His Firm Hand

by Shelly Douglas

  * * *

  The day passed quickly, and after a mind-numbing assessment on her way home, Michele finally decided that her best tactic was to act as though the morning conversation with her husband had never happened. Pulling into the driveway, she noticed their little red Miata was already parked on the other side of the garage.

  Slowly opening the kitchen door, she heard a chopping sound accompanied by a tune she couldn’t quite discern. Well, he’s whistling and cooking, so that’s always a good sign. Quietly, she approached him from behind and whispered in his ear, “The house smells awfully good, daddy.”

  His back straightened, reacting to the initial surprise. “Whoa, my rendition of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly theme song must have been pretty loud to not hear you come in. So, how was your day, and did you give some thought to what we discussed this morning?”

  Michele stood frozen with a smile. “My day was just fine, no more tiring than usual. Do you mind if I shower before dinner?”

  “Sure, but make it quick. Dinner should be ready soon, and we need to have that discussion.”

  “Which one?”

  He put the chopping knife down on the counter and slowly turned to face her. “You know—the one you’re trying to avoid.”

  Michele steeled the grin on her face, pivoted, and walked out of the kitchen. “I can’t get away with anything in this house!” she yelled with teenage gusto.

  After a quick shower, Michele padded back downstairs, dressed in her new Sheepy-Time pajamas that Paul had surprised her with the other day. They were the perfect teenage cozy flannel jammies with a button-down top and an elastic lower half adorned with adorable gray and white sheep. After thanking him for the purchase, she was immediately informed that he expected her tushy to be bare underneath the bottoms!

  Peeking around the corner, she saw that Paul was still preoccupied with dinner preparation. Sneaking up behind him for the second time that afternoon, she gently poked him in the back. He stood up straight and twirled around quickly. “Are you trying to send me to an early grave?”

  Michele displayed her best pouty lips. “Chill. I was just trying to have some fun.”

  “Try not to scare your daddy when he’s slaving over the stove, eh?” He put down the hot pan and gave her a big hug. “My, aren’t we looking nice and snuggly tonight. Do you like your new PJs?”

  “Are you kidding? I love them!”

  “Good. Have a seat, I think our lasagna is ready.” After setting the salad on the table along with a basket of warm Italian bread, he stepped back over to the oven and opened the door. A waft of hot air flowed, carrying the aroma of ricotta and mozzarella cheese as Paul lowered the bubbling dish on an iron trivet in the middle of the table.

  “Here, let me help you.” Paul placed a generous portion of salad onto her plate before continuing with a large spoonful of the steaming lasagna.

  “Thanks.” Michele waited patiently to start eating until he sat down and served himself.

  “My pleasure. Now, did you give any more thought to how we should spend Thanksgiving this year?” As he looked over at her, his eyebrows slowly knit together.

  Michele pushed the salad around her plate, trying to collect a few thoughts. Staring downward, she finally mumbled, “If we’re going to host a Thanksgiving dinner, I’d rather limit the number of guests. It would be easier on both of us.”

  “Do you want to only invite your sister and parents? We can do that, but I’d feel bad, especially since the Kurlses don’t have any extended family in the area.”

  Michele abruptly threw herself back in her chair and crossed her arms in an act of defiance. “Come on, you know exactly what I meant.”

  Paul cocked his head to the side and leaned closer. “I’m not so sure I do, baby doll. Maybe you should clarify.”

  Michele’s blue eyes darkened as they looked directly into his. “I’d prefer to not invite my parents… you know, my real parents?”

  “Tell me why, so I understand.”

  “Jesus, Dr. Fazio. My dad makes me feel uncomfortable and I want to be relaxed in my own home on Thanksgiving. There, I said it! Are you happy now?”

  Paul slowly set his fork down and cupped her chin in his large hand. “Michele, there wasn’t any overt attempt on my part to cause you anxiety. If you took it that way, I apologize.” His even tone was soft and sincere.

  She dramatically rolled her eyes. “There you go again with your psychiatric bullshit trying to patronize me. Damn, it’s so condescending.” Michele turned her body to the side and quickly looked back over her shoulder. “I’m not a little kid… I know exactly what you’re doing.”

  “Well, you’re certainly acting like a spoiled one right now. Is this how you really feel, or are we engaging in role play? Sometimes, it’s hard for me to tell.”

  Michele took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. “Damn, these flannel pajamas are really making me hot.” She suddenly began to flutter the top in and out to force cooler air inside. Paul remained silent and gave her a chance to calm down. “Whew, that’s better.” Michele rotated back around in her chair, inhaling deeply. “Do we really have to talk about this now?”

  Paul touched the white napkin to his mouth, and after slowly placing his elbows on the table, steepled his fingers together.

  “Oh, God, what are you thinking now?”

  “It just occurred to me that we’ve been married for almost three years, and I haven’t made any effort to see your parents on my own. Maybe I should.”

  Michele’s smile was wry. “Hmm. This epiphany just came to you?”

  He shook his head. “Obviously, our discussion isn’t going anywhere right now, so let’s table it for a couple of days.”

  “Okay.”

  “Are we in agreement to at least invite your sister, her boyfriend, and the Kurlses?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Your one-word teenage vocabulary is impressive. If you start texting me from across the table, I’ll know we’ve reached an all-time low in our relationship,” he joked.

  The right side of Michele’s mouth curled upward, and Paul strummed his thick fingers on the table.

  “I know that look. You’re cooking something devious up, aren’t you?”

  “Nope. I’m fresh out of ideas, so eat your lasagna—it’s getting cold.” He looked up at the ceiling with a devilish smile. “Well, I must admit, there is one more thought left in my brain.”

  “Really?” she retorted.

  “Yes. You see, I have this strong urge to yank your pajama bottoms down and take you over my lap for a swift, sound spanking. Whether we’re age-playing or not, I think sitting on a sizzling backside might do you some good right now. If nothing else, maybe it will remind you to clean up your language and be a little more respectful of the man who just cooked and served you dinner. What do you think of that idea, princess?”

  “No, thanks, I’d rather eat this delicious lasagna while it’s still warm.”

  “Ahh, we’re back to full sentences,” he said, lifting an eyebrow.

  * * *

  Dressed in a long brown robe, Paul sat at his desk and stared at the computer screen.

  Standing in the doorway, Michele knocked faintly on the wall. “Can I come in, please?”

  Paul swiveled in his large high-backed leather chair and opened his arms toward her. “Of course you can.”

  She approached him slowly and climbed into his lap. “I know you encourage me to release my frustrations during these teenage scenes, but the lines became kind of blurred tonight. I really treated you unfairly, and I’m sorry for the way I acted.”

  “It’s okay. I had a feeling my Thanksgiving proposal of dining with your family wasn’t going to fare well. I just wish you would give me more background on the relationship you have with your dad. I’m treading on delicate ground here.”

  “I thought when we got married, some of my issues would go away.”

  “Deep-rooted feelings don’t just disappear, baby doll.
Sometimes we have to deal with them.”

  “At first I thought our domestic discipline lifestyle would help. You know, the loving discipline and attention I never had—”

  “Until I dropped the ball.”

  “And then out of nowhere you suggest this age-play stuff.” She laughed. “I thought it might be fun and cathartic, until you stepped on a landmine this morning.” She buried her face in his neck and sighed.

  “When I suggested your parents be our guests for Thanksgiving dinner?”

  “I know it’s only Monday, but I really need my husband tonight. Can we break the rules?” she asked in a muffled tone.

  He pulled Michele’s face away from his neck with both hands and gently nibbled her lips, slipping his tongue inside to savor her sweet taste. “You won’t have to ask twice,” he said, fervently pressing his mouth against hers as his hand crept down the front of her pajama bottoms.

  Feeling the pad of his finger travel the crease of her moist pussy, she broke from his kiss and smiled downward at the sight of his hard cock poking her soft belly through the opening in the fuzzy robe. “I think someone else wants to break the rules, too.”

  Kissing her nose and returning the smile, his other hand traveled under her pajama top, brushing a thumbnail over each hard, sensitive nipple as he watched her wriggle with each swipe. “Does this hurt?” he asked with a devilish smile.

  “Mmm, I can hardly stand the pain.” She giggled, tilted her head back and closed her eyes as his finger rounded and rubbed full circles around her hardening clit.

  “You’re so wet, my little kitten. Just relax, I want to watch you enjoy every minute of this,” he whispered, slowly moving his finger up and down the length of her slippery, swollen slit.

  “Oooh.” Her clit twitched and pulsated as his thick digit finally delved inside her warm, wet passage, moving in and out. “You’re still teasing me and I want more.”

  “Is this what you want?” Moving his robe aside, he took the edge of his swollen cock and repositioned himself, softly stroked her sopping wet pussy lips. Michele gasped as he pushed inside her fleshy labia, quickly plunging deep into her hot depths. Clinging onto his neck, she threw her head back and moaned as he lifted her hips, and moved her up and down on his stiff cock.

  “Harder, I want it harder.” Her body trembled as she moved upward to meet his deep-seated thrusts over and over again, until he sealed his lips completely over hers. No one needed to speak. She arched her back and their muscles convulsed simultaneously, whirling them into flashing lights of pure ecstasy as his seed exploded deep inside her.

  “I think you’ll make a wonderful father… someday.” Feeling him soften inside her, she traced the dark stubble on his chin with one finger as she admired his handsome square jaw.

  “And one day, you will make a loving, sensitive mother.”

  She gazed at him with soulful eyes.

  “Michele, I hope you aren’t discouraged that it hasn’t happened yet.”

  “Are you disappointed?”

  “No, sweetie, we have plenty of time. I’m happy to have you all to myself, right now.”

  She nodded and sighed as he kissed the top of her head.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next day, Paul got comfortable in a corner booth and sipped on a cup of coffee awaiting his father-in-law’s arrival. Fiddling with a newspaper, his mind was elsewhere. He had told Michele of his intention to visit with her parents, but never said it would happen this soon, or that it would only be with her dad. And to make matters even more uncomfortable, he didn’t know Charles ‘Chuck’ Pearson all that well. Paul blamed himself to a certain degree for that and hoped this impromptu meeting might strengthen their relationship. As he continued to mindlessly leaf through the paper, Chuck walked over to the table.

  Paul immediately stood up, gave his father-in-law a hearty handshake, and motioned for him to sit down. “I’m thrilled you could meet me on such short notice.”

  Chuck waved a waitress over and smiled. “I’ll have a cup of coffee too, please,” he said in a deep baritone voice that resonated throughout the entire room. He was a large man who stood about 6′3″, had broad shoulders, and by Paul’s estimation weighed a solid two hundred pounds. Chuck had retired from the railroad as an engineer just prior to Michele being married, and as far as Paul knew, the man didn’t have many outside activities. He knew that Chuck played an occasional round of golf, did a little woodworking, and spent the rest of his time watching sports on a sixty-inch screen. Marianne, his wife, had basically raised their girls by herself.

  “How’s Marianne?” Paul asked, folding the paper and setting it aside.

  “I’m not sure what I would do without that woman. She’s on top of everything. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have a social life and might be dead broke. Honestly, she was surprised that I was meeting you today and wanted to know why she wasn’t invited.”

  A look of concern came over Paul’s face. “I didn’t mean to offend her.”

  Chuck waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, don’t give it another thought. She was just afraid that something might be wrong with Michele. She’s okay, right?” Now it was Chuck who displayed a worried expression, raising two bushy white eyebrows.

  Their waitress finally returned with a steaming mug of coffee for Chuck and a full pot in her other hand. Paul mouthed “thank you” as he extended his cup for a refill. “Oh, no, nothing serious, but—”

  “Did you know that I left Michele a voice message on Halloween, and never heard back from her? I don’t pretend to be the best communicator, but she could have at least returned my call.” Chuck’s burly hands brushed through his thick, white wavy hair.

  “In all honesty, that’s the reason I wanted to get together today.” Paul spoke slowly, trying to assemble the right words. The last thing he wanted to do was offend his father-in-law. “Michele and I were discussing Thanksgiving last night and I broached the idea of having the family over for dinner.”

  Chuck slapped the table in excitement. “Marianne and I would absolutely love that. You know we don’t get to see everyone often enough, and now that I have all this free time—”

  Paul continued, treading lightly. “I don’t know how else to say this, but when the discussion came up, Michele resisted the suggestion.”

  Chuck displayed a look of confusion and frustration. “What’s the problem? Look, I realize that we don’t know each other all that well, but I’m pretty much a person who says what’s on his mind. You seem to be searching for the appropriate words here, and I just wish you’d spit them out.”

  Paul took in a deep breath. “Michele seems to be harboring some resentment toward you. I’m not sure of the reason, but every time I bring your name into a conversation, she withdraws into a shell. I was hoping you could enlighten me.”

  Stunned for a brief moment, Chuck finally asked, “Are you speaking as a doctor or her husband?”

  “Both, I guess.”

  “I’m not sure why she would harbor such strong feelings against me.” Chuck pushed his coffee aside and exhaled. “I wasn’t around much while the girls were growing up. My job kept me working all kinds of crazy hours—nights and weekends, too. Marianne did all the heavy lifting with the kids. I tried to be involved when I could, but maybe that wasn’t often enough. Sometimes, though, as some parents do, we get put into a corner. There were occasions, I suppose, when I was faced with the old wait till your father gets home bit. Are you familiar with that?”

  Paul nodded. “I hear about that type of situation all the time in my practice, particularly with people from a different generation. Today it doesn’t seem to be as much of an issue. It’s more common for both parents to be working these days and sharing responsibilities.”

  “I suppose that’s true. In my day, it was the dad who took on the role as disciplinarian. But I tried not to take it overboard like my father did. I never even spanked them.”

  “Never?” Paul’s eyes widened.

 
“Nope. Maybe I should have, God knows they both deserved it on occasion. At times I wondered if they did things on purpose, just to test me. But most of the time I just yelled at them, or kept my distance if I was too angry. Denise was much more of a hell-raiser than Michele, so I probably paid more attention to her. I tried not to choose favorites between the two, but having daughters can be a challenge, especially for the father. There is something to be said for being the only male in the household, and I guess we didn’t have that much in common. Marianne tried to handle all the day-to-day obstacles with them, but those teenage years can be tough, and unfortunately, she resented having to deal with it by herself most of the time. Now that I think back on it, the girls and I really didn’t communicate much at all in a positive way.”

  Paul sat quietly as Chuck continued to peel back the emotional layers. “I was focused on providing for the family. My priority was to fill their basic needs—a roof over their head, food to eat, and down the road, provide for a good education. I guess when you’re a kid, you don’t think about how fortunate you are to have the basics.” Chuck’s hand swiped his brow with obvious frustration. “Paul, until this morning, I really didn’t know I had a problem with Michele. Marianne never said a word.”

  “It doesn’t sound like Marianne and Michele ever really communicated, so I’m sure she didn’t share much with her. It seems that all children have different needs growing up, and unfortunately we sometimes don’t know what they are until they haven’t been met. If it makes you feel any better, Michele clams up on me, too. It can be extremely frustrating.”

  “I want to be part of Michele’s life—I’m her father, for God’s sake. Damn it, I’m going to call and talk to her about this.”

  Paul’s response was quiet but firm. “I’m asking you to be patient. Let me speak to her first.”