain with the last few licks, but the pain didn’t last. His hands left a radiant warmth in its place, and she was surprised to realize it didn’t feel sexy as she’d fantasized it would be. Paul pulled her skirt back into place, sat down, and pulled her up to sit on his muscled thighs. His arm came around her back, tucking her into his embrace, her head on his chest.
“How do you feel?”
She reflected and answered honestly. “Lighter. Freer. Warm.”
“Does it still hurt?”
She pulled her head back and looked up at him with a little wonderment. “No, not at all. It did, I mean, when you did it, but I don’t feel it now. Not much residual sting or ache. I just have a nice sense of, um, I don’t know, well-being, I guess.”
“Well, that’s good, baby, that’s what I was going for. How’s that guilty feeling now?”
“Oh, it’s gone,” she managed a small laugh, “and you know that’s not a fair question. I couldn’t exactly say I still felt guilty, now could I? And by the way, how did you do that? I don’t even feel a trace of pain anymore.”
He chuckled. “I’m very good, remember?”
Cheryl smiled, slapped at his chest, and leaned her head against him again. “I am tired, though. And maybe a little sleepy.”
“Has anyone ever done that to you before?”
“No, you’re the first.”
“Oh, I do like firsts,” he grinned wickedly. “You just went through a bit of a shock and a lot of emotions. Why don’t you lie down while I work on the floor?”
“I think I will, if you don’t mind.” She yawned. “I guess after that, I can trust you not to steal the silverware, right?”
His smile was tender. “I would never betray your trust. Now stand up, let’s get you comfortable.”
He unsnapped and unzipped her skirt, then pulled it down and waited as she stepped out of it. He pulled back the covers of her bed, tucking her in when she was settled.
The last thing she thought as she dozed off was that alarms and red flags ought to be going off inside her. She only met the man hours before! He’d managed to insinuate himself into her life so quickly she should be running as fast as she could.
She squelched those thoughts and slept, and dreamed of herself and Paul together in a vaguely familiar place, happily and passionately in love.
* * *
She awoke quite a while later, hungry. She hurriedly used the bathroom and slipped her skirt back on.
“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he greeted her as she walked into the living area.
The floor caught her by surprise. It was completed, baseboards back in place, and even the dinette set was returned to its original position. She was amazed and immensely impressed that it looked so beautiful – it was perfect. She was more amazed that he’d completed it so quickly. She’d had floors done before, and they just didn’t go down that fast. He’d even had time to get all the sandwich items out of the refrigerator, set the table, and ice the glasses.
“Paul, it’s wonderful! I can’t believe how much of a difference it makes in here.”
“Told you I was good. Satisfaction guaranteed, you know.”
“Yes, you’re good. With just a touch of arrogance thrown in for good measure,” she offered, grinning. “I don’t know what to say. I’m thrilled.”
“I’m glad, baby. How about let’s eat now? Later I can work on the bathroom countertop. I think I have everything I need in my truck.”
* * *
After they ate, Paul went back into the bathroom and stripped the edges off the countertop; they were already loose in places. The top veneer was glued securely, so he decided it only needed to be primed. He went out to his truck and came back in with decorative fluted and beveled edge strips already cut to size. When they were affixed, he joined Cheryl in the den.
“The primer coat needs to dry before I can continue. I need for you to use the second bath until I have it finished. Will that be a problem?”
“No, not at all. How long will it take?”
“Oh, it’ll be done tomorrow. Then it’ll need to dry completely, so you can’t use it until the next day.”
Cheryl hated to see Paul leave for the night, even though he indicated he’d be back tomorrow. She recognized her intense physical attraction for him and wondered if he felt the same way. Who wouldn’t be attracted to him? He was the hottest thing she’d seen in a long time. No, make that the hottest thing she’d seen ever, and here he was, in her house, giving her attention. He did, after all, call her gorgeous and let her know he liked to see her without her bra. Oh yeah, he’s got the hots for me, too. Cheryl wasn’t a stranger to one night stands, so sleeping with him wouldn’t be that big of a deal for her. And as primo as he is, he probably lost count of his one-nighters long ago.
And those images that flashed in her head earlier when he kissed her forehead - where did they come from? Had he made her see them? No, that couldn’t be. Mind control? Really? She was probably just transferring her spanking fetish onto him. She decided to just go for it.
“Paul, how about a glass of wine or a beer?”
“All right, I’ll take a beer. You stay there,” he said as she started to rise. “I’ll grab it.” He took a beer from her refrigerator and joined her on the couch.
“I love the floor. I’ve been sitting here admiring it.”
“I’m glad. I knew you would, though.”
She glanced over sideways at him, grinning. “Oh, I know. Satisfaction guaranteed. What would you have done if I hadn’t liked the finished product?”
“There was never any chance of that. You liked the tile, and I do good work.”
There’s that cockiness again. “But what if?”
“I would have convinced you that you love it.”
She laughed. “And exactly how would you have done that?”
“I guess there are a couple of ways I could do it. I could have put you over my knee for one.”
Cheryl’s eyes widened and Paul winked as he tweaked her chin. “Minds tend to change when the proper stimulus is applied.”
“And what’s the other way?”
“I could put thoughts of satisfaction into your consciousness.”
“What, is that like making me think something? Like in the sci fi movies when false memories are planted? Or like Men in Black with that pen thingy that wipes out memories?” Or put dirty images in my head when you kiss me?
“That’s extreme, but something like that.”
She laughed, hesitantly. “You’re full of it.”
“That’s bold talk when I just mentioned spanking you.”
“You already did that once today.”
“Doesn’t mean I won’t do it again.”
She downed the rest of her wine for courage. “You know, I always thought spanking was sexy until today. Finally somebody spanked me, and when it was over, I wasn’t on fire. I think you ruined that fantasy for me. My own private kink and you took it from me.”
“That spanking wasn’t supposed to be sexy. You needed it for another reason.”
“Still, it should have done something for me.”
“Oh, no, baby, I didn’t want it to be sexy.”
“Oh, right,” she said, a bit sarcastically. “So you were controlling that? What makes you think you can do that? Don’t tell me you can control my responses.”
“What if I was? Would you like for me to give you another example? Want me to bring back your fantasy?”
“I don’t think you can now.”
Paul’s face went from amused to mildly annoyed. He picked her up and set her down on her knees, straddling his thighs. Her skirt rode up to allow her legs to separate that far. He was still taller than she was, and his shoulders were nearly as wide as half the couch. She was afraid of his touch every bit as m
uch as she craved it. After all, if he were that stalker or rapist or murderer, there was no way she could defend herself. He lifted her up like she weighed no more than a cat. No, that’s not what I’m afraid of. What if I fall for him, he leaves, and I never see him again?
Paul took his time letting his eyes take in her eyes, lips, her breasts. He caressed her shoulders, running his hands down her arms, his thumbs touching her breasts as they lowered. His face neared hers until their lips met.
Cheryl’s mind blanked as the tingling sensation enveloped her. His lips were soft, sweet, teasing, and she returned the kisses in kind. An image of the two of them together in unfamiliar surroundings crept into her head. They began walking, with one of Paul’s arms around her and his other one pointing out something in the distance. It looked as though they laughed, then Paul gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. That image faded and another one sprang up. Paul was shirtless, his muscles rippling as he moved to undress her. They were in an unfamiliar bedroom. When she was nude, he sat her on the bed and stood up, removing his pants before crawling in bed with her. Then the scene morphed. He was sitting up in the bed, leaning back against a massive knotty wood headboard. She lay across his lap and his hand fondled her ass. Suddenly he pulled his hand back and struck her across the buttocks.
Cheryl broke the kiss and gasped, opening her eyes. He languidly looked back at her, and an amused little grin played on his lips.
“How did you do that,” she demanded.
“Do what, baby?”
“Make me see those things. How did you do that?”
“Your imagination must be working overtime.”
He put his hand behind her head and brought her face to his, purposefully, but not forcefully. He began to kiss her again. His tongue darted in and played a game with hers. Paul’s hand ventured up under her t-shirt and found a nipple. Cheryl moaned.
A new scene entered her mind, playing against her closed eyelids. They were again both nude, lying in the same bed she saw before. Paul drew a nipple up in his mouth, stroking and flicking it with his tongue as his hand glided down her body. He ran his hand across her belly and under the other side of her, cupped her ass, and squeezed it. She moaned again, both in her vision and in the moment.