The Winter Storm, Part 8

“Explain to me again,” Rachel said, standing beside her little brother’s bed, “why exactly can’t Richard and Michelle change their own sheets?” She rolled the dirty sheets into a ball and tossed them across the room to land in a puddle beside the open doorway.

Her mother stood in the doorway, holding the stack of clean sheets and watching Rachel with a scrutinous eye. “They can,” she said, stepping into the room and dropping the clean sheets on the center of the barren mattress, “but you’re doing it because I said so. If you don’t like it, you can always try behaving yourself in the future.”

Rachel threw a sour look in her mother’s direction, but turned her attention to the sheets before her mother could decide to do something about it. Tucking the new sheets tight into the corners, Rachel moved around the bed, making a show of kicking aside the collected mess of dirty clothes, loose papers and assorted trash lying on the floor. She jumped catching movement in the corner of her eye, but relaxed when she realized her mother was simply taking a moment to look out the window at the street below.

“Looks like the storm is letting up,” Mrs. Bennett said.

Thunder rattled the window, but in its aftermath the morning’s constant pelter of raindrops on the roof was absent. Rachel joined her mother at the window, looking out at the street below. The mail truck pulled up to the curb in front of the house and the mailman reached out, shoving a plastic wrapped pack of mail into the box.

“Perfect timing,” Mrs. Bennett said as the truck moved up the street. “Finish up with the bed and you can go fetch the mail. If you hurry, you might even avoid the rain.”

Rachel gestured at herself calling attention to her lack of outdoor attire. She was wearing nothing more than her bra and panties. “I’m not going outside like this.”

Mrs. Bennett turned, facing Rachel fully in a hands on hips pose. “Sooner or later you’re going to realize arguing with your father and me when you’re already in trouble only gets you in more of it. But you can take some pleasure in being right,” she said, nodding her head. “because you won’t be going out in your bra and panties. You can go in just your panties. Take your bra off and hand it over.” She held her hand out in the space between them.

Rachel’s eyes popped at her mother. “Mom!”

Mrs. Bennett lowered her chin a notch and stared straight into Rachel’s panicked eyes. “I’m going to count to three and if I’m not holding your bra in my hand, you’ll be taking your panties off too and I promise, you’ll still be going out to get the mail. One.”

Rachel gaped at her mother like a fish drowning in the air. She blinked and looked down, no longer able to meet her mother’s gaze. The whole day was going from bad to worse and yet it seemed her other plans were going perfectly right. “It’s not fair.”

“Two,” Mrs. Bennett said.

Reaching behind her, Rachel unfastened the clips holding her bra in place. It slid down her arms into her hands, leaving her untanned bosom exposed. She swung the bra in the air toward her mother’s hand and let it go. Her mother held it dangling from her fingers and Rachel crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her stiffening nipples from view. An angry blush colored her cheeks.

“If you think you’re going to stand around covering yourself all weekend, you’ve got another thing coming, young lady,” Mrs. Bennett said. She pointed at the bed. “Now, finish making the bed and come along. This lull won’t last all day and the mail isn’t going to fetch itself.”

Rachel stomped around the bed to the pillows laying on the floor. She fluffed them with anger and slapped them down against the headboard. Her shaking hands grabbed hold of the comforter lying at the foot of the bed and she pulled it up into place, tucking the pillows beneath it at the headboard. Her mother picked up the pile of dirty sheets from beside the door and beckoned Rachel to follow her out of Richard’s room and down the stairs. They stopped on the tile floor leading to the front door.

“Mom,” Rachel said, a pleading tone dominating her voice, “someone might see me.”

The left corner of Mrs. Bennett’s mouth turned up in a half-smile. “Despite what you might think, the embarrassment won’t kill you.”

Rachel dragged her feet on the cold floor and grasped hold of the doorknob, facing the inevitable. “No, but the pneumonia might.”

Mrs. Bennett rolled her eyes. “Well then I suppose you’ll just have to hurry and if you like, you can spend fifteen minutes in the corner next to the fireplace when you get back.”

“What I’d like a full set of clothes,” Rachel said.

Mrs. Bennett said, “You should have thought of that earlier. Now stop wasting time and go get the mail or would you like to take your panties off first?”

Rachel turned the doorknob and pulled the door open without gracing her mother with a response. She stepped outside and shivered as the cold air raised goosebumps on her skin. In a futile bid for warmth and modesty, she wrapped her arms over her breasts and leaned her head forward, beyond the edges of the entryway alcove. There was an entire neighborhood to see, but all she could hear was the rustle of the trees, blowing in the wind.

Mrs. Bennett said, “By the looks of it, I’d say the rain will be back any minute so, if I were you, I wouldn’t waste time trying to avoid being seen. But it’s up to you, just know you aren’t coming back in without the mail.”

Rachel took another step forward on the entry step and pretended to ignore her mother. The front door closed behind her and a moment later she heard the click of the deadbolt. She spun around, staring at the door and blinking away in disbelief. She reached out to the doorknob and found it was indeed locked. It wasn’t that it made a real difference in what she had to do, but the act was like a slap in the face. She turned back to the outside world and sniffed back tears.

She moved to the edge of the entry step, keeping her arms folded over her naked chest. The shadow of the alcove still hid her from the neighborhood, or at least she hoped it did as she turned her head to the left and the right, peering out at the street. Her ears twitched at the sounds of draining water, running off the roof and spilling into the gutters. Clouds of her frosty breath floated away from her hiding spot as she watched and listened for any signs of potential spectators. All she could detect was the hum of traffic from the main road down the hill and beyond the gates of the neighborhood.

A rumble of thunder sent a nervous shudder through Rachel, leaving her toes tingling on the wet concrete. She raised her head to look across the street at the Sullivan’s house. Her gaze locked on the second story window above the garage where the blind seemed to be moving for a moment. The house was a similar layout to her own and she knew the window belonged to the bedroom of the Sullivan’s twelve year old son. She had babysat for him only a week ago.

Logic told her that the boy was in school, like all boys and girls his age, but the moving blind taunted her with the chance he was home, perhaps sick, perhaps on account of the storm. The reason mattered little in the face of the possibility of being seen by him. He would taunt her with the memory, with the fact that she, unlike him, was still subject to childish, humiliating punishments.

Clearing her fears from her vision, she looked at the window again. If there had been any movement at all, there was no more. She tried to convince herself it was just nerves and imagination. The wind gusted into the alcove, whipping her hair against the wood paneled wall and she shivered.

Another glance up and down the street convinced her she was as alone or at the very least, not being openly watched. She stepped down from the entry alcove and onto the open path leading to the driveway. The standing sheen of water on the path sent chills up her feet and legs. She splashed her way along the concrete, keeping her shoulders hunched down and her freezing breasts covered with her folded arms. At the driveway, she looked up and down the street, sparing a glance at the houses across the street as well and determined she was still unwatched.

She padded halfway down the driveway, keeping her eyes darting around the neighborhood. The mailbox was only a dozen steps away, but the sky opened up, dropping a burst of hard rain upon her. She yelped at the sudden cold, drenching her naked skin from head to toe. Panic and desperation sent her running back up the driveway to hide beneath the eaves. The rain fell harder, splattering her feet and legs as it pelted the driveway and the temperature seemed to drop, evidenced by the larger clouds of her breath hovering in the air beside the dark brown of the garage door.

The rain settled into a steady stream, pouring down from the charcoal clouds hanging in the sky. Rachel squeezed herself against the garage door as if her mere proximity to it would hide her from view. She remained hunched with her arms wrapped around her while her eyes focused on the mailbox, so close and yet far, far away. A flicker of light in her periphery grabbed her attention and she turned her head toward the source. Across the street to the left, a light had snapped on inside the living room of the Jacob’s house.

Mr. Jacob was commonly known as the neighborhood grouch. He walked the neighborhood on a nearly daily basis with a notepad and pen, jotting down every menial association violation he could spot. At the monthly meetings he would send his notes along with recommendations on fines or other punitive measures he thought were fair. To say he was hated by his neighbors would be a little extreme, but he wasn’t on any of their Christmas lists.

Rachel had a few minor encounters with him in the past, but there was one more serious situation which plagued her mind as she crouched beneath the eaves staring at the light emanating from his living room window. She had been a senior in high school at the time and had just recently passed the state exam and received her driver’s license. It was a warm spring day and she had spent most of it shopping at the local outlets with friends, enjoying her new found freedom.

The trouble came when she was almost home. She hadn’t really allowed herself enough time from leaving the outlets to get back home by the hour her parents were expecting her, but a little lead in her foot helped cure that problem. Mr. Jacob was out on one his daily walks when she had come around the corner onto her street driving a fast 40mph. In her rear view mirror she got to watch him gesturing like a lunatic and anyone outside for a square mile had to hear him shout for her to slow down. She blew him off without so much as finger gestured at him, though the thought crossed her mind.

A few minutes after she had returned home and was already relaxing upstairs in her bedroom, Mr. Jacob rang the bell. Hearing his voice, she had the good sense to creep to the top of the stairs and listen while he scolded her parents for bad parenting skills and letting their wild daughter behind the wheel of something as dangerous as a car. It wasn’t long before Rachel had been called downstairs to explain herself. Naturally, she lied.

Mr. Jacob had the gall to call her a liar straight to her face and even question her parents sanity for taking the word of a hormone impaired teenager over him. Unbelievably, her parents started to sway to his way of thinking after her pointed out something about the likelihood of her saying just about anything to avoid having her panties lowered and her butt spanked like a little girl. Things weren’t looking so good for her immediate future and then the unexpected happened.

Richard showed up on the doorstep fresh from playing ball with his friends. He’d apparently overheard enough to know what was going on and had in fact seen the whole incident because he’d been playing nearby with his friends. The amazing part was that instead of sinking her, he actually saved her butt.

He told their parents that it was in fact Mr. Jacob who was lying and totally over reacting because he’d stepped off the curb right in front of her, making her swerve to avoid him and then had the nerve to swear at her. Their parents sent Mr. Jacob home without a show. After that, she had made sure Richard never wanted for a ride anywhere.

She had all but forgotten the incident, but crouched under the eaves as she was his final words to her on the afternoon came back to haunt her. “One way or another I’ll see justice done and if I have it my way, it’ll be your naked butt getting blistered right out here on the sidewalk for all to see.” Given her current situation, the words seemed a little more like a prophecy than the hollow words of an angry man that she had once dismissed them as being.

Beyond the light in his living room, she could see nothing of Mr. Jacob or his wife. The rain showed no signs of letting up as Rachel looked up and down the street. The buzz of cars on the main road reminded her that the longer she was outside, the more chance there was of someone catching an eyeful of her. She bit her lip and decided there was no point in waiting any longer. Arms wrapped over her breasts and shoulders hunched down, she scurried out into the rain and down to the mailbox.

Keeping her left arm in place to partially hide her boobs, she reached out and flipped down the mailbox door. The mail was stuffed inside and wrapped in a plastic bag, damp with rain and her right hand proved to be insufficient to get a good hold of it. She gave up on covering herself and reached inside with both hands. The wet crunch of wheels rolling over asphalt stopped her cold. A car engine purred in close proximity behind her.

The whir of an electric window rolling down sent panic shooting through her nerves. Open mouthed, she spun toward the source. She recognized Mr. Purdue, the high school librarian from up the street, sitting behind the wheel. His eyes were a little wide as he stared out at her. It took Rachel a moment to follow his gaze to her naked breasts and when she did, she hurriedly wrapped her arms in front of herself once more. Her face blazed hotter and redder than a rocket’s red glare.

“You know,” Mr. Purdue said in his typical relaxed tone, “topless sunbathing is usually more effective when the sun is shining.”

Rachel stared at the empty passenger seat beside Mr. Purdue rather than meeting his amused gaze. “I um... wasn’t... I mean this isn’t... well my parents... what I mean is I’m uh.... well uh.. I’m being uh...”

“Punished?” Mr. Purdue said.

Rachel nodded.

“I figured from the state of your backside,” Mr. Purdue said, causing Rachel to blush even brighter. “The last time I saw you wearing this little with your backside that red was when Principal Newsome put you on litter patrol for skipping classes. Don’t tell me you’ve been up to those same old tricks at college?”

It was another incident she preferred not to recall, but for a moment she couldn’t help picturing herself walking around the school grounds after classes wearing nothing but a netted orange vest and picking up trash with plastic tongs. The vest had left her breasts plainly visible through the netting and the length in the back had left her spanked buttocks cleanly displayed from the back. A half dozen geeky boys had followed her on the rounds for the entire week.

The red in Rachel’s cheeks turned darker as she shook her head. “Why doesn’t anybody see I’ve grown up since those days?” she asked. “It’s like everyone judges me based on the past instead of the present.”

“Obviously you’ve grown up,” Mr. Purdue said as his gaze drifted to Rachel’s arm covered boobs, “but judging by your present situation, I’d have to say you’re as recalcitrant as ever.”

Rachel rolled her eyes as a gust of wind whipped the rain into her like a crashing wave. In the aftermath she shivered and said, “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“Budget cuts,” Mr. Purdue said. “The library opens late on Fridays these days and I waited a little longer this morning, hoping the storm might let up some for the drive in.”

“Not much chance of that, I think,” Rachel said, looking up into the falling rain.

Mr. Purdue nodded. “Well, I don’t want to keep you. You should probably hurry up and get back inside before you catch cold or someone decides to take your panties down and add more color to your behind.”

Rachel nodded in agreement. Mr. Purdue rolled his window up and she turned to the mailbox. With both hands she reached inside and pulled the stuffed plastic bag of mail free from the box. Mr Purdue pulled away and she shuddered as another gust of wind whipped her hair and chilled her bones. She closed the mailbox and hurried up the drive toward the house.

She stepped into the alcove and out of the rain and heard the sound of another vehicle on the street. Curiosity momentarily overrode embarrassment and she spun her head just in time to watch Miles pull into the driveway. It wasn’t as if she had thought he wouldn’t be coming back, but she had hoped to have been inside and a little less conspicuous when he did. She turned back to the door and rang the bell, hoping her mother would let her in before Miles and Jennifer joined her on the doorstep.

It didn’t happen that way.

“Wow!” Miles said and whistled as he joined her on the doorstep. “I bet if you pulled those panties down the blaze would scare the rainclouds right out of the sky.”

Rachel fought a smile and tilted her head at her brother. “We can try it, but if you lose, you’ll have to spend the weekend naked in my place. Deal?”

Miles chuckled. “Nice try little sis.”

Rachel shrugged and allowed a half-hearted smile for her brother. Miles winked and dug into his pocket for keys. The hollow echo of heels clattering up the walk behind them faded the smile from her lips.

Jennifer said, “I don’t think little is the right word, Miles. She’s obviously grown to big for her britches, not to mention her bra and the rest of her clothes.”

Rachel turned sideways just enough to glare. “At least I didn’t chose my lack of appropriate attire. What’s your excuse? Was there another accident report you needed to flirt your way out of?”

Jennifer’s eyes narrowed and her lips pursed into a frown. Her furrowed brow told Rachel she had struck a nerve and while she was pleased, she also realized she had probably said a little too much in her haste to spit a retort at her brother’s bitchy bimbo. Fortunately, Miles unlocked the door and pushed it open before anymore reckless words were thrown around.

Miles stepped inside and held the door for Jennifer to follow. Looking to Rachel he said, “Sorry, but I’m sure Mom or Dad will let you in when they’re ready.”

Jennifer grabbed the edge of the door and Miles stepped away. Keeping her voice low, Jennifer said, “When I was growing up, we always kept the family bitch on the porch.” She flashed Rachel a catty smile and pushed the door closed.

Rachel fumed at the closed door, her blood boiling even hotter when she heard the snap of the deadbolt. “I bet you spent a lot of time on the porch then.”

Carla in the Corner

Who doesn't love a good short story? They don't take too long to read and they're packed full of the good stuff and, by their very nature, they don't dawdle on the unimportant or irrelevant. Short stories feed us with direct, unfiltered wants, desires, dreams, and fantasies. That's why we love them.

My friend and fellow blogger, Carla from Carla in the Corner, has put together a collection of short stories now available as a downloadable e-book. Her stories tend focus on the F/F with the occasional F/M mixed in for good measure. She has a few stories available on her blog along with picture collections and other tidbits that can give you a nice sense of her writing style and humor.

If you like what you see and would like to support and encourage her efforts, you can purchase her first e-book, a generous collection of spanking-themed short stories, from Lulu.

The Winter Storm, Part 7

Through the steady onslaught of rain and the swish of windshield wipers, Miles spotted Jennifer. She stood on the highest point of a hill surrounded by nothing but grass and mud. Her arms were folded across her chest and she kept her gaze fixed on the flooded intersection below. Miles looked in the direction of her gaze and spotted the upper half of her car peeking out of the town’s newest river.

He swerved onto the wrong side of the road. Traffic was non-existent and the road was clear other than orange striped barricades blocking the way into the flooded intersection. The truck’s headlights illuminated Jennifer’s hill on the left side, water flowed in sheets onto the sidewalk and off into the street draining slowly into a backed up gutter. Miles realized she was oblivious to his arrival. He pulled to a stop next to the curb and honked the horn. She whirled toward him, her long hair slicing through the falling rain like a whip.

Even in the shadow of the storm, Miles could see the annoyed furl of her cheeks. His breath caught in his throat and his heart sent pangs of electricity shooting to his extremities. Her black dress was soaked to her skin. It adhered itself to her every curve like tight leather. For a moment, he forgot he was supposed to be upset with her. She stomped toward the truck, beauty and the beast rolled into one breathtaking body with one bad attitude.

Her march down the hill sent mud flying in every direction. Near the bottom of the hill, just short of the sidewalk, she slid on the slick grass. Her arms waved in the air wildly as she fought for balance. Miles shook himself from his adolescent stupor and grabbed the door handle, thinking only then of getting out to help her. But it was too late. She reached the sidewalk and found her balance without falling.

Secure in her footing, she paused long enough to throw virtual daggers from her eyes into Miles’ skull. He swallowed hard and reminded himself she was the one who had caused her misfortune, not him. He leaned across the compartment and pulled the handle on the passenger door, opening it for her approach. She hopped inside and groaned. With an exaggerated huff she slammed the door and shook her wet hair, sending droplets flying  like indoor rain.

“Nice of you to show,” Jennifer said while squeezing water from her soaked hair onto the center console. “Did you get lost or just drive slower than a fucking snail?”

Miles stared at the glitter of rain falling through the beams of his headlights. He had intended to wait until they were home, until she had a chance to dry off and calm down. If she had only contained her attitude, it would have gone better for her and for him, but that wasn’t Jennifer.  He knew what he had to do and he steeled himself for it. It wasn’t out of anger,  it was because if he let her, she was going to make him angry.

He slipped the transmission into park and stomped on the emergency brake. His fingers moved the wiper switch to off. They squeaked one last time, brushing away the drops on the windshield before disappearing below the top of the hood. He twisted the switch for the headlights, listening to it click twice before the beams faded to darkness.

In his peripheral vision he could see Jennifer watching him with curious eyes. He hit the lever on the back left of the steering wheel and pushed it up and out of his way. His thumb hit the release on his seat belt sending the material zipping back into the door frame and clanking when the buckle hit the stop. He turned in his seat, squaring his shoulders to face the woman he loved.

She stopped wringing the water from her hair and returned his stare. His lips quivered on the verge of words and she spoke before he could. “What’s your fucking problem?”

He sighed at her. His eyes fluttered closed and he took a deep breath, enjoying the honey scent of her perfume. Opening his eyes, he gazed at her, still struck by her rugged, wet-clothing beauty. A hungry smile licked his lips and he opened his arms to her, offering solace and a truce.

She looked into his eyes and inhaled the musky air of his aftershave. The corners of her scarlet lips turned upward, hinting of a victory smile. She slipped into his arms, pressing her hips into the console between their seats. Her breath warmed his stiff shirt collar and she tickled his naked neck with her tongue. He chuckled and she rubbed her wet bosom against his dry shirt. Her hands felt their way up his torso, stopping to massage his firm pecs. She sighed and nestled her head on his shoulder.

Miles cradled her in his arms. She stared up at him and he leaned down, pressing his lustful lips against hers. He basked in the momentary satisfaction. Her happiness was almost enough to change his mind. His arms trembled with indecision. A fog of confusion drifted into her upward staring eyes. He knew the moment was at hand, it was then or never. He twisted her in his arms, pinning her face-down torso to his lap with his left arm. His right hand rested on her newly upturned rump, raised to a convenient height by the presence of the center console beneath her gyrating hips.

“Hey!” Jennifer said, her voice muffled by the close quarters of his pant leg and the car door. “Just cause I let you hold me, doesn’t mean I’m in the mood for a five dollar foot long.”

Miles slipped his hand down her legs until it reached the hem of her dress. His fingers pinched the drenched fabric and began the slow process of inching it up her legs and over her bottom. She struggled to reach behind herself, but found her arms were trapped between his body, the car door, and the steering wheel. She kicked against the seat and the passenger door. He peeled the dress up her body, scrunching it like an accordion above her hips until her legs were bared and her panties were fully exposed.

Miles stared at the exposed skin, perched on his center console. Her choice of black lace panties were provocative, inappropriate and exactly what he had expected. Beneath the lace, shining into his eyes, was something he had not expected and for a moment all he could do was stare. Glistening, red flesh swelled in contrast with the black containing it. He brushed his fingers over warm buttocks and lace undergarment. She flinched, contracting the muscles and hardening her soft, fiery globes.

“Funny,” he said, gently patting her bottom, “I don’t recall your backside looking quite like this when I left this morning.”

Jennifer said, “This isn’t funny. Let me up and take me home.”

Miles rested both his hands on the middle of her back. “Not until I get some answers.”

She tried futilely to push herself upright. “Don’t fucking start with me. If you weren’t so obsessed with making Daddy proud, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“And what mess is that?” he asked.

“Take a fucking guess,” she said, attempting to twist free of his hold.

Miles patted her bottom, until she laid still again. “Would it have anything to do with the redness back here?”

“Wow,” she said, crooking her head to look up at him and roll her eyes, “you must be a fucking genius.”

He raised his hand and solidly spanked each butt cheek once. “I want answers, not attitude.”

“I want a million dollars and a Porsche,” she said. “Sometimes, you just have to settle for what you can get.”

“Jennifer,” Miles said, staring into her eyes, “you can either tell me what’s been going on now, or you can tell me after I spank your bottom ten degrees hotter. It’s your choice.”

She fluttered her eyelashes. He raised his hand and delivered a flurry of spanks to her buttocks. Her eyes shot open wide and she squealed. He continued to spank as she kicked and squirmed.

“Alright, alright, alright, alright,” she said until he paused again. “I made a deal and took a spanking to keep you and your father from finding out I was behind in delivering the last batch of updates to Raven’s Gym.”

Miles delivered another half dozen spanks. “Now don’t you wish you had just told me in the first place?”

She shook her head. “Can we go home now?”

“Sure,” he said, “just as soon as you tell me what you are doing here.  Raven’s Gym is on the other side of town and this isn’t exactly on the way home.”

“I was on my way to Harper and Son,” she said.

Miles shook his head and raised his hand, delivering another round of spanks that left her squirming and breathless. “Wrong answer,” he said, “this isn’t even on the long way around. Do you want to try the truth or should I take your panties down?”

“I got turned around with all the fucking road closures and that’s the fucking truth whether you believe it or not,” she said.

“Alright, maybe I believe you,” he said, laying on a few slow swats with a lot of smack and wobble, “but that still leaves the big question. What have you been doing that’s gotten you so far behind in your work?”

She weathered his spanks in silence leaving Miles to wonder if she heard his question at all. The tension in her body assured him otherwise though, and as it grew in intensity, he determined it was the real piece of information she wanted to keep hidden. He increased the speed of his spanks and waited for the revelation to spill from her lips.

The words burst out from her in a rush. “I was trying to cover up for Rachel, but it got to be too much and I haven’t been able to get things under control since.”

“Rachel was fired a month ago,” Miles said, resting his spanking hand on her hot bottom.

“And I was covering for her for a month before that. I’ve been behind all that time and it’s just now catching up with me,” she said.

“You should have come to me,” he said.

“You were already mad at me over getting her fired,” Jennifer said, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “How could I possibly tell you I was behind in my work because of her too?”

“I was not mad at you,” Miles said. His hold on her softened. “Rachel is the source of her own problems, she always has been. Dad and I don’t blame you.”

Jennifer looked up into his eyes. “You really aren’t mad?”

He shook his head. “I’m disappointed you didn’t tell me before you ended up getting a sore backside from a client, but I’m not mad.”

“Can we go home now?” she asked with hopeful eyes.

“Just as soon as we make sure you never lie or hide things from me again,” Miles said.

“I won’t,” she said.

Miles slapped his hand down on her buttocks. “I want to be certain.”

The spanking had her burying her head against his leg in seconds. She kicked and squirmed. Her breath turned ragged under the constant slapping of his hand. Sniffles echoed up from the floorboard. Her buttocks grew hotter with every smack of his open palm. He watched the tension fade from her body and admired the undulating waves rippling beneath her flesh in response to every impact of his palm.

She surrendered to the moment, to the spanking, to him.

He stopped the spanking. His hand tingled on the verge of numbness and he knew it was enough. Her sniffles were muffled by the seat and car door, but he knew the sounds of sincerity wracking from her lungs. He lifted her gently upward and she twisted wrapping her arms around his neck. She rested her head on his shoulder and he wiped away the tears on her cheeks with a brush of his finger. He kissed her cheek.

Her lips and eyes pouted. “That really hurt,” she said.

He whispered in her ear. “It was supposed to.”

“Meanie,” she said and punched his chest with a closed fist and so little force that he barely felt it.

He smiled and kissed her again. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

“No,” she said without hesitation.

Miles lifted her from his chest and sat her properly into her own seat. Properly that is with the exception of tugging her dress back down. If she cared, she showed no sign of it on her face. He reached across her and pulled the seat belt to fasten her securely in place. She turned her head away from him and stared out the window.

A knock on Miles’ window startled them both. Outside in the rain, a heavy set man in a police uniform was leaning down and looking inside the truck. Jennifer blushed dark red and grabbed at the hem of her dress, trying to pull it down past her panties. It was a nearly impossible task with the seat belt in place.

Miles rolled his window down. “Morning officer. Is there a problem?”

The man glanced down at himself before looking back to Miles with a sloppy smile on his face. “I’m not an officer, just with traffic enforcement. The names Brody,” he said and offered his hand to Miles. “We’ve got flooded streets all over town and even the locals are getting turned around. I was just checking to see if you and lady here were in need of assistance?”

Miles shook Brody’s hand and glanced at Jennifer. She was still struggling with the hem of her dress while glaring daggers in Brody’s direction. Miles raised an eyebrow, but she wasn’t paying attention to him. He turned back to Brody.

“I know my way around,” Miles said. He nodded his head toward the flooded intersection. “That’s my girlfriend’s car floating down there. We were just having a little discussion before heading home.”

Brody leaned inside the truck enough to get his forehead out of the rain. His eyes wandered to Jennifer’s exposed panties and his lips hung open in a loose grin. She blocked his view with her hands, but he kept looking anyway. He said, “If I were a betting man, I’d say you learned your lesson today. Am I right little lady or am I right?”

Jennifer’s red face grew darker and her lips puckered in an angry frown. Miles expected a bit of venom to spew from her lips, in fact, he was almost looking forward to hearing it. Instead, she glared in uncharacteristic silence, until Brody winked at her and pulled his head back out of the truck.

Brody grinned at Miles. “Well don’t let me keep you out here. It’s probably best if you head on home and stay there cause what I’m hearing is the real storm hasn’t even hit yet. Can’t quite imagine how bad it’s going to get.”

Miles nodded. “Yeah, home sounds like a good idea.”

Brody’s gaze lingered on Jennifer as Miles rolled up the window. The storm continued to rage outside. A bolt of lightning lit the sky, giving the clouds an eerie platinum glow. The patter of falling rain slipped into silence and the truck reverberated in tune with the roar of thunder rolling off the clouds. Miles kept his eyes on Brody until the man finally turned and walked away.

Turning to Jennifer, he asked, “Do you know that guy?”

She shook her head and looked out her window. “I think he might have gone to my high school.”

“But you’re not sure?” he asked.

Jennifer shrugged. “He looked a little familiar, that’s all.”

“He seemed a little odd,” Miles said.

Jennifer stared out her window. He shook his head, knowing she was keeping something from him. Whatever it was, he decided to pursue it later and turned his attention back to the truck. The steering wheel dropped back into place with a thunk under the weight of his hands. He flipped on the headlights and revved the engine before slipping the transmission into drive.

With a quick glance  in his mirrors and at Jennifer, he pulled away from the curb and turned the truck around to head back the way he had come. The rain had stopped, but his instincts told him Brody was right about the storm;  It was far from over and the worst of it remained ahead.

“You up for seeing my father?” he asked.

She remained silent, staring out the passenger window.

He said, “Cause we should really figure out what were going to do about the Harpers.”

She looked back toward him. “There’s nothing to figure out. I’m not going to let that bastard Julian lay a hand on me and if I have to quit to be sure of it, then I quit.”

The Winter Storm, Part 6

There were the stares and giggles. Nothing was too obvious or direct, but it was there, the same way the squeaking of rubber soles on the tile floor was there; in the background permeating everything. Michelle kept her head up as she weaved through packed hallway toward her second period class. No one would dare laugh at her face.

A cold hand dropped onto her shoulder. Michelle twitched, shaking free of the offending limb and twisting her head to look behind her for the source; Aimie Andrews. Their eyes met and Michelle exhaled, shaking her head briefly before turning back to her original course.

“You’re pissed,” Aimie said, taking pace next to Michelle. “That’s a good sign.”

Michelle cocked her head sideways and lifted an eyebrow. “It is?”

“Yeah,” Aimie said, “it means you haven’t turned into just another Cody cock whore. Or at least, I hope not?”

“You call yourself a friend and have to ask?” Michelle puffed on hot air and quickened her pace.

Aimie grabbed her arm, forcing a slowdown. “Hey, what do you expect? The dweeb has been spreading rumors all morning and you haven’t said jack to anyone. It’s not like you haven’t been hanging with him and everybody saw his paws all over you on Wednesday.”

Michelle waved a dismissive hand at her friend. “Cody think he’s far more relevant than he actually is and some of that comes from people like you putting way too much importance in what he says. Trust me, he’s irrelevant.”

Aimie shook her head. Spotting a free area to their left she tugged Michelle along with her through the thinning crowd. They stood in front of a maintenance door in a void created by the lockers on the adjacent wall. Across the hallway, the door remained open leading into their shared second period English class.

“He may be irrelevant,” Aimie said, “but your reputation is not. You can’t just let him trash you.”

Michelle laughed at her friend. “He’s only trashing himself, but it’s just going to take a little bit before he, and everyone else, figures it out. Besides, I still need him to remain stupid for a few more hours.”

Aimie shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I should have known you had scheme going here. So, what is it?”

“Ask me next week,” Michelle said and turned toward the open classroom door.

Aimie grabbed Michelle’s arm again. “Hang on a second. If you aren’t all pissed over Cody, then what’s up?”

Michelle turned back toward her friend. A flush of embarrassment warmed her skin and she looked at the sign on the door behind Aimie to avoid looking into her eyes. “Nothing.”

Aimie’s head tilted to the left. “Nothing? Bullshit. What’s going on?”

The crowd in the hall was getting noticeable thinner. Time was running down on the passing period. Michelle glanced behind her at the open door. “We should go.”

Realization dawned in Aimie’s eyes. “You’re in trouble.”

Michelle’s eyes opened wide. “How would you know?”

“Cause it’s like written all over your face,” Aimie said. “So?”

Michelle sighed and turned her full attention back to her friend. “I didn’t get my Civics done last night.”

Aimie laughed. “That’s all? Damn, I didn’t do my English homework and it’s the third time this month I’ve missed. You’re worried about one time in Civics?”

“It’s not Civics I’m worried about,” Michelle said.

“Then what?” Aimie asked.

“If my dad finds out,” Michelle said, “it’ll screw everything up.”

Aimie shrugged. “So, don’t let him find out.”

“If that was possible it’d be great,” Michelle said, shaking her head. “The problem is you know Wolfe will assign after school detention and that means I’ll miss my ride home this afternoon.”

“Make something up. Tell your dad you stayed after to do extra credit work with Mr. Wolfe,” Aimie said.

“That’s a little too bold,” Michelle said with a laugh. “If my dad didn’t believe me and call Mr. Wolfe, he would not only find out I lied, but also why I lied. No, the truth is the only way out of this is to get the work done somehow between now and third period.”

A flicker in Aimie’s eyes made Michelle look over her shoulder. Nick was walking along the corridor with post-it marked textbook in his hands. Michelle watched as he passed and turned left into the teachers’ lounge. She scowled at his absence.

Aimie cleared her throat with a shallow cough. “I see.”

Michelle’s eyebrows raised as she turned back to her friend. “What?”

“Nothing.” Aimie shrugged.

Michelle cocked her head to the left. “You’re really getting on my nerves today.”

Aimie nodded. “Aside from Cody, that seems to be the rule of the day.”

“Be a bitch on your own time,” Michelle said and turned away, taking a step toward the open classroom door.

“Normal girls kiss the guys they like,” Aimie said, “and save the castrating for the bastards. You seem to have it backwards.”

Michelle turned back around on her heel and stepped up close to Aimie. “I wasn’t trying—

—to castrate Nick?” Aimie asked, tossing her brown curls off her shoulders. “I’m sure you fooled everyone, including Nick, this morning with your little stunt in the hall.”

Michelle squared her shoulders and stared down at Aimie. “That’s none of your damned business.”

“Then maybe you should have had your little spat in a more private place,” Aimie said.

“Look,” Michelle said, backing down a little, “it’s not what you think.”

Aimie shrugged. “So it’s got nothing to do with him being jealous as hell over the display you put on with Cody this week?”

Michelle sighed. “No, I asked for his help with my Civics problem and he refused.”

“Because of Cody,” Aimie said.

“No!” Michelle shook her head. “He... just forget it okay?”

“Uh uh.” Aimie shook her head. “Out with it.”

Michelle stared at the maintenance door. “He wanted to spank me before he’d help.”

“And you said no?” Aimie blinked wildly.

“Of course I said no.” Michelle stared down at her friend.

Aimie continued to blink. “You like him, right?”

“Not at the moment,” Michelle said.

Aimie scoffed. “Bullshit. You’re crazy about him. So, what you’re going to do is as soon as second period is over, you’re going to run, don’t walk, and find Nick. Then you are going to get down on your knees and beg the boy to put you over his lap everyday for the rest of your life or as least for the next week and if you’re really lucky, he might still help you with your homework problem.”

“You’re delusional,” Michelle said.

Aimie laughed. A shadow fell over the two girls from behind Michelle. They fell silent, noticing the hallways was nearly empty, except for them and the shadow. Michelle turned toward the source and looked up to see Mr. Wolfe, smiling down at her.

He said, “If I’m not mistaken, you ladies should be rushing off to class.”

They both straightened and lowered their gazes respectfully. “Yes, sir.”

“Off you go then,” he said with a wave of his hand before continuing on his way toward the teachers’ lounge.

The bell rang marking the end of the passing period. Michelle and Aimie barged through the door, scrambling to get to their seats before the final shrill fell into silence. Mrs. Rixford singled Aimie out with a stern gaze and a disapproving shake of her head before turning to her lesson plan on the podium.

Mrs. Rixford spoke to the classroom at large, flipping the page on her planner. “Pass your homework to the front and open your books to page 137.”

The classroom rustled to life. Books were opened, homework pages were torn from spiral notebooks and gossip was spread with the passing of each page toward the front of the room. Collecting the pages, Mrs. Rixford stopped at the front of the row seating Aimie and Michelle. She thumbed through the pages and cleared her throat, fixing her gaze on Aimie.

“Aimie,” Mrs. Rixford said, causing Aimie to twist in her seat to face the front of the classroom, “It appears you forgot to pass in your homework. Perhaps you would be so kind as to pass it forward now?”

Aimie swallowed and blushed while brushing aside strands of her curly hair from her face. “Would you believe I already did?”

Mrs. Rixford’s chin dropped a quarter of an inch and her dry lips flattened. “If  you had it would be in my hand.”

“There must be some mistake,” Aimie said with a shrug.

Mrs. Rixford nodded. “Yes, such as for the third time this month you have apparently sluffed off the homework I assigned.”

“That would be a very serious mistake,” Aimie said, glancing around the room, “but don’t you think it’s more likely one of these jealous classmates sitting in front of me stole my homework?”

“No, I do not,” Mrs. Rixford said, “however, I do find it difficult to understand why you would even show up to class without your homework after the warning I gave you last week.”

Aimie shrugged. “Wishful thinking I guess.”

“Indeed,” Mrs. Rixford said, “if you thought I wouldn’t follow through.”

“Well actually,” Aimie said, “I was watching this movie and with the rainstorm I thought it might just be possible you’d melt away long before class.”

Mrs. Rixford’s lips curled upward into a scary smile. “Too bad for you we don’t live in Oz.”

“So you admit you’re wicked,” Aimie said.

“Thoroughly,” Mrs. Rixford said, still smiling.

The silence in the room filled with the gloom of the storm raging outside. Michelle shuddered in her seat when the lights flickered in sync with a loud boom of thunder. The ceiling tiles rattled in their frames and the whisper of hot air being blown into the room through strategically placed vents added an extra heft to the air. Michelle looked around the room, but all eyes were on Aimie.

“How about,” Aimie said, “I do an extra assignment over the weekend and we call it even?”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Rixford said.

Aimie’s eyebrows lifted. “It is?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Rixford said, nodding. “You can do the assignment from last night, your homework for the weekend and an extra assignment, all due on Monday.”

Aimie said, “Uh, okay.”

Mrs. Rixford said, “I’m glad we’re in agreement. Now if you would join me at the front of the class for your swats, we can move on to other business for the day.”

Aimie blinked. “But I thought—

Mrs. Rixford said, “Enough, Miss Andrews. Get yourself up here before I have one of these young men drag you up here.”

Aimie adopted a frown and pushed herself up out of her desk. She trudged quietly to the front. Michelle watched her go, envying the quiet confidence that seemed to emanate from her. Around the room, anticipation hung on the faces of people that were supposed to be friends. Michelle realized it didn’t matter, anyone pulled to the front for a spanking was a spectacle and for the largest part, everyone was going to enjoy the show. The butterflies in her stomach reawakened, reminding her that it was only a couple more hours before she would find herself in the same position unless she found a way to get her own Civics homework done.

Mrs. Rixford held her hand out toward Aimie and said, “Remove your blazer.”

Aimie slipped it from her shoulders and allowed Mrs. Rixford to take it. Mrs. Rixford draped it over her podium and lifted the long wooden paddle from its hook on the side. She sliced it through the air, popping it against the flat of her hand and making everyone jump, especially Aimie.

Mrs. Rixford barked orders at Aimie while the class remained in tense silence. “Feet, shoulders width apart, legs straight, bend down and touch your toes. You’ll count each swat aloud and stay in position until I say it’s over. If you don’t, the previous swat will be repeated and another will be added on at the end. Understood?”

Aimie said, “I think I know the routine.”

Michelle looked around the classroom, anything to avoid looking at her friend or more aptly, the specter of her future self. The collective eyes of their classmates were focused on Aimie and Mrs. Rixford. Several of the boys sat on the edge of their seats, as if suddenly uncomfortable. Their lack of empathy felt colder than the storm wind blowing outside.

Still, Michelle could hardly blame them when she too was watching the scene unfold. It was like staring at the last chocolate in a box and knowing you shouldn’t, but all the while lifting it up to devour it in all its sinful delectableness.

Aimie widened her stance and slowly stretched herself downward until her fingertips brushed the tops of her polished shoes. Mrs. Rixford swatted the paddle against the open flat of her palm. The class bristled in anticipation of the main event.

Mrs. Rixford said, “I think we’ll have five swats for not doing your homework and another five swats for sass and then two more just to make sure you’re getting the message this time. Is that acceptable Aimie or should I add a few more?”

Michelle cover her mouth to avoid her friend spying the amusement on her lips. Aimie gave an upside down shrug and said, “You’re the teacher.”

Mrs. Rixford raised the paddle in the air behind her. “Yes, I am,” she said and brought the paddle crashing down onto Aimie’s proffered posterior.

Aimie’s skirt flattened and then fluttered in the wake of the swat. Her voice was calm and steady  as she counted, “One.”

Michelle gripped the edges of her desk. The paddle raised high in the air and hovered. Mrs. Rixford swung it down, popping against Aimie’s rear. The skirt fluttered again teasing the class with a flicker of white from beneath its folds of fabric. The clock on the wall above the whiteboard ticked off another second in the quiet aftermath of the swat.

“Two,” Aimie said.

A flash of lightning outside the window on the left wall grabbed Michelle’s attention. The pop of the paddle impacting Aimie’s bottom turned Michelle’s head back toward the spanking. A moment later, thunder rattled the window as if it was an echo to the latest swat.

Aimie’s voice wavered and her tone took a turn toward the contrite. “Three,” she said.

Michelle blinked and looked around the classroom. No one was looking anywhere except at Aimie and her prominent rear end. Nick’s offer to spare her the same humiliation in Civics suddenly seemed a kindness. Of course, the prospect of laying herself over his lap for discipline remained equal parts daunting and exciting, but maybe Aimie was right.

Mrs. Rixford swung the paddle.

Aimie swayed from side to side for a moment. Even at the back of the classroom, Michelle could hear the ragged breathing of her friend as she attempted to weather the formidable sting being imparted by Mrs. Rixford. Michelle twitched in her seat as if her own bottom was stinging.

“Four,” Aimie said.

The paddle swooshed through the air. Michelle squeezed her eyes shut a second before the impact and reopened them in tune with the pop. Aimie’s skirt fluttered in the paddle’s breeze. “Five.”

Mrs. Rixford lowered the paddle to her side and took a step back from Aimie. “Flip up your skirt for the next five,” she said.

Michelle, like her classmates, was transfixed by the scene. Aimie reached up from her bent position and tossed the back hem of her skirt upward. The material landed on her back, exposing a pair of plain white panties to entire room. Her redden buttocks gave the white undergarment a pinkish glow.

Aimie’s fingers returned to the tops of her shoes. Mrs. Rixford stepped up into position again and raised the paddle in the air behind her. She brought it down on the panties flattening the buttocks. Waves of wobbling force shuddered through Aimie’s legs and the red became redder.

“Six,” Aimie said.

Michelle peered through shuttered eyelids.

“Seven.” Aimie counted in the aftermath of another swat.

Michelle looked down at her desktop and the open book in front of her. She tried to focus on the words, but all she saw was her blank homework for Civics. It taunted her. She shuddered at the echo of the paddle impacting Aimie’s bottom.

“Eight,” Aimie said.

Mrs. Rixford paused to address the class. “I hope everyone is learning from this.” She swung the paddle like a period on her sentence.

“Nine,” Aimie said.

Michelle’s ears tingled at the tone in her friend’s voice. She could hear the strain coming through and the limits of tolerance being reached. It would take little more to bring about tears and though it would seem only natural there was something about crying in front of classmates that made it a shameful act to be avoided above all others. Aimie understood, but there were limits and if an experienced rule breaker like Aimie couldn’t withstand the full swats of a middle-aged woman, how could Michelle hope to withstand the efforts of a younger and stronger man?

“Ten,” Aimie said.

“Final two,” Mrs. Rixford said. “You can stay quiet for these.”

Michelle wondered if it was kindness in Mrs. Rixford’s decision or if it was a taunting of sorts. Perhaps she too had heard the fragile edge in Aimie’s last counts and realized silence was not on the menu for much longer. It was more than a spanking going on at the front of the room. It was a battle of spirits, student and teacher, each vying for a symbolic victory over the other. It was idiotic and yet Michelle knew she would play the same game with Mr. Wolfe if it came to it.

The final two swats landed in close repetition. Silence fell upon the room. Mrs. Rixford hung the paddle back on its hook. She lifted the blazer from the podium and stood facing Aimie, still bent over. The patter of rain on the roof counted the long seconds. Michelle and her classmates waited with held breath.

“Stand up,” Mrs. Rixford said.

Aimie rose. She turned to face Mrs. Rixford, brushing her hair with her fingertips. She took the blazer from Mrs. Rixford’s outstretched hand and shrugged her way back into it. Michelle noticed a trembling in Aimie’s legs as she walked back toward her desk. There was wetness below Aimie’s eyes as she took her seat. Michelle decided to do whatever it would take to avoid Mr. Wolfe’s paddle.