Return to Wilder

by Carl Hamlin

  As she read, she enjoyed a couple of cans of beer along with some of the potato chips she deprived herself of fifty-one weeks a year. The romance novel was getting steamy, and she found herself appreciating a particularly torrid scene. What vexed her was that she had a flash of imagination placing her in the scene with Mark Walters. Now all of those silly conversations were getting to her. But the scene certainly was interesting!

  She turned over on her stomach and continued reading. She laughed at the revelation that, according to the author of that particular novel, those pioneers definitely knew how to get it on. She wondered just what it would be like to actually make love on the floor of a covered wagon.

  After a while, the heat became uncomfortable, and she decided to go inside and resume her reading on the comfort of that beloved old sofa her parents had bought when she was in college. She stretched out in her bikini and returned to the mischief of a young woman pursuing the heart of the wagon train’s scout as her parents took her with them on the way from Pennsylvania to a new farm along the Wabash River.

  The spirited girl did win his heart at the end, and was happy to enter into a marriage in which she would be cared for and protected. Closing the book, Jessica considered how times had changed. She had never felt the need to be protected by a man, nor to be subservient to one, as the heroine had pledged to be. She had accomplished everything on her own, and as a single woman. There have been times, she admitted, when sharing responsibility for some major decisions in life would have relieved some of the stress.

  She glanced at her watch. It was much later than she would usually stay up. Part of the luxury of her vacation was that she could stay with her early bed times, but sleep as late as she desired. That was her plan for the following day.

  The next morning, contrary to her plans, Jessica was stirred from sleep by a loud “thud”, followed by a metallic “wham”. She stretched and kicked the covers off and heard voices and men laughing. She slowly rose and walked to the window. Across the road were a large truck, and a forklift much like she had been around at the box factory.

  She looked to see if Mark was one of the two men, but the one facing her way was a tall red-haired man. The other was shirtless in the warm late-June morning, but he certainly had a fine, trim physique, even if he was going bald. Enjoying the back view of this man, Jessica lingered at the window, hoping he would turn around. A minute later, he did. It was Mark. Now bald, but indeed Mark. And did he have the build!

  Jessica shot back to her bed and lay on her back, feeling silly that she would react in such a manner, as if she were a little girl. Looking down at herself in her short nightshirt, she imagined how much Mark would enjoy seeing her that way, and in impulsive response, she grabbed the quilt and covered herself.

  She tried to delude herself into believing she could fall back asleep. She turned over and put an extra pillow over her head to try to block out any more sounds from across the road. The weather forecast had predicted a hot day, so she vowed to turn on the home’s window air conditioners to block out the noises during the rest of her stay.

  As if to bring frustration upon herself, her mind relived the discussion with Helen from the previous day. To her dismay, her mind froze at the comment Mark had made about giving her a spanking. Against her will, she imagined what that scene might have been like.

  She had worn a blue satin dress that barely met her mother’s approval for both neckline and hemline. She saw herself in that humiliating position, Mark’s hand landing on a bottom that would have been protected by two thin layers of wispy fabric. As if her imagination was out of her conscious control, she suddenly imagined herself in that same dilemma, but in the short nightshirt she was wearing. Without at first realizing it was happening, her fingertips began to slide slowly down her abdomen until she leapt out of bed in horror. She looked in the mirror and muttered, “Don’t you dare let your mind go there.”

  She exchanged the nightshirt for a robe and sleepily walked downstairs to the bathroom. Throughout the lengthy shower, she chastised herself for allowing her subconscious to entertain the possibility that having Mark Walters’ hand landing stinging whacks on her bottom could be the least bit stirring to her libido.

  Back up in her bedroom, she took a deep breath, still rattled by her recent thoughts. She still could not resist the urge to glance across the road. No one was about, and the JEEP was gone.

  She put on some white cotton shorts and a faded Purdue t-shirt, and then slid her feet into her beloved and well-worn sandals. Assuming another day of poor diet, she once again had some yogurt and a bowl of whole-grain cereal. She would walk to the diner next to Helen’s store to have coffee.

  After a few minutes of walking, she entered the eatery to friendly greetings, a teasing wolf whistle and an invitation to join some of her father’s old pals at a round table. She sat there for an hour, listening to stories of her father’s practical jokes and answering questions about her job. Hearing several comments about how proud her parents were of her, she became teary-eyed.

  A couple of the men still farmed and had to leave to tend to their livestock, so the gathering broke up. Jessica spent some more time chatting with other customers, before deciding to stroll around the town.

  Knowing most of the business owners and many who worked for them, Jessica spent the entire day visiting, returning to the diner for lunch, and then setting off again for more visits. She dropped in at the small branch library where her cousin had worked for twenty years, and where her own book on how a small-town girl ended up working in the news business was in a special display recognizing former and current residents of Wilder who had become citizens of note.

  Having spent a full day of catching up with acquaintances, she decided to go home. There she indulged in yet another shameless binge of her favorite treats.

  She settled onto the sofa, and spent three hours reading yet another book. She did not like the story and she chose to abandon it. Still not sleepy, she remembered that the paperback novel she had brought along to read next was in the glove box of her car. She walked outside and found it just where she had thought she had put it.

  Jessica turned around as she approached the house, and then noticed that the JEEP she had seen across the road was once again in the driveway. She picked up her pace, and was just about to step up onto the front porch when she heard a faint but familiar voice that caused her to feel a chill: “Hi, Jess.”

  Turning slowly, she looked back across the road to see Mark walking slowly toward her, his limp very noticeable. He was wearing jeans and an old workout shirt from his days as a police officer.

  “Mark.” Jessica froze as the figure from her past walked slowly again and approached her. “How are you?”

  The man nodded. “Not doing too badly. Just wanted to say hello. Good to see you again.”

  Jessica felt her breath catch, as she turned around, trying to decide what to do. Finally, she nodded toward the door. “Want to come in?”

  Mark shook his head. “I guess I can take some time out. I’m replacing some parts on the plane.”

  Jessica began to shake as she motioned toward the door. “Well, we can have a seat for a while.”

  Mark nodded, then walked cautiously to follow Jessica inside, and joined her on the sofa. “I get to see your program from time to time now that my schedule is more flexible. You do a great job, Jess.”

  “Thank you. I enjoy it. And what have you been up to?”

  Mark grinned. “Been doing some flying, more or less for the fun of it. I like crop-dusting, but I do miss being on the police force. At the same time, I can do without some of those incidents that get the adrenaline pumping. I’m ready for some quiet times now.”

  Jessica laughed. “And you can’t beat Wilder for quiet times.”

  Mark smiled. “I could never really leave for good. There’s just something about this place, the people.... I don’t know what it is for sure. I just had to come back. I guess I’m like you in that respect
.”

  Jessica shrugged. “Yah, not certain I would want to live here all the time again, but I sure keep coming back.”

  Mark nodded. “Can’t live with it, can’t live without it. Just like some people, I guess.”

  Jessica felt her teeth beginning to clench, and she turned sharply toward her guest. “If that means “get the hell out of my house, you horse’s ass’.”

  Mark laughed, and that only infuriated Jessica. “Come on. We do have a history.”

  Jessica shot up from the sofa. “Only in your juvenile mind do we have a history. You need to get on with life”.

  Mark sat with outstretched arms. “My gosh. It’s been over thirty years since that prom. How long can someone stay mad? We were just teenagers then. Lighten up.”

  Jessica’s face was red with anger. “Maybe someday you can apologize. And one more thing. Don’t you dare tell one more person that you wanted to spank me that night.”

  Mark stood up and grinned. “I did want to spank you. And you were damned lucky I decided not to. But you did have it coming.” Mark hesitated, then stepped closer with his hands on his hips. “I still wish I had. You know, I’ve thought about it from time to time. You across my knees in that flimsy dress with my hand landing on you precious fanny. I bet that would have stung.” He grinned again. “It still would.”

  Jessica’s eyes flashed in rage. “You missed your chance, didn’t you? I don’t think with who I am now, and at my age, that’s going to happen with someone like.…”

  Mark’s face drained. “Like me. Like some regular guy who never had a television program or went to the big city?” He grabbed Jessica by the arm and sat down in the center of the sofa. “I never did like unfinished business.”

  Mark pulled the struggling and squealing Jessica onto the couch and across his lap. She suddenly experienced a fluttering in her abdomen and all surrounding areas. As she found her face being unceremoniously buried in the musty cushion, she had a second to remind herself that she had never been spanked and had no clue as to how it would feel. Her answer came as Mark’s hand landed in the middle of her bottom with a sharp crack that echoed in the room.

  Shocked by the intensity of the sting, Jessica let out a shriek. She was nearly overwhelmed by humiliation until Mark’s hand landed for the second time, and the pain replaced embarrassment as her primary concern. That was reinforced as the third crack, much harder than the previous ones, caused her to cry out again.

  “I - I’ll see you in jail for this.”

  As the celebrated legs kicked in pain and protest, another painful meeting took place between Mark’s open hand and the bottom that graced the couch each morning in the Chicago studio.

  “Mark! You let go of me right now!”

  Jessica’s struggles were in vain, as Mark simply pinned her right hand against the small of her back to provide him with a clear shot to his target. He applied his hand for a fifth time, and Jessica screamed at the top of her lungs. “You have no right to do this.”

  Mark hesitated for a moment, and then gave her the hardest whack yet. “I really don’t care.”

  Mark’s hard hand landed with great force three more times before he again halted. “I think we’ve both waited too long for this.” Yet another volley of three loud whacks took Jessica’s breath away.

  “Mark, you’re hurting me.”

  Mark began to laugh and whacked her again. “Well, duh.” Another loud whack.

  Jessica wailed in a quivering voice. “I’ll have you arrested.”

  Mark patted her bottom a few times. “It would still be worth it.” His hand landed three more times, then he released his grip, and Jessica fell off his lap and onto the floor.

  Without another word, Mark marched to the door, his limp barely noticeable, and then turned as if prepared to speak. However, he simply smiled at the woman who now knelt on the floor rubbing her bottom furiously, and walked out.

  Jessica remained kneeling, nearly in shock. She wiped a tear from both eyes, then slowly rose and walked to the door, nearly in a trance. She gazed through the screen door as Mark walked home and disappeared through the door of the hangar building as darkness was falling.

  Stunned by what had transpired, Jessica slowly climbed the stairs and went into her bedroom. She totally undressed, but before slipping on her nightshirt, walked to the full-length mirror on the closet door and turned to see the damages. She gasped to see that her bottom was two mounds of very dark pink. Her bottom was still full of fire and quite warm to the touch. The sting intensified in waves every few seconds. She shook her head in amazement that she has just been spanked by Mark Walters.

  She pulled back the bedding and plopped down on her stomach, still in total disbelief at the evening’s events. The room was warm enough, so she did not cover up, and simply flipped the nightshirt up so that her bottom could recover without being irritated and chafed by any fabric.

  She was so emotional that it took her a long time to go to sleep. As she lay with her bottom bare to cool, she began to second-guess her own words and reactions to what Mark had said. She had not wanted to acknowledge her own culpability in their feud, but she had invited him into her home. She was not certain as to why, and the question was haunting her.

  She was also confused as to why her anger toward Mark seemed to depart along with him. She was certainly not happy that she had gotten a spanking at age fifty, but she wanted to be angry more than she was capable of being at the moment. It was all quite confusing. She could never agree that she had deserved it.

  She reached back to rub the sore area. Not only had she been spanked, she had been spanked very hard. She could not believe how painful it had been. When it was over, tears had begun to run down her face.

  She placed her head on her pillow, closed her eyes, and tried to ignore the sting that lingered. As if in a delayed action, she began to cry, softly at first before progressing to sobs. She was in pain. She was angry. She was humiliated and to her utter frustration, she was sorry. To her horror, however, she wanted to have Mark back with her on that large sofa.

  Chapter Three

  Jessica awoke at two-thirty for a trip to the bathroom. Walking sleepily back to the bedroom, she could not resist the urge to take another peek at the part of her upon which Mark had expended such energy, and with great enthusiasm, she told herself.

  She turned on her bedside lamp, and once again stepped in front of the mirror and lifted the nightshirt. Her bottom was still very pink, very warm, and most all, very sore. She continued to look at the image, then whispered to herself, “You sure did take one heck of a good lickin’.”

  She heaved a sigh, turned off the light and once again fell upon her stomach on the bed. She closed her eyes and laid her head on folded forearms, but she was now too awake. She tried to go back to sleep by simply keeping her eyes closed, but that was to no avail. She kept seeing the faces of all the Chicago movers and shakers she dealt with on a daily basis. What would they think, if they knew that premier news program anchor Jessica Marin had been given a spanking like she was an errant child?

  She wanted to sleep. She always slept on her back, but she did not typically have someone tan her hide soon before bedtime.

  Carefully, she turned over on her back and pulled up the blanket to cover herself. When her bottom rested on the sheet, it stung and felt hot. However, she felt the same fluttering in her abdomen she had felt as Mark was pulling her over his knees. In fact, she had felt the same sensation each time he paused, and she was left to assume there were more whacks to come.

  She closed her eyes and began to relive the experience, and the fluttering intensified. As she recalled the impact of Mark’s hand and the unnerving, loud smack each time, she found herself pressing her bottom down to bring forth the sting and recreate the spanking. She recalled the sensation of being unable to break free, powerless to stop the infliction of pain. In addition, she recalled that she was held firmly against him, and that his strength was impressive.

>   This time when her hands began moving downward to deal with the inexplicable but intense arousal, she did not admonish herself to cease. Instead, alone in the darkness in the middle of the night, she allowed her fingertips to work in concert with her downward movements and memories of Mark’s firm hand landing.

  It was the second time in just several hours that diverse physical sensations had caused her to cry out loudly. And although the pain and soreness had largely diminished through the remainder of the night, dawn brought another fantasy recreation of her spanking, again resulting in curling toes.

  When Jessica awoke again at 9:00, she was a jumble of emotions. Her bottom was still tender and somewhat sore. During the night, she had enjoyed two intense solo climaxes. But prior to that, she had been taken across a man’s knees and spanked. More than that, she had been spanked very hard and painfully. If that was not enough, after knowing him for decades, she was beginning to feel attracted to him. And she did not know what to do with it all.

  She would not leave to go back to Chicago earlier than planned. Nor would she remain there, but cower in her house to avoid encountering the brute, Mark Walters. She had dealt with difficult situations before. Just not quite like this.

  After getting out of bed, she glanced out the window to see that the JEEP was still there. She took a shower and put on a short denim skirt and a Cubs shirt. Slipping on her sandals, she took a deep breath and walked outside. Full of apprehension, she began walking toward the café to have an unhealthy breakfast.

  She sat down at a corner table, and felt some remaining soreness and stinging. The warmth had lingered as well, and she was rattled and frustrated to find that she did not mind that sensation.

  Jessica was nearly done with her meal when a hand rested on her shoulder. She looked up to see Mark pulling out a chair to sit next to her. She felt her face turn warm and her blood turn cold.