Lanie's Lessons

by Maddie Taylor

  “Move your hands down two steps, Lanie. I want the ass high in the air.”

  This put her body at a forty-five degree angle with her bare ass in the perfect position to receive his hand. When the first smack landed, the echo resounded loudly up the wooden staircase and man-oh-man, did it sting.

  Her voice hitched as she yelped his name.

  “Quiet. I’m going to teach you a Sox lesson. There is no fair argument when it comes to the New York Yankees, Lanie.” His hand landed again, keeping up a steady barrage of spanks while he lectured. “You live in Boston and have for many years. You’re married to a man from Boston. You work here, your friends are here, so you should know how it is.” Her cheeks had passed warm and were well on their way to blazing, but he didn’t let up. “The Sox are in the playoffs. They’re playing the Yankees in game six of the ALCS and are up three games to two. Do you understand what that means?”

  He paused to hear her answer. Unwisely she gave it. “Um… I guess it means that Jeter and the boys better step it up if they want to bring the series back to the Big Apple.”

  A half dozen blazing swats rained down on her thighs as he barked, “Wrong answer.” After those were delivered, he resumed the measured swats to her heated cheeks as he continued with his lecture.

  “Stop, Ethan. I was kidding.”

  “What it means is that when The Sox win tonight the series will come home to Boston. Because to lose means going back to New York for game seven. It is less than desirable to win on the road—although we’ll suck it up and take it—because Boston loves their Sox. For a true Bostonian, The Sox are like a religion and what you are wearing is nothing short of blasphemy.” A particularly sharp smack punctuated his statement.

  “Ouch! Ethan! That really stung!”

  He ignored her, his palm continuing to rain down fire from one side to the other, although the spanks seemed a little less biting. “It also means you do not walk out of this house wearing a New York Fucking Yankees jersey. You got me?”

  “Yes, sir,” came her watery response. “I got you.”

  He stopped, but he didn’t help her up, or give her a cuddle or pet her stinging cheeks like he usually did. He was that put out with her. Instead, she heard the clink of his belt and the next instant he was inside her. His big cock occupying every available amount of space as he filled her. In the brief moment before he started to move, she felt the incredible stretch deep inside. Her pussy spasmed in delight, tightening as if trying to hold him there forever. Even after he’d blistered her butt to a fiery burn, she wanted this man, and she wanted him to fuck her right now.

  As if hearing her thoughts, he pulled almost all the way out before plunging back in—hard. Lanie’s knees nearly buckled from the mind numbing pleasure. He caught her, his hands wrapping around her waist, supporting her, keeping her in place so he could drive his length inside her, deeper and faster. She grunted with each inward stroke as he took her, almost angrily. As if he planned to fuck the Yankee right out of her. Jolting Joe might roll over in his grave, but right there and then on her stairs, with Ethan slamming into her from behind, she vowed to die a devoted Sox fan if Ethan would take her like this before each game.

  Once again, with perfect timing, he pushed her over the top into a truly amazing climax. As she flew apart, so did he, both of them crying out as they came.

  “Damn, baby.” Ethan huffed, as his head came to rest on her back. “That might have been the best one yet. Thank you.”

  “You didn’t like my little dig about Jeter, Ethan. You slapped me really hard over that.”

  “Too hard?”

  Lanie could hear the concern in his voice and decided it wasn’t nice to joke about such things. “No,” she giggled. “I loved it.”

  Concern turned quickly to relief as he teased, “Who would have thought you would become such a spank-o.”

  She snorted at that bald statement. “It takes one to know one, professor.”

  “Fair enough. I guess we better clean up and get going. We’re supposed to meet Ray and Vicki for a beer before the game.”

  She waited, but he didn’t move, holding her motionless while still lodged inside her. She hardly minded, savoring the warm glow their intimacy instilled within her. After several moments passed, she thought of the time and their plans for the evening.

  “Honey, you’ll have to let me up if you want to go anywhere.”

  “Hmm, I was thinking…”

  “Yeah?”

  Ethan’s hands moved to her shoulders. His fingers curling into her collar preceded a ripping sound as cool air hit her back.

  “What the—Ethan!”

  Too shocked to speak coherently, she looked down as another rent opened in the front of her shirt. He proceeded to shred it, his strong hands tearing it as easy as tissue paper. When she saw the tattered remnants of her Yankees T-shirt land at her feet, she was floored.

  “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “It’s galling to see your perfect body encased in such filth. I couldn’t help myself. Besides, I’ve always wanted to act like the barbarian you’ve oftentimes accused me of being and rip your clothes off.”

  “That was my very favorite shirt.”

  His shout of laughter startled her as he eased out of her body. Then he swatted her butt twice.

  She squealed and grabbed her stinging bottom. “Hey, what was that for? I thought the scene was over.”

  “You, Lanie Fischer, are a terrible liar. I bought that shirt specifically for this scene and you know it. I had to hide my head in shame and hope no one I knew saw me, that was 48-hours ago at the most.”

  She grinned sheepishly up at him while rubbing her butt. “I forgot. I used to have a shirt almost exactly like this. I haven’t seen it in ages.” She peeked up at him, almost shyly. “It was a nice finishing touch, don’t you think?”

  As he tugged her into his arms, his soft laughter tickled her bare skin. That was so nice.

  “You just wanted more spanks.”

  She shrugged. Her feet left the floor as he lifted her. Instinctively, her legs wrapped around his waist as he began to climb the stairs. “That was fun. I want to do it again. I’m a Giants fan. Who do you like in football?”

  “Dear lord, I’ve created a monster.”

  Latching onto his ear, she sucked on the lobe and felt a groan rumble in his chest. “You have, and you love every minute of it.”

  *

  Despite their little adventure, they met Ray and Vicki on time at the Landsdowne Pub, which was just down the street from Fenway Park. Somehow, Ray and Vicki had found a table in the throng of fans that crowded the popular restaurant before the big game. An easy walk to their gate, they had plenty of time to chat and relax at the traditional Irish pub before the first pitch. They shared a huge platter of Irish nachos. Lanie had snickered when she’d seen them, irreverently calling the local favorite ‘a heart attack on a plate.’ Traditional with chili and cheese, jalapenos and sour cream, the difference was that instead of the toppings drenching a plate of tortilla chips, they sat atop a huge pile of French fries.

  Despite her mockery of the pre-game snack, Ethan watched in amusement as Lanie dug into them ravenously, licking her fingers so as not to miss a single decadent morsel. When she glanced up and met his gaze, he arched a questioning brow, which made her pause, but only for a second. She then shrugged, angled her head back, slid a fry dripping with meat and cheese into her mouth and proceeded to lick the juices from her gleaming lips, the whole while grinning at him like the cat who got the cream.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. In the past few months she had really blossomed, laughing more easily and cutting loose like never before. Not that she hadn’t been fun before, it was just different now. Whether in a power suit or jeans and a tee, she glowed, so beautifully.

  Earlier, she had changed into more appropriate Sox attire and presented herself for Ethan’s inspection. He’d nodded approvingly at the fitted tee in muted red with
a huge Boston ‘B’ that covered most of the front. It hugged her curves perfectly as did the snug jeans that she wore with it.

  “Nope. That won’t do,” was his comment as he strode to their walk-in closet.

  “I don’t have anything else except a Giant’s nightshirt.”

  He grunted in mock outrage as he scanned the shelf. While he searched for the addition he had in mind, he teased, “Wear that to my bed woman and it’ll be in shreds too.” Finding what he was looking for, he grabbed it as he called, “I’ll also tie your hands behind your back, and swat your ass until it is permanently Sox red. This is strictly a Sox and Pats household.”

  He reappeared with one of his many ball caps and placed it on her head. “There. Now you’re ready.”

  Looking cute and sexy all in one perfect package, she moved to the mirror and promptly removed it. Brushing her hair back, she tucked the sides behind her ears and adjusted the cap just so. Tilting her head back, she grinned up at him. “What do you think? Do I pass for a member of the Red Sox Nation? Or are my pinstripes still showing?”

  “Bite your tongue woman. I’m trying to wipe that fact from my memory banks.”

  “I’m teasing about the Giant’s shirt. I had one years ago, but it must have gotten lost in the move.”

  “Nope. I trashed that ugly sucker the minute I saw it.” Bending, he kissed the shocked look off her face, thanking the heavens above for bringing such a beautiful creature into his life. When he lifted his head, he smiled at her dazed expression, pleased his kisses could still make her forget how to think for awhile.

  As Ethan looked at her now, chatting animatedly with her friend, she was comfortable, spirited, vivacious… worlds removed from the Ice Queen. If he hadn’t seen her in court several times, he would never have believed the nickname. Compared to the Lanie he knew, their coexistence in the same body was a paradox.

  “So, Lanie,” Ray asked when there was a lull in the ladies’ conversation, “how is the new practice coming along.”

  “Wonderfully, sir. Business is brisk and we’re expanding already. We hired an office manager who started last week and I’m currently interviewing for a paralegal.” She beamed at Ethan, who had helped her come to grips with those decisions.

  “I know an excellent paralegal with twenty years of experience. She worked for a friend of mine that retired last month. I can give her a reference and send her your way if you’d like.” He frowned suddenly and added, “No pressure, of course.”

  “I’d love to meet with her, sir. Vicki, you have one of my cards, don’t you? I didn’t bring a purse.”

  “She stuffed everything in my pockets, Ray. If you need lip gloss during the seventh inning stretch, I’m your man.”

  They were still chuckling at Ethan’s joke when the waiter brought their check.

  “I have your card, Lanie. And stop calling Ray, sir. You’re making me feel ancient.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  The chief justice reached over and squeezed her hand. “I understand, dear. We have a daughter older than you. Vicki refuses to acknowledge that we’re really that old.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Vicki said with an arched brow. “It might be okay for her to call you pops like Becca, or pawpaw like the grandkids, but I must draw the line somewhere.”

  Ray looked at Lanie and winked. “See what I mean?”

  “Ray,” she protested, but her husband eased the sting of his teasing with a gentle kiss on her cheek.

  Ethan couldn’t be sure in the dim light, but he thought the tough as nails judge actually blushed. Despite so many years of marriage, they were still able to tease playfully, were close and very affectionate. He glanced again at Lanie. She was giving him a misty eyed look. He knew what she was thinking; both wanting to have that same closeness in thirty or forty more years.

  *

  The men settled the bill and they headed out. Although it was a short distance to the ballpark, it took almost thirty minutes to find their seats in the sellout crowd. Ethan gripped her hand tightly as they weaved their way through the sea of fans dressed in predominantly Sox colors. An occasional pinstripe wearing fan was spotted here and there, but they were definitely a minority and were receiving a lot of razzing from the home town fans. Even though the earlier scene was just that, a scene, she was relieved to be sporting Boston red.

  As they walked down to their seats, Lanie gawked in awe. She’d been to a few games with Ethan before, and that first glimpse of the stadium and the pristine field always brought a thrill of excitement; but never had she had seats so good… Box seats, at home plate, third row up. Glancing around, she took it all in: the smell of popcorn, the vendor’s call of “get your peanuts” and “beer here, get your ice cold beer,” the vivid green of the perfectly manicured infield grass, the sound of a ball hitting a leather glove as the players warmed up, and the sight of the world famous 37-foot high left field fence—the Green Monster. It appeared much bigger than it did on TV. A tug on her hand from Ethan, had her moving slowly to the seat next to his.

  “Pretty awesome, huh?” He was watching her and from the huge goofy grin, enjoying the wonder on her face.

  “She’s got that glassy-eyed look of a first timer, Vick,” Ray teased.

  “Yeah, honey, I guess we busted her Fenway cherry.”

  “Victoria!” Ray scolded as his hand clamped over his wife’s mouth, although he wasn’t fast enough to stop the vulgarity from spewing out. “We’re at a ballgame, but there’s no need for such crude speech. There are children around. Pete’s sake, you’re a grandmother and a trial court judge, act like one.”

  At fifty-eight, Vicki could still blush and she did so, quite becomingly. Her muffled “Oops,” was barely intelligible behind Ray’s hand before it slipped away. “I guess I let the excitement go to my head.”

  “And short-circuit your brain” Ray grumbled, still frowning.

  “Sorry, Ethan, Lanie.” She then tried to appease her irritated husband. “Forgive me, honey, I’ll be good for the rest of the game. I swear, so help me God.” Her right hand was raised as if she were giving her oath in court, an attempt at a tease she gave him a saucy wink.

  Lanie and Ethan chuckled softly, but Ray wasn’t so forgiving and merely grunted. Lanie watched the interplay between the other couple with interest as she wondered about their friends. Victoria had mentioned that Ray was old-fashioned.

  Her elbow gently prodded Ethan’s side, catching his attention. When he glanced at her, she nodded at the couple and lifted her brows. He had been watching too, and could only shrug and grin, obviously wondering the same. Why not? They were older, had been married for decades, something was the glue in the mix. She looked on with amusement as Ray whispered something in his wife’s ear and she nodded demurely in response.

  Her eyes switched back to Ethan, who leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I have a hundred bucks that says that naughty wife is getting spanked tonight.”

  Lanie laughed behind her hand and whispered back. “No way! Find another sucker to take that bet. I’m not stupid enough to bet against the obvious.” Leaning up to his ear, she added, “I’ll get the details later and fill you in.”

  “No, thanks. I like Ray and all, but that’s too much information.”

  The public address called for them to stand for the National Anthem and the thirty-seven thousand strong crowd roared with excitement, anxious for the game to begin.

  By the third inning, the game was tied and they thought a pitcher’s dual was at hand, but the Yankees drove in three runs in the top of the fourth. The Sox rallied and came back in the fifth to tie things up again. In the sixth inning, Big Papi cranked a solo blast to right field. The crowd went crazy and the decibel level in the stadium was out the proverbial roof, so high that she had to yell with her lips pressed against Ethan’s ear to be heard.

  By the seventh inning stretch, Lanie and Vicki had to make a bathroom run, although they didn’t want to leave and risk missing a play. After drinki
ng two good sized beers, however, they simply couldn’t put it off any longer. Ethan got up, intent on going with them, but the two women rolled their eyes at him. He relented hesitantly, cautioning them to stay together, needlessly pointing out that the crowd was getting rowdy. Already a few altercations had broken out in the stands amongst fans who’d clearly had too much beer.

  As they climbed the stairs and exited to the concession area, the drop in noise level was a relief. They found the nearest women’s restroom and as expected the line was out the door and well beyond. As they waited, both women observed the door to the men’s room across the way, noting they had no line. Men were moving in and out in no time.

  “This would be an excellent time to have an extra appendage.” Vicki commented wryly as she shifted back and forth.

  In about ten minutes they made it to the inner sanctum and yet another line. There was no room to stand and wait, so Lanie told Vicki she’d meet her right outside the door if she got done first.

  Lanie stood outside watching for Vicki. Several minutes passed. When she still hadn’t come out, she decided to go back in and check on her. Before she took the first step, a hand grabbed her arm and jerked it roughly. Hard fingers dug into her skin and she cried out in pain. Turning to confront whoever it was, she came face to face with Walt Simons.

  “Well, if it ain’t the Ice Bitch!” He literally spat in her face, spittle flying out of his mouth as he spewed each word. Lanie cringed and tried to pull away, but he dragged her to an alcove off to the right.

  “Let me go,” she cried out as a cheer rocked the stadium.

  His malicious laugh sent fear down her spine as he pushed her harshly against the wall, his fingers cruelly digging into both arms as he leaned against her. His foul breath reeked of beer and cigarettes.

  “Get off me, Walt. Don’t make things worse for yourself.”

  “Can’t get no fucking worse thanks to you, cunt.”

  Lanie flinched at his words and shrank away from the red face a mere inch away from her own.

  “Help!” She screamed, struggling. She brought her knee up, but without room or momentum only brushed his thigh. “Someone, help me—”