Heart Song Anthology

by Carolyn Faulkner

  I sat down on the floor and started telling poor old Charlie the truth, starting with what a sap he’d been all these years, for falling for Janet’s crap. She was rich, successful, and she hated men about as much as your average flea hates your average dog. What she’d hated was being put in her place, and he – eighteen-year-old Charlie Hanson – was apparently the only man in the history of the world who’d ever had the balls to do it.

  Charlie seemed to like that, a lot.

  It snowed all that night and the next day. There was only one fireplace, so to keep warm, we all had to sleep in the living room, huddled together under every blanket we could find in the house. I didn’t mind, actually, because I wasn’t especially eager to be alone with my husband. Everything that could have gone wrong with Sandy’s and my attempt at matchmaking had already gone wrong, but the weekend was still young, and Neil knew that I’d lied to him. Even the little black satin nightgown wasn’t going to save my butt. Sexy lingerie would only make access to that lying butt easier. I walked around all weekend in a heavy jogging suit. Why risk a chance encounter in a dark hall, right?

  One good thing about being stuck for God only knows how long in a small cabin with someone you can’t stand is... Okay, so there’s nothing good about it. But there can be something interesting about it, if you’re lucky.

  Charlie stayed pretty quiet, and Janet stayed sullen and hostile, but non-violent. No one had any fun, or any sex, of course. It wasn’t the best Valentine’s Day I’d ever spent, but it was certainly the most boring – until Monday morning, when the snow stopped and the sun came out. We had all started packing and quarreling over who had to take Janet home. I argued that Neil and I had brought her, so someone else could damned well take her back – or leave her there for the wolves, for all I cared. We’d take Charlie. We were still in a heated discussion about Janet when several piercing screams came from Janet’s room at the back of the cabin. The shrieking was punctuated by shouts in a loud, gruff voice bearing a thick, Italian accent – Dominic, the furnace guy, with whom I’d already spent two nights in close, garlic-scented proximity, under a handmade quilt. Dominic weighed in at around three hundred and fifty pounds, but it was mostly muscle, except for a truly phenomenal beer belly.

  Neil was the first one down the hall, and he took out the door like a true street cop, with one solid kick. We all piled into the room in back of him and looked inside the bathroom, where Dominic had been working on a pipe. He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, now, with his great knees parted and his prodigious stomach trying to burst out of his flannel work shirt. Janet was sprawled across his widespread knees, with her hair hopelessly tangled and black mascara running down her cheeks. She was stark naked except for a pair of satin thong panties that drooped around her ankles, and there’s really no polite way of saying this, but Janet’s ample butt was the color of a big, ripe tomato – two ripe tomatoes, actually. And although Janet was still screeching, it was obvious that Dominic the furnace guy had already finished his work. He had just done a workmanlike job of setting Janet’s ass on fire – with his big, callused hand.

  “All I come in here for was to check the pipes,” Dominic explained, dumping Janet unceremoniously into the bathtub. “But this one here starts in smackin’ me over the head with her pocketbook and callin’ me a pig and yellin’ to get the fuck out. She ain’t got no respect, is what it is. A good husband woulda fixed that kinda crap real quick. One of you fellas her husband?”

  All the fellas lucky enough to not be Janet’s husband shook their heads and backed out of the bathroom politely. Like the gentlemen they were, they all averted their eyes as they left, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to grab a look at Janet’s flaming buttocks. All except Charlie, who stood in the doorway and studied the scene for a full minute, ignoring Janet’s shrieks to get the fuck out and close the fucking door. Janet had always had a way with words.

  The ride home was quiet. Neil drove, Charlie slept most of the way, and I pretended to sleep. I was wondering what it was like for Joe and Sandy, having to drive Janet all the way back to the city. And then I began wondering how long it would be before Neil and I had our own little discussion about the hideous weekend.

  It took just under nine minutes. Three minutes to park in the garage and close the garage door. Three minutes to haul our bags inside, and three minutes for Neil to take off his coat and settle himself comfortably on the side of the bed. At that point, I began backing up. Maybe I was hoping to get to the door and make a run for it, and maybe I was just trying to put off the inevitable for as long as possible. But the truth is, I never actually run from being spanked. In the first place, there’s not much point. It’s not so much that Neil can outrun me, which he can, of course. He’s just extremely patient. And if he has to sit there and wait for me to come back and face the medicine, he will, for as long as it takes. And I’ve always figured that while he’s waiting, he’s gaining strength, and probably thinking about adding a few more swats to the grand total he originally had in mind. So, that night, I wasn’t trying to run away from a spanking. I was trying to summon the courage to stay there and face what I knew without one tiny little shred of a doubt was going to be a hard spanking. A very hard spanking. A monumental spanking. A spanking for the ages, maybe.

  And guess what? I was absolutely right.

  You see, most of the time, my spankings are on the symbolic side. Embarrassing and unpleasant, and always painful enough to get my complete attention, but by no means unbearable. Even my yelps are more for Neil’s benefit than anything else, not that he’s ever been fooled. We both know the rules, though. Just about the time I reach the point of squirming and yelping for real, Neil usually delivers one or two really serious smacks, and then stops. The lingering sting in my rear is sufficient to get his point across, and to make me not risk a repeat performance right away.

  But occasionally, the rules change. And on these occasions, we both know it. I usually know it because Neil starts to remove his belt, or finds himself a weapon – usually my wooden hairbrush.

  These spankings are different. They’re longer, harder, and there’s very little discussion during them. No joking around or smart aleck remarks on my part. Because it’s not funny, and it hurts. We both know our parts in this little domestic drama. Neil is genuinely upset, and I’m genuinely sorry about whatever it is I’ve done. When it’s over, I believe that in some way, we both feel better – or maybe just emotionally exhausted.

  In a few seconds, Neil not only divested me entirely of my sweatpants and panties, and arranged me in a thoroughly unattractive position, he also managed to reach into the bedside table and find my hairbrush – with one hand. It was a feat of dexterity that might have been truly astonishing, if I’d been in the frame of mind to appreciate it.

  Neil can be the gentlest man on the face of the earth, and most of the time, he is. That night, though, not so much. I lost count of the swats, but I think it may have been close to a record. It wasn’t even close to the worst I’ve ever had, of course, and I’m reasonably sure it won’t be the worst one I can look forward to, but for a spur of the moment effort, it was quite respectable – and highly memorable. You have to give the man credit. He knows what he’s doing, hairbrush-wise. That night, I was in flames from mid-butt to mid-thigh, howling at the top of my lungs, and fairly begging for mercy, but by morning, there wasn’t a bruise or a welt in sight. A true aficionado of the art of domestic discipline.

  At one in the morning, I was still sniffling, and Neil took me in his arms and apologized – sort of. Well, what he actually said, (after I yelped when he touched me) was, “I’m sorry you had to take the whole blame for this. It’s too bad Joe doesn’t have this arrangement with Sandy. From what you tell me, this was as much her idea as it was yours.” That’s kind of an apology, don’t you think? I hope so, because if it wasn’t, I sold out my principles, that night, big-time. After all, I hadn’t gotten to wear the little black nightgown. Anyway, the more Neil talk
ed, the more I sniffled, and the more I sniffled, the harder Neil tried to comfort me. Anyway, one thing led to another, and before I could stop myself, I had allowed Cupid, or Saint Valentine, or whomever, to do his thing – on me. So, we did celebrate Valentine’s Day – a little late, and not in the traditional manner. I didn’t get the usual box of chocolates, which was just as well. I’d have polished off the whole box in two days, and then gone into a weeklong depression about my weight. I never got to wear my black satin lingerie, which according to Neil, at least, was a good thing, since that might very well have distracted him from his mission. (Uh! And that would be a bad thing, why?)

  There is some news, though. In all the uproar, I neglected to warn Neil to take certain marital precautions made necessary by the fact that I had, once again, screwed up on my birth control pills. After the fact, I decided against mentioning my little memory lapse, since that would definitely have resulted in a quick repeat trip across his knee.

  Anyway, it seems we may have to repaint the den. I won’t know for sure for a couple of weeks, of course, but I’m thinking maybe Winnie the Pooh would be nice, this time.

  The End.

  April Hill

  April Hill is a best-selling author of women’s romance, known for her wry humor, sensitive character development and of course, the love.

  Connect with her on Facebook:

  https://www.facebook.com/april.hill.3150

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  Char Cauley

  Chapter 1

  Ike

  He woke to his pain. His devil prodded him to sit up. Causing him more pain. He knew if he didn’t do as she said, she would get help and he would be forced. Better to have some pride and try and do it for himself. The evil one would help him. The pain speared his side as he moaned, his eyes still closed. He could smell her soft perfume. The smell of fresh roses reminded him of his mother’s table. Oh, to be a boy again. Not to have any cares but that of doing what his parents wanted. His nemesis spoke softly in his ear.

  “You can do this, Soldier.” She put her head under his right arm to take his weight across her shoulders and helped him slowly hobble to the bathroom. This was a new routine, as he’d healed enough to finally leave his bed. Several ribs were broken, his left arm was in a sling, his right ankle smashed, put together again and secured in a cast up to his knee.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, he walked towards the bathroom. Trying not to jar any part of his battered body. His eye always on the goal. Finally, after reaching the sink, he gave the evil one a growl.

  She scurried away, leaving the door open as she put fresh bedding on his bed. It would feel good and smell faintly of roses when she was finished. He quickly finished his business. After lowering the lid, he sat. Sweat beading on his forehead as he watched her efficiently finishing the bed and plumping his pillows.

  “Do you want to sit in your chair and maybe watch a little TV while I check your bandages?” she taunted him. Knowing full well all he wanted was the magic shot that would send him back to the darkness and no pain. They had stopped giving him that now. Instead, insisting on giving him a pill that barely took the edge off. He had too much pride to let her see him as any weaker than she already had.

  “Sure.” His voice sounded raspy even to him.

  She walked over and helped him hobble to the chair, giving him the remote as he sat on the edge of the seat while she unwrapped the bandages that bound his healing ribs. She tsked while she gently poked them.

  He looked down. He could barely see the bruises that not long ago were so dark and covered his entire chest.

  She gently rewrapped his ribs in clean bandages before she left him to bring in his lunch. The foulest of gruel. She pushed the table to him as she shook out two of the magic pills that gave him relief. After handing him the juice and the pills she stood back as she watched him take them. The news was on. He didn’t want to see. He quickly finished his food and pushed the table away as he stood on his own. The evil one frowned at him, wanting to argue with him and he smirked at her, happy he had gotten the best of her as he hobbled the few steps to the bed.

  She helped him lift his encased foot as he got in, closing his eyes. Soon sleep would come – until dinner when the evil one returned to torment him.

  The dream returned. They were in the desert. He and his best friend Shaun were on a mission to find some insurgents hiding near the base of the Spin Ghar mountain range the natural barrier between Pakistan and Afghanistan. They were to observe and report back. No contact.

  They were riding in an armored jeep traveling along a dirt path that led to the supposed camp when they hit a land mine. He was thrown from the jeep, landing on the rocky terrain while the jeep with Shaun trapped inside flew through the air, rolling several times. Ike moaned as the dream replayed the mission. He had to help Shaun. The pain, the blackness coming to claim him. He had to stay awake, had to help Shaun. He yelled to him, hoping to rouse him when he saw that Shaun was unconscious and hanging upside down in the seat belt, unable to get out.

  Suddenly from behind the rocks came the enemy. Yelling war cries and brandishing weapons, they would be within firing range in a very few minutes. The horror running like ice through his veins banished the pain as he tried to stand and couldn’t. He crawled to the jeep, which was upside down, and cut Shaun loose, trying to ease his fall to the ground. Then he reached for his machine gun, which was secured in the back of the jeep. He unhooked it as the enemy came within range. They put their guns to their shoulders, ready to shoot, as he picked up the machine gun and began spitting bullets at them. He groaned again as he remembered the rage as he continued shooting until every one of them lay dead amid the dirt and rocks.

  His radio was damaged by the blast, so he crawled under the jeep and used Shaun’s, calling for help and medics, before losing consciousness.

  The dream faded into uneasy sleep, the pain, while kept at a distance by the magic pills, would not completely release its grip on him. Pain had been his constant companion since he woke in a hospital and was shipped home. He had been at this veterans hospital stateside for almost a month now. His friend Shaun had not been hurt as badly, protected by the roll bar on the jeep, and had been released a couple weeks earlier.

  Ike woke suddenly, looking around the darkened room until he recognized it from his hospital bed. He ran his good hand through his hair as he gathered himself, and then tried to sit up. But he failed, just as his tormenter entered his room, and saw his efforts.

  She ran over to help him. Putting the pillows behind him, she sat on the side of the bed. She knew he’d had a bad dream again. She understood he needed her. She gathered him in her arms and let him cry as the feeling of helplessness overcame him. She let him cry until with a shudder he
pulled away, wiping his eyes in embarrassment. She smiled kindly.

  Mindy had been a nurse at the vets hospital in New York for a couple years. She had seen many soldiers come in broken in body and mind. She knew he wanted to know about his friend. “Your friend Shaun has called. He wants to come and visit you. Would it be all right if I told him to come by tomorrow?”

  Ike looked up at her, sometimes this demon tormentor was an angel. How did she know he wanted to see Shaun and be reassured that he was safe? “Tell him to give me a couple days, okay?”

  Mindy nodded and stood to turn on the light and open the shades.

  “No! I like it dark. The sun hurts my eyes.”

  Mindy nodded agreeably. “May I turn on the small light in the corner? Just enough so you can see to eat and take your pain pill?”

  “I will eat but I want to try without the pain pill.” He needed to start weaning himself off the meds; didn’t want his friend to see him all doped up.

  “Of course. If you need it, just call for me. I get off duty in a few minutes but one of the other nurses will help you.”

  Ike smiled to himself as he gently sniffed in the smell of roses. She was a cute little thing. Five foot nothing and maybe one hundred ten pounds all in the right places. Long brown hair and the brightest blue eyes.

  He thanked her as she helped him into the bathroom and then his chair, same as always, before she uncovered his meal. He looked it over. This was palatable enough, he supposed.

  Humming a light little tune, she freshened his bedding while he ate.

  Dinner music, he thought sarcastically, but acknowledged that it brightened his day a little.

  As she took his tray away, he hobbled to the bed when her back was turned. She scowled at him and he smirked at her. It had become a game of sorts between them.