Michele pushed the food around on her plate before dramatically slouching into the seat.
“There, that’s it!” Paul pointed his finger at her.
“That’s what?”
“Your body language is the perfect example of a typical teenage response. See, you really are a natural at this.” Reclining back into the chair, he beamed with pleasure.
“I don’t know about that.” As Michele savored another sip from her wineglass, her eyes filled with concern that it might be her last drink on a Tuesday for a while. “So, let’s make sure I understand this. During the weekdays, we’re going to role play that you’re the daddy and I’m your teenager.” She paused to think about how this was going to affect their relationship. “Does that mean we’ll only be able to have sex on the weekends?”
“Some things we’ll have to figure out as we go along. After all, it’s our story to write. I’m getting excited just thinking about all the fun we’ll have.”
Michele looked downward and noticed a small tent in his pants. “Yes, I can see that.”
He leaned forward and tipped his head to the side. “So, are we in agreement, my little Michelie?”
“Okay, I’ll admit that I also gave this concept some careful consideration today.” She paused, raising her wineglass in his direction. “Just be aware that I intend for my teenage years to be a lot more fun than they were the first time around.” She emptied the remaining amount of chardonnay in one gulp and winked.
Chapter Two
“You seem a little pensive this beautiful Saturday morning,” Dave observed before eagerly digging into his hash browns as they sat in the men’s grill room of their country club.
“Maybe it’s because you keep nailing me for twenty bucks every weekend on the golf course. You’d think I’d be smart enough to ask for more strokes,” Paul retorted, peering at his friend through narrowed eyes.
“Maybe a few lessons are in order. I can help with that.”
“Yeah, your help is what got me into this position. I think I’ll go see our pro after the round today.” Paul picked randomly at his scrambled eggs.
Dave leaned in closer. “Come on. I don’t think your golf game is the issue. What else is on your mind?”
“My patient load is heavy right now with the economy the way it is. There are a lot of worried people out there, and having someone to talk with outside the family eases their concerns. It’s gratifying when I can help folks through some of the tough times. And Michele just started back to school. We even—” The waiter interrupted by refilling their coffee cups.
“Thanks, Ray,” Dave said before returning his attention to Paul. “You know our wholesaler food business is down right now. People aren’t eating out as much, and my customers are cutting back on their orders. So the success in your practice is the inverse to my sales chart.”
“Dave, it’ll get better.”
“I’m not worried. Your twenty-dollar contribution every week continues to put bacon on the table,” Dave joked as he took a sip of his coffee. “Weren’t you about to tell me something about Michele before Ray came over to the table?”
“Just out of curiosity, have you and Marsha ever spiced up your marriage with a little role play?” Paul wiped his mouth as Dave choked on his coffee. “It’s pretty natural, my friend,” Paul said, patting him on the back. “I’ve recommended it in a few of my couples therapy sessions. It has the ability to relieve some sexual tension and can be a lot of fun.”
“Why in the hell are you bringing this up now? Geez—are you trying to throw off my game today?” Dave asked in between coughs.
“Relax, I’m more curious than devious.”
Dave looked around the grill room to see who else might be within earshot. “If you must know, we did enjoy that kind of thing before the kids were born. Sometimes, Marsha would dress for the part in costume. Is that what you’re talking about?” he asked in a hushed tone.
Paul nodded and smiled.
“Sure, we’ve indulged from time to time, but it’s been quite a while. Jesus, what’s up with you today? This isn’t exactly the kind of conversation we usually have before a round of golf.”
Paul waited for Ray to clear the table. “Dave, are you aware of the kind of relationship Michele and I agreed to before we were married?”
“Have you met my wife?” he asked facetiously. “Of course, Marsha has filled me in on all the details.” Dave leaned in close to speak quietly. “I don’t think that way of life could exist in my household. But to each their own, I always say.”
“Honestly, we’ve both been so busy—our lifestyle faded out. So to liven things up, we’ve decided to revive it and add a new dimension.”
Dave put up his hand. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to swing. I couldn’t handle the stories.”
Paul laughed. “No, we’re not into that. Have you ever heard of age-play?”
“Yes, I’m familiar. Why?”
“We’ve decided that Michele is going to play the part of a teenager during the week.”
“And I assume you’ll be the daddy?”
He nodded.
“Hey, if you think this is going to liven up your marriage, then who am I to argue?” He chuckled and elbowed his friend. “And if Michele needs any tips on how to be bratty, she can call any of the women in my family. We can set up a hotline,” he joked.
Paul knew before he started the conversation that Dave would be supportive—good friends always were. Quickly, he peered at the clock on the wall. “I guess it’s time for my weekly thrashing, Dave. Shall I pay in advance?”
* * *
“Michele!” Marsha Kurls exclaimed in a loud voice. “It isn’t like you to be on time, missy. Should I be worried?” she asked, hugging her young friend in the middle of their favorite diner.
Michele laughed as she squeezed her friend tightly. “No worries. I just wanted plenty of time to visit with my best buddy, that’s all.”
Marsha shook a finger at her as they were seated in a corner booth. “Come on, I know you better than that.” She accepted a menu from the hostess and smiled in appreciation.
Michele picked up her tightly wrapped bundle of utensils and carefully unrolled the contents. “Okay, there is something I wouldn’t mind sharing today, but first I need a cup of coffee.”
“Agreed.” Marsha nodded as their server approached with two steaming pots. “Thanks. We’ll both have the high octane, and you can keep it coming. We plan to be here for a while,” she said, throwing a friendly wink.
When Michele made sure the older waitress was out of earshot, she reached for the creamer and sighed. “I have so much to tell you.”
“I knew it,” Marsha answered with one eyebrow raised and instantly beckoned with a curved finger to their server, who was more than happy to rush over. After she walked away, Marsha leaned in close to her friend. “Spill, please.”
“God, I don’t know where to start.”
“The beginning is usually best, and lucky for you, I’m free all day.”
Michele cleared her throat and swallowed hard. “No, this time I’m going straight for the punchline.”
“That would be a different approach for you,” Marsha said facetiously with a smile.
Michele rolled her eyes before speaking. “You know Paul and I agreed to a domestic discipline lifestyle before we were married.”
“But you haven’t been participating lately, right?”
Michele nervously rearranged her silverware. “Well, now he wants to bring the rules back.” She hesitated before speaking again. “In spades.”
Marsha’s elbow touched the table as she moved in closer. “What in the hell does that mean?”
Michele took a deep breath. “He wants to pay more attention to me and liven things up with role play during the week.”
“Role play? Does he want you to play the part of a hooker? Dave and I did that once on a vacation in Bermuda. Oh, my God, we had so much fun at the bar that night. I didn
’t have any panties on, and he got so excited in the elevator…”
Michele held up one hand to stop her. “Marsha, please. I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.”
“Sorry,” she whispered through a lopsided smile. “So, what kind of role play are you talking about?”
“Paul wants me to play the part of a teenager.”
“Why in God’s name would he want that? I live with teenagers, and they can be really annoying.”
“On top of our original DD arrangement, just imagine the additional rules and punishment opportunities,” Michele said, crossing her arms and leaning back into the chair.
“He is a psychiatrist, so it might go deeper. Paul certainly has the capability to travel that route.”
Michele nodded thoughtfully. “Especially since I’ve been extremely stressed lately with school back in session. He probably thinks acting out some of my frustrations might alleviate other emotional pressures. And who is more dramatic than a teenager?”
“Hmm.” Marsha contemplated the possibilities and leaned forward. “It sounds kind of kinky, too.” She tilted her head and smiled. “So why the unhappy face? I’m sure he wouldn’t expect you to indulge unless you were on board with this. Did you agree?”
“I did agree. And just for the record—I’m nervous, not unhappy. There’s a difference.”
“Of course there is.” Marsha grinned and patted Michele’s arm. “Hold your next thought, here comes our breakfast.”
After their steaming, full plates were served, Michele eagerly picked up a crispy slice of bacon while Marsha’s eyes stared a hole through her.
“What?” Michele innocently asked while savoring the smoky flavor.
“For God’s sake. You know I want details. Did this kinky new lifestyle of yours begin yet?”
“Yeah, it started.” Michele’s face blushed red at the thought as she wiped her hands on a napkin.
“Well? You can’t bring this up and not share details, missy!”
Michele lifted a piece of buttered toast. “Jesus. I really intended to share more with you. But it’s just too damn embarrassing.” Her face radiated with heat.
Marsha took a sip of her coffee. “I’ll bet if you teased Paul like this, your backside would be draped over his knee.”
“Bare backside,” she corrected casually, reaching for the basket of assorted jams.
* * *
It was around noon the next day when Michele’s car pulled into their garage. Paul stood at the door with his arms crossed, waiting for her to walk into their kitchen.
“Hey, I didn’t expect you to be home so soon. How was your golf game today? Was it better than yesterday? Do you owe Kurls more money?” The questions quickly spilled from her mouth one after another as she stood with a few grocery bags in hand.
“I decided to come straight home instead of socializing in the men’s grill room.”
“But you love to have a beer with the guys after a game of Sunday morning golf.”
“And I intended to when I left the house this morning, but changed my mind when I ran into Kevin Sippora. You remember him, Dr. Kevin Sippora?”
“Yes, I know who he is,” Michele answered sheepishly, but then changed her tone. “Hey, whatever happened to a little thing called patient confidentiality?”
“Kevin just wanted to know how you were, since you didn’t keep your appointment with him yesterday. It seems you were running a high fever that came on suddenly, which is why you cancelled at the last minute. Of course, he isn’t going to charge you for not observing the twenty-four-hour cancellation policy since you were so ill,” he said sarcastically, inclining his head toward her.
After backing up, she quickly turned to place the grocery bags on the counter.
“I’m waiting.” His tone was stern but eerily soft.
“I’m sorry, Paul. I know all about the cancellation policy and how much it disrupts the doctor’s schedule when patients don’t adhere to the rules, b-but I—”
“Take your time, kitten. I can’t wait to hear the latest excuse of why you cancelled your yearly exam with the gynecologist.” Paul stared at the ceiling as he placed his hands in his pockets. “If you don’t like him, we certainly can find another doctor.”
“No, it’s not that,” she said, turning around. “He’s very nice and I’m comfortable with him.”
“Is it because he belongs to the same golf club we do? You understand we’re not friends—only acquaintances. Unfortunately, I have contact with a lot of physicians in this town.”
“I don’t mind that you know him.”
“What’s the problem then? We seem to go through this every year and you know how important your gynecological exam is.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She pivoted to open the refrigerator door, but Paul stopped her.
“This conversation is not over. You need to have that exam, and I want to know why you lied about not going.”
Michele shrugged her slight shoulders. Even though they weren’t role playing, Paul knew she often felt like a little girl when he scolded her.
“Out with it,” he insisted.
“Fine. The exam is embarrassing, no matter which doctor performs it. Especially the last part. It’s the worst.” She rolled her eyes and covered her reddened face with both hands.
“Are you talking about the rectal exam, sweetie?”
She nodded and squinted her eyes.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling his wife close to whisper in her ear. “I understand why that’s so embarrassing, but since you’ve lied and been secretive about something that’s so important to your health, I promise your yearly exam won’t compare to what I have planned for you.” His eyes glittered as he raised his finger and pointed upward. “March your little fanny upstairs and into our bedroom.” After performing a quick swivel to her body, he applied his hard palm to her soft bottom. “Now.”
* * *
Michele walked into their bedroom and blinked twice. The bed had been stripped of the puffy duvet and their colorful sheets had been replaced with a brand new, crisp white one. Strategically placed on top of the tightly fitted fabric was a disposable square sheet of blue plastic. Staring in disbelief across the room, she saw their end table that once held her Kindle and a night lamp now displayed a box of latex gloves and large jar of lubricant with a rectal thermometer sticking out in the middle of it. With her mind reeling, she didn’t hear Paul quietly approach her from behind.
“Take all your clothes off and put this on. I want it open in the back,” Paul instructed, holding a short blue cotton dressing gown with a paisley print.
“You can’t be serious.”
He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.
“Never mind, I see that you are,” she deadpanned.
After grabbing the flimsy-looking gown, she unbuttoned and slid her jeans down before stepping out of them. Bending over, she made sure her husband had a good view of her bottom and seductively wiggled it before placing the pants on the chair beside the bed.
Paul stood motionless, watching his wife take off her shirt and bra as he patiently waited for her to slip into the light blue gown.
“Where in the hell did you get this stunning schmata? Used Gowns R Us?” Her blue eyes rolled as her hind end felt a cool breeze wafting down from the ceiling fan.
“Turn around, please.”
Michele swiveled and closed her eyes as Paul’s large palm cracked loudly across her soft backside. “Ouch! What was that for?”
“Maybe I wasn’t clear when I asked for all your clothes to come off. Slide. Those. Panties. Down,” he said, enunciating each word slowly. “Then you can make yourself comfortable on the bed raising your bottom nice and high for me. I’m going to take your temperature.”
“Jesus,” she growled.
“Excuse me? Do you really think this is a good time for sass, young lady?”
“No, sir,” she mumbled, lowering her panties before getting into the embarrassing pos
ition on the bed.
Paul rubbed and patted her backside. “I’m going to tan your hide good and red for canceling your appointment and lying to Dr. Sippora’s receptionist. But that will come later.”
“I can hardly wait,” Michele said facetiously under her breath, raising her ass high in the air before turning her warm cheek onto the covered mattress. She really had more to say, but decided he’d probably heard enough as she watched him walk over to the night table to prepare the thermometer.
“You might want to lose the attitude,” Paul suggested as he approached with the dreaded implement that was about to invade her rectum.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this. Do I need to remind you that adults don’t have their temperature taken this way?”
“I did go to medical school and am well aware of the proper way to take a temperature. But since you acted like a baby, I’ve decided to treat you like one. Now, let’s see if you really do have a fever, shall we?”
“Oohh!” Michele squealed and squirmed as the slick, cool bulbous tip of the thermometer slid into her anus effortlessly, followed by the rest of the slippery glass sliding in slow and deep. There was no pain involved, but the embarrassment of having her temperature taken rectally by her husband made it difficult for her body to remain in position.
Paul held the thermometer with one hand and stilled her bottom with the other. “Try to relax. It will only be in for a few more minutes,” he promised, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger.
His Firm Hand Page 2