by Carl Hamlin
Mike Stafford was getting ready to go to bed when his phone went off. He was disappointed that more time could not have evolved before Clemons was arrested. He would have liked to have gathered more evidence, but having his quarry caught with a bomb in a briefcase clutched in his hand was not exactly a bad development. The adrenaline was pumping, and Stafford tossed on a light jacket and headed for Fairfax.
In his hotel room in the Chicago suburbs, Eric was on the phone with Mike Stafford. It was some of Eric’s analysis that had made it possible for the F.B.I. to be involved in the case. A dangerous man had been thwarted. His meetings with Illinois Homeland Security officials concluded that evening, Eric would be on a flight home in the morning.
Mike Stafford was one of four F.B.I. agents searching through the burned rubble of the home under the glare of floodlights brought in to aid in the search. The process was complicated by the fact that a portion of the floor in the back of the house had collapsed.
They searched slowly, looking at each bit of debris as possible evidence. Stafford had been searching for three hours when he picked up a small, white rectangular slip. It turned out to be a business card. He turned it over and read the information, then stood in stunned silence. He recalled the image from the video, and then slipped the card into his pocket.
Eric was relaxing after just getting home from the airport. He was looking forward to a Saturday afternoon of reading and cuddling with Macie. He was relieved that Clemons was in custody, and that no one had been hurt in spite of the fire and potentially dangerous confrontation at his home. He had just sat down in a recliner to begin reading when his federal phone began to vibrate. He saw on the screen that it was Mike Stafford, who he knew was going to be searching through the obliterated home.
He told Eric how he had sifted through the charred remnants of the Clemons house and among the pieces of burned household items, had found the business card, brown and brittle around the edges, but certainly legible. He decided he needed to do nothing more than call his friend and tell him what Clemons had in his possession, and what had been seen on the video.
Eric’s face drained of all color as he listened as Stafford reported how he had found Macie’s business card in the rubble, and seen her image in the car driving away. He began to tremble as the implications of the news sank in. Eric thanked him and assured him that he had done the right thing by calling him. Eric also promised that the next time they were together, Stafford would receive a full explanation.
After putting his phone away, Eric stood on weak legs and walked slowly toward the bathroom where Macie was taking a shower. Just as he entered the bathroom, the water was turned off. He gazed at the blurred view of his wife through the opaque glass shower surround.
He took a deep breath and spoke. “Macie…..when did you meet Clemons?”
Macie felt her blood turn cold. She did not respond, but slowly opened the door to the shower stall, dripping wet and looking down.
She had to force her words out. “A…..uh…..it was a month before you showed me his picture and told me about him. He came to our office and I met with him about a project we wanted to pursue. It was that big contract for that bunch of rich environmentalists I told you about. It was that one that fell through over a lack of money.”
Eric felt dizzy. “Why did you keep that meeting to yourself after you saw his picture and I told you who he was? You were face to face with a dangerous man who would have loved to take revenge against me. And what were you doing near that safe house?”
Macie began to take a step forward, but hesitated and stayed in the stall. “I wanted to…..I wanted to get involved and show you what I was capable of. I had that information that I was going to give to you. Then….I got curious, and thought that I could get something more. I was going to give you everything today.”
Eric began to tell her how the safe house had burned down, and how his friend had called him in trust. By doing this favor for Eric, he had put his own career at risk, and Eric emphasized that to Macie. He also emphasized that, by withholding what she knew, she passed up an opportunity for the government to wrap up the case more quickly. Lives could have been lost, because Macie had tried to play investigator.
As she listened, she nodded in agreement, full of anger at herself and embarrassment. Most of all, she was crushed at knowing she had let Eric down and threatened his career by meddling.
Eric handed her a towel, and watched in silence as she ran it over her body. When she was finished, Eric extended his hand to take hers, and guided her out of the shower stall.
He looked down at his problematic and incorrigible, but breathlessly cute wife. He put his hand on her back. “Don’t bother getting dressed, except for putting on a top. The bottom part of you is going to be busy for a while, and I don’t mean in a pleasant way. I’m going to close the curtains and wait for you at the sofa. I want to you to look around and find something for me to paddle you with.”
Macie began to shake with apprehension, but she was equally full of self-recrimination. She simply nodded in agreement, and began looking through teary eyes around the bathroom. Eric went to the living room to wait for her and whatever instrument of correction she would bring to him. He knew that her choice would tell him just how seriously she was taking what she had done. The sting factor would indicate her level of remorse.
Her head spinning with fear, guilt and other emotions, she began scanning her surroundings. She had never before viewed their belongings as including a potential paddle. It was obvious from Eric’s instructions that she was in the process of selecting one that would be applied repeatedly and quite painfully to her bare bottom.
She inspected the most obvious choices, those being the two hairbrushes in the top drawer of the bathroom cabinet below the sink. She picked both of them from the drawer, and felt her abdomen and entire mid-section begin to flutter.
One brush was plastic and wide, the other wood and more narrow. She contemplated the wisdom of giving herself sample smacks with each. At first, she was afraid that doing so would just make her panic, and then decided that it only made sense to evaluate their effectiveness.
On shaky legs, Macie walked to the bedroom and placed the brushes on the foot of the bed. Next, she bent over, then picked up the narrow wooden brush, took a deep breath, then clenched her teeth and reached back and smacked herself on her right bottom cheek. The sting was considerable.
Next, Macie picked up the wider plastic brush. She reached back and smacked herself slightly lower on her bottom. She decided it would sting a larger area, and that was what she had deserved.
She put the narrow wood brush away, and carried the plastic one with her as she continued to browse their possessions. She tried to collect her thoughts, mentally reviewing what may be in the kitchen, but nothing came to mind. All the while, the self-administered slight sting that lingered reminded her that she was in for a very painful paddling, one that would involve much harder whacks than she was able to give to herself in such an awkward position.
Still carrying the plastic hairbrush, she went into their bedroom and looked around. Absentmindedly, she strolled into their walk-in closet. She took a favorite t-shirt from a hanger and pulled it over her head. She had felt a chill, and now her top portion would be covered. The bottom part of her would soon be radiating enough heat to keep all of her body warm.
She scanned the boxes of keepsakes and mementoes, and then gazed at the items on the shelf. That was when she froze in fear, for she knew that she had found what she would present to Eric as her choice.
The oak suit brush was absolutely too frightening a choice, but that was why she knew it would have to be her selection of a paddle. The long handle joined a rectangular surface that was ten inches long and two and a half inches wide. She did not have to test it. She knew it would provide an agonizing sting on her bare fanny.
She called out to Eric that she would be there in a few minutes. She placed the brush on the bed and went to the bathroo
m.
As she walked back to the bed to retrieve the brush, she was tempted to put it away and bring out the smaller and lighter weight plastic hairbrush. It was hollow but flat, and used with enough force and for enough smacks, it would certainly leave her content to stand for the rest of the day.
She simply would not allow herself to take that option. She felt horrible about what she had done, and what could have resulted from her display of poor judgment. Her career, her future and those of Eric had been jeopardized. Mike Stafford had stuck his neck out, assuming that Eric would see to the delivery of justice. Stafford may have had no idea as to what form that justice would take, but Macie had been forewarned, and now was no time to attempt to escape the severe paddling she knew was called for in that situation.
CHAPTER SIX
She took a deep breath and walked to the living room, where Eric was sitting on the sofa with a distressed and worried look. He greeted her with a stern frown.
As she approached holding the brush that was partially concealed by her wringing hands, she could see that his eyes were red. As she had once before, she knelt on the sofa next to the man who was about to paddle her. However, this time his worry was compounded by the peril she had ignored.
Eric wiped tears from his eyes and took a breath before speaking in a halting voice.”I can’t imagine what I would do if something happened to you. What will it take to make you think about what I’ve told you?”
Macie answered him by simply presenting him the brush. She gave a sigh and brushed away a tear of her own. “I was so……so tempted to chicken out and not come out with this thing.” She gestured toward the brush that was soon going to set her backside aflame. “That may turn out to be a pretty wicked paddle.” She gave a meek smile. “I’ll tell you shortly just how good a choice I made.”
Eric patted the brush across his open palm. “Macie……your bringing this to me shows some real character. I thought about that suit brush right away. In fact, I thought about it as soon as my conversation with Mike ended. It was always in the back of my mind whenever I thought about how sometime the day would come when I had to give you a rather dramatic demonstration of how serious I am about keeping you safe. But you took this seriously…you really looked around for a while.”
“You mean….you always knew that first paddling you gave me wouldn’t be enough?”
“I wanted it to be. But, you can be headstrong. Now, that brush is going to be used for the purpose I was always afraid it would be used for.”
Macie managed a quiet laugh. “It was obvious as soon as I saw it that it would really sizzle my fanny. I guess it was the only choice I could make and look at myself in the mirror tomorrow.”
Eric patted the brush lightly against Macie’s bottom. “This will feel much different from my hand.”
Macie closed her eyes, reached back, and placed her hands over her bottom. “Ooooohhhh, I know.” She opened her eyes and turned to face Eric. “But I’m ready to get this over with.”
Without another word, she slowly lay down across Eric’s lap, closed her eyes tightly and waited. She clenched her teeth and rested her face on her hands that were balled into fists to help her deal with the storm of pain that was going to engulf her in a moment.
She waited in the deepest of dread of the first shock of stinging fire that she knew that particular brush would produce. She pledged to herself that, regardless the intensity of the pain, she would remind herself after each whack that she had earned everything she was about to experience.
The t-shirt was long enough to reach half way down her bottom, so Eric flipped it up onto her back and placed his left and on the small of her back. When he rested the brush on the center of her bottom, the touch of the cool wood, coupled with her anxiety, made her jump. Macie held her breath as the brush left her bottom.
The brush returned with a sharp “CRACK”, that reminded her of the retort of her brother’s rifle when shooting cans in the backyard during her childhood. The sting was so intense that she immediately cried out and tears formed.
During her previous paddling, Eric’s hand had provided a substantial sting. This was at another level completely. Neither of her parents’ hands or the old, thick yardstick in the kitchen closet had rivaled what she had just felt.
After the full effect had set in, Eric once again brought the brush into contact with the tender flesh of her bottom. The second whack also left an angry red outline, and brought about another loud squeal.
Macie felt overcome by fear and panic. Just the two initial swats with the brush had caused tears to begin to gather and overflow onto her cheeks. In spite of telling herself that she deserved what was taking place, she questioned her ability to continue to tolerate the overwhelming sting of the heavy suit brush.
A third fiery meeting between her bottom and the brush brought about a loud yelp and she could feel the tears beginning to trickle down the sides of her face and to her nose. It was after that smack that she began to get her emotions under control. She knew now just how painful this paddling was going to be. She thought again of all the ramifications her actions could have held, and then steeled herself to simply accept. She told herself that she could handle this, because she simply had to.
However, her acceptance did not in any way abate the pain. The fourth landing of the brush was the worst yet, and she squealed loudly. It was quickly followed by another, one that simply took her breath away, it stung so badly.
Macie’s resolve to stoically accept her paddling was beginning to break. Not only was the sting becoming difficult to cope with, she was finding herself unnerved by the sound of the brush making contact. She was finding that the loud “CRACK” that was simultaneous with another searing shock of sting was nothing but punishment in its own right. She was beginning to fear that sound as well as the sting that accompanied it.
The sixth “WHACK” made the tears flow even more freely. The paddling had now progressed to the point that every smack was going to be landing fully on a surface that had already suffered at least one before.
The next one caused her to break out into a sob, and then Eric halted until she had settled down. He took her by the shoulder and coaxed her to sit up, leaving her confused.
Macy was again kneeling on the sofa, rubbing her bottom and wiping tears. “I…..I….. can’t……hardly imagine you’re done paddling me……. already.”
“Not at all, Macie…….but what else did you consider bringing me to paddle you with?”
Macie wiped the tears from her eyes. “It…..it was that p…..p…..pink plastic hairbrush.”
Eric nodded in recognition. “Oh, yeah. I know the one you mean. But you brought this brush because you felt it was what you deserved, right?”
Macie struggled to not sob. “Yes.”
Eric rubbed her shoulder. “Take this back and get that pink hairbrush. You showed me that you meant business. You know I do. But go trade.”
Macie took a deep breath of relief, and walked to the bedroom with the brush. Eric saw as she walked away that her bottom was already bright red and marked.
Less than a minute later, she again knelt on the sofa and handed the hairbrush to Eric. She arched her eyebrows as she noted, “Even this will sting like hell.”
Eric tapped her on the bottom. “I’m counting on that.”
Macie sighed heavily. “I don’t think I could have taken much more of the other brush.”
Eric massaged her shoulder as they talked. “But, it did provide for quite a warm-up, didn’t it?”
Macie nodded. “I guess you can say it warmed me up really good.”
Eric shook the hairbrush at her threateningly. “But now, I can take my time. I can paddle you with this hairbrush for a long, long time. I want to give you a lot of time to think about everything that has happened.”
Eric took hold of her shoulder, and once again, she lay down across her husband’s knees.
The first smack of the hairbrush landed with a “WHACK” and a se
vere sting, but not nearly of the intensity of the suit brush. It was also more of a surface sting, compared to the other, that had seemed to burn deep into the flesh of her buttocks. Still, the hairbrush was more painful than Eric’s open hand.
This time, Eric did not allow for the extended pauses between smacks. The hairbrush landed much more rapidly, causing an intense and building sting as the plastic surface stung Macie more with each application.
The hairbrush had made contact ten times when Eric paused. “Macie……I hope this teaches you to not take any more chances with our personal security. And…….especially, your safety.” The brushed landed two more times.
Macie cried loudly, and strained to speak. “I know……I’m so sorry, Eric. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Five more sharp smacks made Macie gasp and emit a loud yelp. Eric paused once again. “And this time it was not something that could happen by chance. You were involved face to face with a known domestic terrorist.” Another set of five smacks brought about a variety of verbal reactions, and Macie’s legs began to kick. Eric had already paddled her much more severely than before, and Macie knew he was far from finished.
Macie finally cried out. “My……gosh, this stings so much.”
Eric paused while gently tapping the brush on her flaming bottom. “Tell me, Macie. Have you gotten more than you deserve?”
Macie sniffled, now unable to hold back another wave of tears. “Eric…..that’s not fair. How can I possibly answer that?”
“WHACK!” “OUCH!”
“WHACK!” “YIKES!”
“WHACK!” “YEEOOWWW!.”
Eric halted again. “You tell me if you think you’ve been paddled too much, okay?”
Macie looked back and shook her head. Somehow, she managed a meek smile. “Now you’re being rotten, Eric Lowden. You decided I deserve all this.” “WHACK!”