“Do you really want to go? Aren't you a little curious?”
“Curiosity killed the cat.” I shrugged my shoulders as I stood up.
Ryan also stood and jumped to get my coat. He gave me another dazzling smile as he helped me put it on. “You have my e-mail address. Drop me a line and let me know how you are doing.” He placed both of his hands on my shoulders and looked deep into my eyes. “I want you to take good care of yourself. Please drive more carefully and more slowly. If the police do stop you, please don't lie to them. I can already picture you babbling on and answering questions that they didn't even ask.”
I blushed red. That kind of did sound like something I would do. I also felt smaller than I actually was. He was scolding me like I was a little girl and he was the worried parent. The thing was, I believed him that he would worry.
He continued, “I know you have heard this a thousand times before, but it bares repeating. Do on to others as you would have them do onto you. You pull yourself down when you put others down. People will only remember that you were mean. They won't think that you were funny.
I nodded thoroughly ashamed of myself.
He kissed my forehead. “Take care of yourself.”
I nodded as I left. I drove home careful not to go over the limit. I felt chastised. I hadn't even been at his place for a half an hour, and already he was making an impression. It was still light out on this late Californian August evening.
Chapter 2 The Golden Rule
I noticed that I was nicer the next couple of weeks. I was a pleasure to be around.
I had been able to write a couple of chapters in my book. There was still something missing, but it was better than the crap I had written beforehand. I couldn't call my friend and ask her because she would just defend him and feel offended. I wasn't allowed to hurt anyone's feelings. I laughed at myself for thinking that he could forbid me anything. I thought about him a lot.
Ryan sure did know how to make an impression.
I wrote him an e-mail. I had nodded that I would tell him how I was doing. I had even admitted that I had been very good. He had written right back and said that he was proud of me. That had made me feel good about myself. His opinion seemed to mean a lot to me.
I wrote back and asked him the difference between a spanking and domestic abuse. I should probably just come clean with him. I had a feeling that he would be glad to help me.
He wrote back that that was a very good question but one that he would prefer to explain to me when we were alone. He wanted to be able to look into my eyes to make sure I understood everything. He wanted to be sure that their were no misunderstandings.
I agreed to come around when he had time. His schedule was a lot fuller than mine. He often didn't have time. I wanted to ask him how many women he spanked, but he had been clear that he wouldn't answer questions like that.
I drove to his apartment and slipped into a parking spot. I had been eager to see him again. My life had been better since he was in it. I had driven a little too fast on the way here. Of course, I hadn't gotten caught, but we had talked about that. I didn't want to confess that I had been bad after being good for so long. I rang his doorbell and he opened up right away.
I smiled at him. He smiled back like he had honestly missed me. I wondered what his neighbors thought with so many women coming and going.
He took my coat again and I wondered in the direction of the kitchen. My coffee was already waiting for me. It was steaming hot. Just the way my fingers liked it. I was working on several books at the moment. I typed all day every day, no Sundays off for me.
I sat down at my spot and waited for him to come in and sit down. He did but he kept his eyes on my hands.
“It's warm out why are you doing that?” I knew he meant my fingers.
“I always do that. It's a habit. Does it bother you?” If he had a thousand and one pet peeves then I would be out of here fast.
“No, I just wondered. It's so hot out I thought about offering you something cool to drink.” He was smiling and wondering about me. As always he so worried. “You wanted to talk to me again?”
“Yes, just a couple of quick questions. I was just wondering about a few things. I want to make it clear that I haven't changed my mind. I just wanted more information. I wasn't trying to accuse you of anything, I was just wondering what the difference between – I mean where is the line drawn between – abuse and discipline?” There I had said it and somewhat coherently too.
I had been able to spit it out while his eyes laughed at me. He was used to my funny way of talking. I could have probably knocked him over with a feather if I told him how I earned my money.
“Like I said before, that is an excellent question. I think the best way to explain it is uncontrolled anger. If you were to do something that is beneath you like being mean to someone you care about and hurting their feelings or endangering yourself or someone else then I would be very angry with you and I would do what was possible to ensure that you wouldn't do anything along those lines again but I wouldn't beat on you, hitting you somewhere where you could get seriously hurt. No, I would take you over my knees and pull you close so you wouldn't feel left alone or unwanted. Then I would spank your bottom and just your bottom until I was sure you had learned your lesson. If you would repeat the same mistake. I would make my position even clearer so you would understand how serious I was.
“Abuse would be defined as me not being in control. That is something that is completely unacceptable and has nothing to do with discipline.” His face was so serious as he spoke.
I nodded and didn't meet his eye. Did he know that I had sped here this evening?
“Do you have something that you want to tell me?” His serious face got even worse.
I felt the heat rising to my face. He was staring me down. I was squirming on my chair. How was he doing that, I wondered? I shook my head.
He sighed, obviously disappointed in me. “How am I supposed to help you if you lie to me?” His voice was still nice and patient, but I had an enormous feeling of guilt.
I looked into my coffee and then back to him. “I – It doesn't matter. I will never bother you again. I promise.”
“The thing is that I worry about you, a lot. I know you can do better and be more if you could just slow down a little. You just get so caught up in things that you forget yourself. Now, I'm not giving you any excuses. I'm just saying that you wouldn't do or say things you know perfectly well that you shouldn't if you would just stop and think.”
Was he spying on me? That was of course the truth, but how did he know that? I felt like running out of here screaming 'stalker'.
“What's wrong, don't you agree?” He took a sip of his coffee.
“I was just wondering how you got the idea, that I don't stop and think?”
He smiled and look down so I wouldn't see him doing it. “You told me you say things in haste the last time you were here, and no one would say something mean after thinking about it and thinking about the consequences that such words bring with it.”
Okay that was true. How did he get so wise?
“Tell me, what you said that hurt someone's feelings?”
“I didn't. Really I didn't.” I was eager for him to believe me and to think well of me.
“Fine. I understand. That means that you drove too fast again. I don't understand. We talked about this before. Do we seriously need to rehash this?” He leaned back in his chair. “I may not know your name but I do worry about you. I wish you wouldn't take my feelings so lightly. When you don't listen to me, it makes me feel very unimportant to you. Maybe you think that because we hardly know each other that I am going overboard, but imagine me opening the newspaper one day, and finally finding out your name, as I read about you dying in the car accident.”
“Oh.” I hung my head. I hadn't thought about it that way.
“Yes, oh. Sometimes you meet someone and they make a lasting impression on you. That is the case with us
.” He looked a little uncomfortable admitting that. But as always, I believed him.
He gave me my usual scolding at the door but this time I got a hug and the normal kiss on the forehead.
As always after a visit to him I was a perfect angel. I even caught myself, trying to figure out what he would say to this or that.
I thought a lot about him around one in the morning. I was tired and belonged in bed but I was also in the middle of writing something. Sometimes I would be good and write myself a note about how I wanted to continue, and sometimes I was bad and wrote until my head dropped, and I fell asleep in sitting. I saw his disappointed face in those moments.
I had written an e-mail saying goodbye but I thought about him a lot. I expected to see him out on the town but I never did and I was looking. I didn't feel like I was being followed either. Things had been on the up and up with him.
With time I thought about him less and less. His scolding was starting to fade, too. I was back to driving like a German and snapping at the people I loved. My mom had even given me a lecture on the phone because I had apparently been rude to my cousin at a family wedding. I rolled my eyes as my mom went on and on.
I called my cousin to apologize, but her feelings were honestly hurt, and she didn't want to talk to me. She even hung up on me after saying that it wasn't her fault that I couldn't find a date for the wedding, and that I shouldn't take it out on her.
I cried for days. I felt just terrible. Her words had hit the nail on the head. That had been the real reason that I was so out of sorts that day. Everyone else seemed to have found their significant other but me. Even people who I felt didn't look as good as I did.
Okay, who looked a lot worse than I did. That could only mean that I had some gigantic personality flaw. I mean, I was thirty years old and I had only had one boyfriend years ago. I wasn't even playing the field. I hadn't talked to a guy at all in years except at work. Okay, that spanking guy but that had been business too.
There was definitely something wrong with me. Maybe I just needed a little sex? No, I wasn't the type to go to a bar and pick up a guy. Plus one of my books was taking off. I was becoming semi-famous. I didn't want a bad repetition in the book world. Kids were reading my stuff. I had to be a good role model. Maybe I didn't have to be, but I wanted to be.
“Could you bring me a cup of coffee?” I asked my agent's assistant. I was going over the movie rights for my book. They were actually going to film it.
I was excited about this but I hated doing all of this paperwork that I didn't understand. The numbers were all running together in my head. I was trying so hard to concentrate but I had been up late last night writing.
I had written something great, well I was pleased with it, but now I was so tired that I couldn't think straight.
Bad timing on my part. I just needed a little coffee to help me through this business talk.
Her assistant came in again without my coffee. I asked politely for a cup again. She nodded and took off. I tried to concentrate, but I was wondering about my coffee. I was thinking more about just getting it myself than listening to the numbers that would mean a huge change in my life. I was going to be rich. I could quit writing and live off the money the film and books would bring in if I lived wisely.
I had no intention to quit writing, but it was nice to know. My thoughts also kept diving into the 'I had no one to share the money with' area. The old saying about lucky in work and unlucky in love fit me. I had only slept with my college boyfriend so it had been years since I – never mind.
I was thinking about joining a church group and meeting a nice guy, when the assistant came in again. Again she had no coffee.
“I really need a cup of coffee.” I eyed her getting upset.
My agent looked up over the top of her glasses. “Why is the coffee being such a problem?” She was ticked too. Usually when I came in here they all bent over backwards to please me.
“The machine is broken,” she admitted.
I sighed loudly. Was I disappointed. “Well, I'm sure you have more than one coffee machine in this building. Couldn't you use a different one.” I didn't mean to sound so mean but it was just so obvious to me. I was bringing this company in a lot of money and a mere cup of coffee wasn't too much to ask.
“Of course. I'll go get it right now.” She left in a hurry.
“I hope she doesn't spit in it,” I murmured under my breath.
“I'm sorry about that, Katherine. Don't worry she won't be here next time when you come in.”
“Is she trading to a different department?” One with a functioning coffee machine, I hoped.
“I'm afraid I will have to let her go.” My agent went off listing all the conditions of the contract.
“Excuse me, she isn't going to be fired because of a cup of coffee?” I was feeling pretty guilty now.
“Let's just say that it was the straw that broke the camel's back.” She went on reading.
The assistant came in and gave me my coffee. I thanked her, wholeheartedly. I was a terrible person.
Chapter 3 There is no Safety in Words
I went home and sat down in front of my laptop. I couldn't concentrate on what I was writing. I wrote Ryan an e-mail, telling him what a bad person I was, and apologizing for using him as my dumping ground. It had been over a month since we had last seen each other.
I was surprised when he answered right away. He wrote that he wanted to see me right now. I regretted admitting that I had also been driving too fast.
I drove to his house, asking myself why I was even going over to his place. I didn't have to but I knew that he would scold me and set me right for about a week. Would a spanking have longer lasting effects?
I rang his bell, feeling like this was the principal's office. I had nervous butterflies in my stomach.
He opened right away. He wasn't one to keep a lady waiting.
There was my sarcasm again. It was too warm out for a coat, and I had usually come in the evening up until now. He didn't have to take my coat. The routine had been broken. It made this visit feel different.
He pointed to his kitchen. My coffee was waiting. Maybe he needed a job? My agent was looking for an assistant who knew how to get coffee on the table, I mused to myself. Why was I being so sarcastic? Was I nervous? He had never been anything but nice to me. I still couldn't imagine him hitting anyone.
He sighed loudly. “How often are you planning to contact me with your misdeeds?”
I was surprised. I had a feeling that he cared and wanted to hear from me. It had been his idea for me to come here today. “I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't be bothering you like this. I don't know what I was thinking.” I got up to leave.
“Sit down we're not finished.” His tone left no leeway.
I sat. After the tone he had taken there was nothing else I could have done.
“I think you contact me because you know I have the power to make you behave as you should and I can make you feel good about yourself again. But you are just too chicken.”
“How would letting someone hit me, make me feel good about myself?” I demanded.
“Because it wouldn't be hitting but a sound spanking that you thoroughly deserve.”
“No one deserves to be hit. There is no reason for that kind of abuse.” I spat my words right back at him. That I didn't say, 'Put that in you pipe and smoke it' was a sign of the restraint that I was exercising at the moment.
He smiled in a charming way. “Like I said chicken. You come to me as if I was your priest but I'm not. I'm the guy that lays you over his knees and spanks you, setting you on the right track again.”
“No, really. This is all very ridiculous. I'm leaving.” I got up, gave my coffee a longing glance and I headed to the door.
He jumped up and lightly grabbed my wrist. He walked us over to the sofa. “We can take this as slowly as you need. You just have to tell me your safe word. We will talk about everything that happened and I will help you f
eel better about yourself.”
He was hypnotizing me with his eyes. He didn't break eye contact as he sat down on the sofa. “Just come over my lap and we will see where we go from there.” He gently tugged me down so I was sitting next to him.
“I'm too afraid for something like this,” I admitted to him. His blue eyes were holding my brown eyes. I just couldn't look away.
“We'll take it as slow as you need. You are safe with me. Do you believe that?”
I broke eye contact then. I shrugged my shoulders. “Does a person ever really know someone else?” I sounded so philosophical.
He gave me a light laugh and then huge smile. “I feel I know you. You are a very good person who is striving to became an even better person. You feel you need a little help with that but at the same time you are one of those women who wants to do everything all by themselves or they feel weak. You feel if someone helps you it takes from your accomplishments.”
How did he know that? He had just described me to a tee. All women probably felt that way, or at least lots of them, I reasoned with myself. This was just a trick to get what he wanted. “I have to be going now.” I tried to pull my wrist away from him but he was able to hold fast, without hurting me.
“What's the point of leaving? You will come back again. Let's get it over with this time.” He was able to smile at me, look confident, caring and still look strict all at once. How was he doing that?
He was pushing me over his lap. I went as stiff as I could and pressed upwards so I wouldn't bend. He didn't give up.
Now was the time to come clean that I wasn't a fellow sick-o who liked this sort of thing. I cleared my throat to speak but nothing came out. I was too scared to speak. The moment I feared was here and I didn't have any words that could help me. I was already crying but not because of the things I had done. I was crying because I was afraid like a little girl who knew there was nothing that would happen to save me. Please let someone ring the bell and save me.
Hot Cooking Spanker Wanted Page 2