The Bad Attitude Bunny Escapades

Try not to fall out of your chair and if you’re standing, I suggest sitting down because I’ve actually published a new ebook. That’s right, one of those Coming Soon spots at the top of the page has finally graduated to Now Available. It’s not a supremely long work, but rather a pair of longer short stories, in the neighborhood of 10k words each. And they are both somewhat featured around the upcoming Easter holiday, although really it was just a great excuse to get my two newest heroines into some provocative looking bunny costumes. I mean really, doesn’t that sound like a fun spanking outfit, especially if those ears can stay in place?

Here’s a little taste from “Bunny Money”  to whet your appetite;

The staircase spiraled up to the second level from the front of the restaurant, just to the right of the entrance. Slabs of bull nosed, two inch thick marble— the same imported blue-gray as the floor— made for highly attractive and slippery steps.  Decorative wrought iron with a matte black finish framed the steps as railing and rattled for attention under my cautious journey to the upper level. I tried not to blush too violently when I realized at a certain point of my ascent the patrons who must have been watching surely saw nothing more of me than my presumably pink naked buttocks, legs and ‘fuck me’ heels.

At the top, a glass door isolated the private upstairs room from the noises and scents of the bustling restaurant below. It also kept in the sounds from the private room as I quickly discovered opening the door and stepping inside. My eyes blinked involuntarily at the loud whap echoing in the mostly empty room. I blinked again at the sight before me.

The Blackburn’s occupied only the center space of the room, leaving much of the area empty. It appeared that four of our normal square tables had been pushed together end to end forming a long rectangular table, covered with a single lilac tablecloth. In total, there were only six Blackburn’s present, three men and three women. Four of them were seated comfortably at the table while one, the eldest man stood near the closest end of the table and the other, the youngest woman, laid her upper half over the near end. The man held a leather belt, doubled over, in his hand and the girl, no more than twenty-two, held tight to the edges of the table with her dress folded up onto her back and her yellow panties encircling her knees. Her bare buttocks showed the unmistakable marks of a belt lashing against the tender flesh. If I had any doubt, the tears glossing over her eyes while she stared at me with her cheek pressed against the table, illuminated the occasion as an unwelcome one. The man stopped swinging the belt and looked at me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to keep my voice steadier than my fluttering heartbeat. It was hard not to feel like an unwelcome gawking intruder, particularly with my own public spanking from only moments before still burning in my buttocks. “I can come back in a few minutes.”

“Nonsense,” he said. His tone carried authority and confidence that only a man accustomed to power and success could even attempt. I presumed him to be none other than Roderick Blackburn. “Surely you’ve witnessed a spanking before?”

“I have,” I said. I stayed near the door still uncertain whether I should leave or stay. “I simply didn’t want to intrude.”

Roderick grumbled something incomprehensible and then louder, said, “You’re a servant are you not?”

For just a moment, I forgot how embarrassed I was to be standing there in the bunny getup. I took a step forward. “I’ve been called a waitress, a waiter, and even a server, but if you’re looking for a servant you’re not only in the wrong place, but the wrong century.”

The young Mr. Blackburn, probably in his early thirties, looked to me from his place at the table and said, “You’ll have to forgive my grandfather, he has the manners of a house cat on his good days.”

He was breathtakingly handsome with golden brown hair and expressive green eyes that felt like they were swallowing me whole. Maybe he wouldn’t have given me a second look in my regular clothes, but I still felt foolish, dressed as I was, under his scrutinous gaze. I was glad he had missed the spectacle downstairs and if it was at all possible, I wasn’t going to let him see the results of it either.

The Bad Attitude Bunny Escapades is available now at Lulu.

The Winter Storm, Part 13

The remainder of the school day flew. Michelle entered the library with her school bag packed for the weekend’s homework assignments. She laid the bag on an empty study table and looked around for Mr. Purdue. Nick waved to her from a reference aisle pausing in his task of putting away books that had been left out throughout the day. Michelle, seeing no one else, walked over to join him.

When she was close enough to hear without shouting, Nick said, “Mr. Purdue is waiting for you in his office.”

“Oh.” Michelle stopped after another step. Her intentions wavered in the face of uncertainty. She had thought he wanted to talk to her, but clearly he was only doing his duty as a library aide. He still deserved an apology from her, even with the explanation she wanted to give him, her behavior toward him hadn’t been justified.

Nick turned more fully toward her with a book in his hand. He seemed to sense her hesitation and the reason for it. “We can talk later. You don’t want to keep Mr. Purdue waiting.”

“Alright.” Michelle nodded, relieved he wasn’t too angry with her. She turned away from him and walked toward Mr. Purdue’s office behind the information counter. The door to his office was open and she could see him sitting behind his desk, shuffling through a mess of papers. On His right, a school paddle rested on top of a dictionary. She stopped in the doorway and knocked on the frame. “You wanted to see me?”

Mid-shuffle, Mr. Purdue looked up and nodded. “Good, you’re early. Come in.”

Michelle took two steps inside his office, but remained a safe distance away from his desk and the paddle. Her gaze kept drifting toward the prominent wooden implement though she tried to remain focused on Mr. Purdue. “Did you call my father?”

“I did,” Mr. Purdue said. He stood, pushing his padded chair back against the wall. “As I suspected he was very interested in your discovery. I suspect he is rather proud of you, though he and I are in agreement that your actions have been risky.”

“I’ve taken precautions,” Michelle said. She chewed on her lower lip looking at his disbelieving face. “It’s not like I didn’t try to get someone to listen to me first.”

Mr. Purdue’s lowered chin and narrowed eyes disagreed. “You should have gone straight to your father.”

Michelle breathed out her disappointment while her gaze flicked to the paddle again. Mr. Purdue stepped around his desk and blocked her view. He sat on the front edge recapturing her attention. He shook his head at her, offering support in the form of a sympathetic smile. She considered the possibility she had misread the paddle’s placement— That it could have been meant for someone else or even no one at all.

Mr. Purdue said, “I understand why you would go to Miles first. He’s your older brother and you look up to him. That’s not wrong, but contrary to what you might think, he’s not infallible. He was wrong to dismiss your concerns and even more so to suggest going to your father would be improper and you should have realized that. He made an incorrect assumption about your intentions and knowing that as you did, you should have gone to your father without any fear of reprisal.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Michelle said.

“Has your father ever given you reason to think you would be treated unfairly?” Mr. Purdue asked.

Michelle’s gaze dropped to the floor. Her father was strict, but try as she may, she could not recall a single time he had ever punished her or even one of her siblings for something they hadn’t done. In truth, he’d often allowed her to get away things he’d never have allowed from the others. Unfair to her siblings perhaps, but certainly not to her. “No,” she said.

“You made a mistake,” Mr. Purdue said. The bluntness made Michelle blink. “It’s alright, you’re young and it’s just part of growing up.”

Emboldened by his casual, semi-supportive tone, she raised her head to meet his eyes. It sounded as if her mistake only deserved a mild lecture. She didn’t feel the need to object. “I guess I should have handled it differently.”

“I would say there isn’t much ‘guessing’ about it,” he said. “Allowing a boy, any boy, but especially a boy like Cody to grope you in exchange for anything is beyond poor judgment. Fortunately, the damage is mostly limited to your reputation.”

Michelle said, “I’ve never been too concerned with what my classmates think of me. Their opinions change more often that the weather anyway. By this time next week, they’ll have completely forgotten I ever even talked to Cody.”

“I hope you’re right,” Mr. Purdue said, watching her with an intense gaze, “but the question remains; How will this effect your decisions in the future?”

Confused, Michelle bit at her lip and raised her eyebrows. Cody would soon be a thing of her past, not her future. “Sir?”

Mr. Purdue sighed and glanced out the interior window to the main room of the library. Nick was settling the rest of the afternoon detention attendees to their assigned spaces and giving them their work assignment. Most would be writing lines or doing some written work correlated to the offense that landed them in detention, but a few of the more trust-worthy would be helping Nick straighten shelves and put away books.

He turned back to Michelle and said, “You’ve started down a dangerous path with Cody, using sex to get what you wanted.”

Her jaw dropped and she inhaled sharply. It was the only immense respect she had for Mr. Purdue which kept her from lashing out at him. The very thought of sex with Cody rattled her to her core and that Mr. Purdue would even think such a thing despite her earlier assurances to the contrary, felt nothing short of betrayal. The hurt moistened her eyes with tears.

She said, “I would never— How could you even think—

The tears burst from her eyes. She wiped angrily at her cheeks, sniffling back the outburst threatening to overwhelm her. Mr. Purdue lifted a pair of tissues from the box on his desk and crossed the few feet between them. She snatched them from his fingers and turned her head away as she wiped at her face.

“I did not mean to imply you engaged in intercourse with Cody,” Mr. Purdue said. He stepped back, giving her room to breathe. “Sex is more than the act of coupling. It can be provocative actions, as simple as a tone of voice and as complex as the excretion of pheromones.”

“Oh,” Michelle said. She dabbed at the slowing flow of tears from her eyes. Her cheeks turned pink, embarrassed about the misunderstanding and her reaction to it. Still, her chest remained panged by the possibility those closest to her might think less of her for her interactions with Cody. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.”

Mr. Purdue waited until Michelle stopped sponging tears and turned back to him. “What I mean is you used Cody’s sexual desires to manipulate him into doing what you wanted. It might not seem like much to you now, but now that you’ve ventured into this arena and seen how easily it can get you what you want, you might find it tempting to continue.”

Michelle shook her head. “After Cody sends me those pictures, I have no intention of even looking in his direction again.”

A smile graced Mr. Purdue’s lips and he chuckled. “I wasn’t referring to Cody so much as future situations where you find getting what you want out of some other man is difficult. It could be a college professor you feel is grading you too hard or an employer who isn’t rewarding your hard work as well as you feel is deserved. Whatever the situation, using your sex appeal to get what you want from men works and it’s easy. The problem is that it comes with a heavy price; Your self-respect and the respect of those who care about you.”

“What you’re saying is men are pigs,” Michelle said, “but if I use the fact against them, I’ll be the one branded immoral.”

“Not all men are the same,” Mr. Purdue said, “but yes, when you exploit your sexuality, you’re going to pay a much heavier price for it than the men who take advantage of it. It’s unfair, but that’s life.”

“Do you really think,” Michelle said, “after Cody and his brother are exposed, anyone will give a second thought to how I got the pictures?”

Mr. Purdue shook his head. “The point is not about what others think, it’s about what you think of yourself and whether or not you will repeat this sort of behavior in the future.”

The paddle on his desk re-entered Michelle’s thoughts. She’d felt certain it was for her from the moment she saw it, but in the ensuing conversation she had began to doubt her instinct. “You’re going to spank me for this?”

He twisted to look behind him at the paddle and turned back to Michelle. “No,” he said, “I felt a discussion was warranted, but I believe punishment is unwarranted over this matter. I only hope you’ve learned from the experience and will take my words into consideration should you be tempted to do such a thing again in the future.”

She smiled, almost giddy with relief. “I think that’s very fair of you.”

“I’m pleased you approve,” Mr. Purdue said. “However, there remains the matter of your earlier language.”

The smile faded along with her hopes of escaping his office without feeling the paddle’s burn. “It won’t happen again,” she said, hoping to encourage some leniency.

Mr. Purdue adopted a firm stance. “It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.”

Michelle remained quiet. He was right of course and agreeing with him wasn’t going to do anything except possibly make him think she was trying to manipulate him. And silence agreement had advantages too, because it wasn’t an argument and it wasn’t an excuse.

He twisted behind him to retrieve the paddle and then, using it like a pointer, he indicated a spot in the middle of the open space before his desk. “Stand here and remove your blazer.”

Her knees went weak as she took the necessary two steps to comply. The breath in her lungs felt thin and hot, washing her entire body in a tingling numbness. She shrugged out of her blazer and he took it from her unsteady hand, laying it to rest on his desktop. Her eyes wandered to the interior window overlooking the larger library and the handful of detention attendees busy with their assignments. She knew they would see nothing, the glass of the window was tinted black on the other side making it a virtual one-way looking glass, but she also knew they would hear every pop and any noise she might make in response.

“Four swats for four-letter vulgarity sounds appropriate,” Mr. Purdue said, “don’t you agree?”

Michelle nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Touch your toes,” Mr. Purdue said.

She adjusted her legs slightly farther apart and leaned down stretching her arms toward the tops of her shoes. Her school skirt rode up until it barely cover her thighs. The heated air blowing in from the vent in the ceiling felt cold on her legs. She closed her eyes.

He tapped the paddle against her skirt and raised his arm as far back as he could before swinging it down hard. The crack of impact echoed like thunder in the small room. Michelle imagined her peers jolted from their work and staring blankly at the tinted window for a moment. Then their faces broke into amused, knowing smiles. They could see nothing, but still they knew. She breathed through the sharp tingles left behind in the wake of the swat.

Michelle’s eyes popped open on the paddle’s return visit. Her skirt fluttered against her legs. The tingles grew more pronounced and the temperature began to rise. She took a deep breath and squeezed her hands into fists, resisting the urge to leap up and grab at her bottom. The instinct faded, even as the warmth and prickling grew. She relaxed her hands and her fingertips resumed their place on the tops of her shoes.

Mr. Purdue waited until the tension in her stretched body reduced from the weathering of pain. Her muscles tightened even more than before upon the third impact of the paddle. She cried out softly, unable to remain quiet, but still painfully aware of the listening audience just on the other side of the window. Her butt screamed its discomfort through her nerves and she endured it with ragged breath and tears stinging in her eyes.

The fourth swat followed before she had fully assimilated the third. She yelped louder and surrendered to reflex, leaping upward and grabbing at her buttocks. Her hands dived beneath her skirt and rubbed directly against her panties, desperate to assuage the fiery skin beneath. She hopped in place all too aware of how ridiculous she looked and thankful it was only Mr. Purdue witnessing her humiliation and not her peers.

“Settle down,” Mr. Purdue said. He laid the paddle to rest on his desk and handed her another tissue.

After another few seconds of hopping she took the tissue and dabbed the tears from the corners of her eyes. Her bottom continued to sting and burn hotter with every passing moment. She looked out the window, expecting to see everyone staring back in her direction, but the other students remained seemingly focused on the assignments. Swallowing her embarrassment, she turned back to face Mr. Purdue.

He lifted the dictionary from his desk and proffered it in her direction. “For the rest of your detention, I want you to come up with 20 alternative words you could have used instead of ‘shit’ and write them down along with their full definition from the dictionary. Hopefully, you’ll think to use one of them in the future.”

Michelle bit on her lip and took the dictionary, nodding. “Yes, sir.” She hesitated a moment before turning toward the door.

When she reached the doorway, Mr. Purdue said, “Oh, your father asked me to take you home this afternoon on account of the rain and your detention.”

Michelle nodded and left his office. She settled in the vacant table where she had left her bag and started her assignment. A buzzing noise emanated from her bag and she glanced around to make sure no one was watching before reaching into it and pulling out her phone. Despite the uncomfortable sting pulsing in her bottom, she smiled looking at the screen. Cody had finally come through and she had the proof she needed for her father and Miles.

The Winter Storm, Part 12

“Rachel,” Mrs. Bennett said entering the living room. Rachel stood beside the fireplace pretending not to be watching as Jennifer sat on her stool writing away on the lines Miles had assigned. “Come along, it’s time for you to do some more work.”

Telling Rachel twice wasn’t necessary. She lowered her tired arms from their station keeping at her head and quickly joined her mother on the other side of the living room. Chores weren’t on the top of her list of fun activities, but nearly anything beat standing beside the fireplace with her arms raised. “What fun do I get to have now?” she asked.

Mrs. Bennett led the way out of the living room to the foot of the stairs. A bucket filled with soap and water rested on the bottom step against the wall. On the rim, a cleaning cloth was draped and floating inside, a yellow sponge peeked in and out of the water. Mrs. Bennett stopped next to the rail and gestured upward at the staircase. “Since you and Richard scuffed my stairs with your antics this morning, it seems only fair that you clean off the marks.”

Rachel looked up the stairs. There were a few scuffs, black and white marks visible on the steps, but none of them were large nor were they even on every step. As far as chores went, she expected it would be easy enough. “Sounds fair,” she said.

“You’re being awfully amicable,” Mrs. Bennett said. “Perhaps we’re finally getting through to you.”

Rachel shrugged and picked up the bucket. There was nothing she could say to her mother that wouldn’t come off as either facetious or patronizing. She climbed the first step and paused, glancing back at her mother. “I’ll start at the top and work my way down, okay?”

Mrs. Bennett nodded. “Just make certain those steps shine when you’re finished.”

“Yes, Mother,” Rachel said and climbed the stairs until she was only a few steps short of the top landing. She laid the bucket to rest and sat next to it. Though she would have liked to rest there a while she figured her mother would be keeping track of her progress and making issues if it wasn’t up to her expectations. Rachel reached into the bucket and rang out the sponge.

She had only finished scrubbing the third step when she heard the sounds of footsteps rising up from below. Her father climbed past her without a word. She was relieved at first, but as he went by she noticed the slim battery held in his hand. It was the one he had taken earlier from her phone. It was too much to hope he was simply returning it to her bedroom. Her thoughts ran wild toward his intentions and a panic quickened her heartbeat at the possible things he might discover if he invaded her phone.

A click, echoing out from her bedroom, propelled her into action. She dropped the sponge on the step and ran to her bedroom. Inside the doorway she stopped face to face with her father. He held her phone in his hands, the battery snapped back into place and the screen lit with life. For a moment she forgot herself and her situation allowing anger to boil over and control her actions.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Her voice echoed loud and trembled with the ghost of confidence she had thought lost for the weekend along with most of her clothes.

Mr. Bennett looked up from the lit screen. “Who were you talking to earlier?”

“That’s none of your business,” Rachel said. The back of her head pounded with the possibility he already knew the answer to his question.

“If you paid your own phone bill, I’d agree,” Mr. Bennett said, “but you don’t. Now are you going to tell me or should I press redial?”

“Why do you even care?” she asked. Anything to slow him down and give her time to think.

His thumb hovered over the button. “Because it’s quite clear you’ve been up to something and if it’s what I suspect, the sooner you tell me, the better it’s going to be for both of us.”

“It was just a friend,” Rachel said. She knew he didn’t believe her.

He pressed the button. Rachel gasped and grabbed at the phone trying to take it away from him. He put the phone to his ear and warned her to stay back with a wag of his free hand’s index finger. Her lips trembled with Julian’s name on them as she listened to the muffled ringing.

The ringing stopped and Julian answered. “Hello.”

Mr. Bennett nodded at Rachel as if he had expected Julian to answer. “Julian?” he said into the phone.

Rachel tried to control herself and remain calm while listening to Julian’s disembodied voice whispering from her phone. “Yes,” Julian said. “Mr. Bennett is that you?”

“It is.”

Julian sounded confused. “Why are you calling me from Rachel’s phone. Is she alright?”

Mr. Bennett stared into Rachel’s eyes. “I wasn’t sure who I was calling. I had thought you and Rachel were no longer a couple.”

“We’re not,” Julian said, “but we’re still friends. I hope that’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” Mr. Bennett said. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.” He ended the call before Julian could respond. Focused on Rachel, he asked, “Would you care to explain?”

“My personal life is none of your business,” Rachel said. A mixture of relief and anger emboldened her in the conflict. He didn’t know anything that really mattered and if she kept him focused on her relationship with Julian, he never would.

Mr. Bennett sat the phone aside on her dresser. “When it interferes with my professional life, it is entirely my business. Now what’s going on?”

Rachel said, “My relationship with the son of someone you do business with is not interfering with your professional life. How dare you accuse me of more crap like this when it ought to be obvious your real professional problem is the girl downstairs.”

“This isn’t about Jennifer,” Mr. Bennett said.

Rachel shook her head. “No, it’s not. It’s about Miles being led around by his dick and not seeing what’s right in front of him and about you trusting a stranger before you trust me.”

Mr. Bennett said, “I can understand why you’re angry, but that’s not an excuse for getting yourself mixed up with Julian again.”

“Mixed up?” Rachel crossed her arms in front of her and glared at her father. “What the hell are you accusing me of now?”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” Mr. Bennett said. “I think you’ve been angry, with me, with Miles, with Jennifer, maybe with the whole family. And I would understand if you’ve been lashing out at us because you feel like we’re not on your side.”

Rachel shook her head. “The skank on the stool downstairs tells you I’m in some sort of cahoots with Julian and you believe her just because I still talk to him. Never mind that I dated him for four years and we parted amicably. If I’m talking to him, I must be up to whatever nefarious plot she accuses me of, isn’t that what’s really going on here?”

Mr. Bennett asked, “Why did you call him this morning?”

“You’ve already decided why,” Rachel said.

“I’m giving you a chance to defend yourself,” Mr. Bennett said.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “You’ve got nothing but suspicions generated from a lying whore and I’m supposed to defend myself?”

“Why don’t you just answer my question and save the drama?” Mr. Bennett said.

Rachel huffed. “It’s not like you’d believe anything I tell you.”

Mr. Bennett said, “If you don’t tell me anything, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“You could choose to trust me,” Rachel said.

“When you won’t answer a simple question?” Mr. Bennett asked. “Give me a reason why I should.”

Rachel’s lips puckered into a sour expression of frustration. “I’m your daughter and she’s a fifteen dollar an hour whore that keeps your son happy.”

Mr. Bennett took a deep breath and asked, “Why did you call Julian this morning?”

Rachel groaned and glanced out the window. The rain was falling slanted and she could see the trees leaning hard toward the ground across the street. It wouldn’t take much for them to topple, but they would resist to the very last so that if they did splinter and fall what remained would be best and strongest of the tree.

“To piss you off,” she said. It was her resistance to his storm.

“I want the truth,” Mr. Bennett said.

Rachel turned back to him. “Oh. In that case, I was plotting out Jennifer’s next accident. You know I was really hoping she’d drown with her car, but you know what they say about plans.”

“I’m not laughing,” Mr. Bennett said.

“Neither am I,” Rachel said.

“I want a straight answer out of you,” Mr. Bennett said. “Why did you call Julian?”

“Straight? Hmm,” Rachel shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m into guys not girls. Is that straight enough?”

“You’re asking for a spanking,” Mr. Bennett said.

“Strange,” Rachel said, “I don’t recall doing that. Of course, I don’t recall not doing my job either before you fired me for that. I guess I just get all mixed up and don’t know my head from my ass sometimes.”

Mr. Bennett grabbed hold of her arm and dragged her to the side of the bed. He sat down and tossed her over his lap, planting her head into her pillows. Rachel kicked her legs and tried to squirm free, but he wrapped an arm around her mid-section, effectively pinning her to him. He raised his hand and cracked down on her panty-clad bottom.

“I’ve— had— enough— of— your— bad— attitude,” he said, swatting her bottom to emphasize every word.

Rachel pounded the mattress in frustration. “And you think spanking me is going to help? You’re an idiot!”

Mr. Bennett stopped spanking and slipped his fingers into the waistband of her panties. With a side-to-side wriggling motion, he pulled them down off her bottom, until they slid down her legs to her ankles. He returned to spanking her with his hand, employing enough force to bounce her bottom into a fiery red.

He said, “I’ve given you chance after chance today and you’ve done nothing but throw them back in my face.”

“Yeah you’ve been real generous,” Rachel said. “Give me a one percent chance to stay out of trouble and then wonder why I don’t.”

Mr. Bennett said, “Not only have you lost all your clothes for the weekend, but I’m going to make sure you don’t sit comfortably for the next week. If you’d like to go for two, just keep smarting off.”

Rachel almost responded, but self-preservation kicked in at the last moment. Her bottom was starting to really burn for third time of the day and making her father angrier while he was spanking seemed like a bad idea. Still, the frustration of her situation burned inside her because she felt certain between the two of them she had the greater right to anger. Of course if he knew the full truth of the things she’d been up to with Julian, he would disagree more than he already did. She endured the wrath of his hardened hand in silence.

Mr. Bennett stopped spanking when he noticed he was having no effect on her. She had even stopped kicking her legs and grunting with the fall of his hand. He rolled her off his lap onto the bed and stood up, shaking his head.

“One way or another I’m going to find out what you’ve been doing,” he said. “In the meantime you can stand in front of the window, facing out, with your hands on your head.”

Rachel stared at him in anger. She wanted to tell him off some more, but it was a battle she knew she would lose. It was better to wait for everything to come together and then rub his face in how much he had underestimated her. She climbed up from the bed and stood in front of the window. The light reflected in the window and she found herself staring at her reflection. It seemed strange seeing the raindrops running down the cheeks of the girl in the window while her own remained dry.

Behind her, Mr. Bennett began pulling open drawers and ruffling through her belongings. She would have laughed if her circumstances had been different. How could he think her capable of such masterful planning against Jennifer and yet think she would be dumb enough to leave evidence laying around for him to find? The real evidence, the evidence he didn’t even know to look for, was on her phone and if she could get her hands on it for just a few seconds, it would be gone. She just hoped he wouldn’t think to go back to it before she got the opportunity.

The Winter Storm, Part 11

“We have a serious problem,” Mr. Bennett said.

Miles sat back in his chair listening to the rain pattering on the patio outside the office window. The phone on his father’s desk remained prominently positioned between them though it was no longer hosting a call. Miles could see his own realizations from the call reflected his father’s stare— Julian Harper had somehow managed to duplicate nearly all the legal forms and policy notifications built into the Bennett’s software. For Harper & Son, it was a blessing just short of a miracle considering the young woman Julian had chosen to discipline had walked out on them, but the facts could only mean someone on the Bennett’s side had given Julian proprietary information.

Protracting a tired exhale, Miles shook his head. “You don’t think Jennifer...”

“Her or Rachel,” Mr. Bennett said. He rested his hands on the desktop and looked to the family picture sitting on the front edge of his desk. “I don’t much like thought of it being either of them, but unless you’re going tell me you did it, it’s got to be one of them.”

Miles sat forward. A deep desire for another possibility burned within him though he could think of nothing more plausible than the betrayal his father suggested. Ignoring the unpleasantness of reality would only make matters worse. He said, “We need to get to the bottom of this.”

“I agree.” Mr. Bennett nodded, taking his eyes off the picture and refocusing on his son. “However I doubt more spanking will yield anything from either of them. I suppose it might be worthwhile to check the call history on their phones.”

Invading the privacy of his girlfriend and his sister felt a bit too sleazy to Miles. Without knowing the details, the call histories would only lead to guesses and suspicions. They already had enough of both. What they needed were facts.

“I don’t see that helping,” Miles said. “We need a smoking gun to get the truth out of them.”

Mr. Bennett blinked at Miles and then chuckled. “For a moment there I thought you said ‘smoking bun’ and I was going to point out we already have two sets in the living room.”

“Too true,” Miles said, barely containing his laughter, “but like you said, more spanking isn’t the answer.”

The phone rang. Mr. Bennett answered it after the second ring, leaving Miles to contemplate how best to trick Jennifer or Rachel into confessing. His father straightened in his chair and seemed to take an intense interest in his new conversation. From the parts he caught, Miles realized it had something to do with Michelle and school. He shook his head, wondering how every female in the household could manage to land in trouble on the same day. His mother was apparently the sole exception, but the day wasn’t over yet either.

Mr. Bennett hung the phone up. “You aren’t going to believe this,” he said.

Miles chuckled. “My darling little sister has gotten herself paddled at school?”

“Not quite yet,” Mr. Bennett said. “Michelle has apparently uncovered the smoking gun you we’re hoping for.”

Miles blinked surprise. “What?”

“You might have listened to her a few weeks back and we could have avoided some of this,” Mr. Bennett said.

“I’m missing something,” Miles said.

Mr. Bennett nodded. “Apparently Michelle came to you with a story about Jennifer at the DMV.”

Miles groaned remembering the incident. “Right. She was trying to stand up for Rachel and make Jennifer look bad.”

“That’s not exactly right,” Mr. Bennett said. “She was trying to help Jennifer, but her timing was bad due to the whole blowup with Rachel.”

“Help Jennifer?” Miles shook his head. “How?”

“Apparently,” Mr. Bennett said, “Jennifer got herself mixed up with some character at the DMV. Michelle figured out this guy has a thing for blackmailing attractive females who are in danger of losing their license.”

Miles recalled Rachel’s words to Jennifer when they’d first arrived home. It had sounded like bickering at the time, but even so he’d had the immediate impression Rachel knew something he didn’t.

Nodding at his father, Miles said, “Things are starting to add up. After Jennifer’s accident last October, the judge threatened her license if she was cited again for anything during the next year. Rachel must know something because she was taunting Jennifer about covering up an accident report  earlier. I dismissed it as just more sniping, but it seems there is something there after all.”

Mr. Bennett leaned back from his desk. “If Rachel is aware of the incident we can probably get the details from her, but it seems we already have the answer to our other question. Jennifer probably isn’t selling off company secrets. All she’s hiding is the way this Brody character has been blackmailing her into accepting punishment from him to keep her license. It probably explains why she’s falling behind in her work too.”

“Brody?” Miles asked. He recalled the traffic officer when he picked up Jennifer downtown. The man had given him the creeps at the time and the way he leered at Jennifer was enough to make Miles want to slug the bastard, but he had restrained himself on account of the uniform. “I met that bastard this morning when I picked up Jennifer.” He shook his head feeling stupid and blind for not seeing the truth straight away. “I knew something was up between them, but I couldn’t figure what it was. So, he the one who spanked her today and not Raven’s Gym?”

Mr. Bennett said, “It would appear that way. I called Raven’s Gym earlier and while they confirmed Jennifer dropped off their update this morning, they denied punishing her. I thought they were just keeping it quiet for her, but obviously in light of this new information, they were probably telling the truth.”

“So how do we proceed?” Miles asked, looking to his father for leadership.

“We talk to Rachel,” Mr. Bennett said. “She’ll happily divulge whatever she knows about Jennifer’s situation and from there we can probably get Jennifer to spill what she knows about Rachel. If my guess is correct, they both know enough to hang the other.”

Miles nodded in agreement though he wasn’t certain Jennifer would know anything about Rachel selling out. It just seemed the sort of thing she would have happily shared with him, but then he hadn’t expected her to hide anything from him. “I’ll talk to Rachel then.”

Rachel and Jennifer were standing on either side of the fireplace when Miles walked into the living room. The flickering fire light gave their naked skin an orange glow, while their shadows danced on the ceiling. Rachel still had the modesty provided by a pair of panties. Jennifer was completely naked and looking like she’d just sucked on a rotten egg, the lasting effect of a mouth soaping. They were both staring at him with their hands resting on top of their heads. It was clear neither of them wanted to be seen by him.

“Rachel,” he said, looking at his sister, “come with me. We have something to discuss.”

He escorted Rachel from the room and led her upstairs to his old bedroom. Once inside he closed the door, ensuring them privacy. Rachel stood beside his old bed, her arms nervously wrapped in front of her naked breasts. Miles took note of her discomfort and grabbed a pillow, giving it to her. She took it gratefully and hugged it to her chest.

“Don’t tell Dad,” Miles said, with a curt nod at the pillow.

Rachel’s lips curled upward in something resembling a smile. “The thought never crossed my mind. Does he even know we’re up here?”

Miles nodded. “We know about the accident.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Accident?”

“Now really isn’t a good time to play games with me,” Miles said. “Jennifer was in an accident and she’s been doing her best to keep it a secret, no doubt in part because she’s trying to avoid losing her license.”

Rachel shrugged. “Okay. So what’s it got to do with me?”

Miles stared at his sister hoping she would figure out that talking to him was a better option than playing silly games. She appeared oblivious. He held his hand out and said, “Fine, give it to me.”

Rachel blinked at him. “What?”

“Give me the pillow,” he said. “If you aren’t going to cooperate with me, there is no point in me being nice.”

“Wait,” Rachel said, squeezing the pillow tighter.

“I’m not playing around,” Miles said. “I want to know what you know about Jennifer’s accident and you can either start talking or you can give me back the pillow and we’ll take a trip out front and try to jog your memory with a few exercises in the driveway.”

Rachel gaped at him.

He said, “Make up your mind or I’ll make it up for you.”

“She rear ended Julian in the parking lot of Harper & Son,” Rachel said.

“Julian?” Miles asked attempting to blink away the stunning development. “Are you certain?”

“He told me himself and he even showed me some pictures from the accident,” she said. “I bet she was driving at least 30mph.”

Thinking back over the past two months, Miles couldn’t figure out how he would have missed seeing damage like that on Jennifer’s car. “Why didn’t I ever see the damage?”

Rachel shrugged. “Julian said he felt sorry for her and offered to pay for the damage even though it was clearly her fault. He even told her if she took a driving class down at the DMV he wouldn’t report it. I’m guessing she took it since she apparently hasn’t lost her license or has she?”

Miles shook his head. “How did you find out about this?”

“I ran into Julian at the college shortly after it happened. He hadn’t fixed his car yet and when I asked, he explained,” Rachel said.

“You should have told me,” Miles said.

Rachel scoffed at him. “Really? And what was going to make you listen to me? I told you and Dad all about Jennifer and neither of you paid any attention. I wasn’t about to waste my breath over something else I couldn’t prove.”

“You’re sure Julian paid for the damage?” Miles asked.

Rachel huffed. “Why don’t you just ask him yourself. All I know is what he told me. If you think it’s a lie, confront the source, but sooner or later you better open your eyes and see Jennifer for the bitch she is.”

Miles sighed and shook his. “Alright. You better head back down to the living room. And if you don’t mind, send Jennifer up here.”

Rachel nodded. “Alright,” she said and stood up walking to the door. She paused and handed him back the pillow before turning the knob and walking out.

A few minutes later, Jennifer arrived, looking relieved for the relative privacy of his room. Miles didn’t want her to feel relieved. “Stand straight and put your hands back on your head,” he said.

“Come on Miles,” she said. “My arms are tired and it’s just us.”

“Hands,” he said, pointing at her head.

She huffed at him, but raised her hands back up on her head. “Happy?”

“Not even close,” he said. “So not only have you been hiding another accident from me, but it turns out you hit none other than Julian Harper. I shouldn’t be surprised considering we discovered earlier Julian is in possession of proprietary information from our company, but I was really hoping you weren’t involved.”

“What?” Jennifer blinked at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just like you don’t know who Brody is?” Miles asked.

“I told you he was some guy from my high school days,” she said.

“Right,” he said, nodding his head. “You just forgot to mention that he also happens to be blackmailing you for your license.”

“What would give you that idea?” she asked.

“My nosy little sister who I should have listened to weeks ago,” Miles said.

“Well she’s full of shit,” Jennifer said.

“She has pictures,” Miles said.

Jennifer scowled. “Let’s see them.”

“As soon as she gets home we’ll have a nice long look,” Miles said. “Right now, you need to start telling me the truth because if you don’t, I’m going to be making you miserable the rest of the afternoon.”

She rolled her eyes. “As if I’m not already?” Jennifer said, “I’ve been telling you the truth anyway. It’s not going to change no matter how much you want it to.”

“Fine,” Miles said. He grabbed hold of her elbow and dragged her along behind him, heading out his bedroom door and back down the stair to the living room. Jennifer followed without much protest, but when he paused to look into her eyes he could see she was worried about her immediate future.

“Wait in front of the fireplace,” he said.

Jennifer slowly walked to the fireplace. Rachel stood off to the right side watching. They scowled at each other as Jennifer took her place. Miles left the room and returned a few minutes later with a wooden stool from the dinning room and a clipboard with a pen from his father’s office. He dropped the stool in front of the fireplace next to Jennifer.

“Sit down, “ He said, pointing at the hard seat of the stool.

“I think I’d rather stand,” Jennifer said.

“I don’t think I care,” Miles said, pointing at the seat of the stool. “Sit the fuck down and don’t make me say it again.”

Jennifer stared him in the eye for a long quiet moment filled with only the sound of the crackling fire behind her. She must have read the determination burning in him because she climbed onto the stool without further protest. He handed her the clipboard and pen which she took with raised eyebrows.

Miles said, “You are going to sit here and write, ‘Big, small or otherwise, I will not tell any lies.’ 500 times.  You are not going to squirm or make any fuss, you are simply going to write your lines and when you’re all done you can look forward to writing apologies to all of the clients you’ve failed over that last two months and after that, you will write a very long and thorough apology to Rachel.”

“What am I,” Jennifer asked, glaring at Miles, “a fucking five years old?”

“Throw me one more bit of attitude and I swear I’ll stick a bar of soap in your mouth for the entire time your writing too,” Miles said.

Jennifer rolled her eyes and said, “Geez.”

Miles turned on his heel and took a step in the direction of the kitchen.

“Alright, alright,” Jennifer said. “I’ll write your damn lines, but do you think I could sit at table or something?”

Miles turned back to her. “You’ll write right where you are and on that clipboard. Now are you going to behave yourself or should I go get the soap?”

Jennifer frowned at the clipboard. “I’ll behave,” she said.

“I don’t think I quite believe that yet, but we’ll see,” Mile said. “Now anytime you feel like telling me the truth about what you’ve been doing with Julian and Brody over these last several weeks, just start talking. Otherwise, keep quiet  and write your lines. Understood?”

“Yes,” Jennifer said with as much attitude as she dared.

Miles paced the floor in front of her and Rachel. “I am so disappointed in you right now,” he said. “A man, an uneducated slob of an excuse for a man, threatens to take your license away if you don’t let him spank you and you don’t even bother to tell me about it. How can I possibly trust anything you say after this?”

Jennifer paused in her writing and looked at Miles, chewing on her lower lip. “It’s not like that.”

Miles snapped his fingers. “Did I tell you to stop writing?”

Jennifer shook her head.

“Then why aren’t you writing. Can’t you write and listen at the same time. Is that too difficult for you? Am I expecting too much out of you? Let me tell you, I’ve got half a mind to drop you on Julian’s doorstep and let him do whatever he wants with you.”

“Miles,” she said, her voice pleading for sympathy.

“Are you ready to tell me the truth?” he asked.

Jennifer stared at him, tears welling in her eyes.

“I didn’t think so,” he said. He snapped his fingers and pointed at the clipboard in her hand. “Write.”

Jennifer raised the pen to the clipboard and resumed her lines. Tears spilled out of her eyes and she sniffled. She shifted her weight on the stool clearly being made uncomfortable by the warmth of the fire on her backside. She looked up at Miles.

“Okay,” she said. “I was in an accident with Julian and that jackass Brody has been blackmailing for his own sick purposes and I let him because I didn’t want you to find out about the accident, not to mention I didn’t want to lose my license. But that’s it. I haven’t given Julian anything except cash to fix his car.”

Miles shook his head. “We know he’s been getting the information from you. If you aren’t going to tell the whole truth don’t bother with any of it. Just keep on writing until the message sinks in.”

“I am telling you the whole truth,” Jennifer said. “Brody whipped the hell out of me this morning and just for his own pleasure. I let him because if I didn’t he would revoke my license and it’s just a few more days until he has to submit the final recommendation on my license. By this time next week it will all be over.”

“And what about your deal with Julian?” Miles asked.

Jennifer said, “The only deal I had with him is to pay him cash in weekly installments for the damage to his car. I swear there is nothing else. If someone has been feeding him information maybe you should ask Rachel. She used to date him. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had him set me up for the accident just to be able to use me to cover her own tracks.”

Miles stopped his pacing and stared directly at Jennifer. “What did you say?”

Jennifer pointed at Rachel. “I said she probably set the whole damn thing up to cover her own tracks.”

Miles stopped staring at Jennifer and turned his attention to Rachel. She wasn’t saying anything. She wasn’t even moving, but there was a glint in her eyes, reflecting the firelight. It flickered like pride and guilt waging a war for dominance. Miles looked away and then turned back to Jennifer.

He said, “Write your lines and keep your mouth shut. I’ll be back in a little while to check on your progress.” He left the room for his father office. Things were definitely more complicated than they had thought and if he had it right, there was more than enough guilt to go around between Rachel and Jennifer.