Thought storage post

Disclaimer: 'kay, this post sums things up for me and offers a kind of "introduction" to my blog. I am working to make sure it stays in the top spot of my homepage but if it doesn't, sorry and you need to go look for it.


Just trying to be helpful

Here’s another chapter in the Sam/Tina chronicles. You might want to check out “Who needs statistics anyway?” It kind of gives a flavor of their relationship. Just a thought. Hope you enjoy.

Great…just great. Here I am, sitting in the dark with the TV as my only company. I wonder just how far my lower lip can extend in my quest to achieve the perfect pout. It’s a way to pass the time. The remote (aka beloved) has not been helpful in finding a tolerable distraction among the gazillion cable channels. No, no help at all.

Katrina (yeah, definitely full name time) was supposed to be here two hours ago. Did she make it? No! She most certainly did not make it for the candlelight dinner I had painstakingly prepared. Was there an occasion- hell no!! I made it just because. I know what you’re thinking…how sweet is that. We’re on the same page.

“Hi honey,” I hear as she enters the front door. At least I hope it’s her. I don’t answer...I don’t want to ruin my perfect pout. It’s amazing...I can actually see most of my lower lip if I look down just right. Shoes kicked off in the foyer, keys thrown in the basket and finally, finally, I hear her making her way into the kitchen.

There it is. “Oh shit.” She saw the table.

“Sam, Sammie honey, where are you?”

I have no intention of answering would severely compromise my perfect pout plus I enjoy the view from my cross (decided to climb on it right after perfecting my pout…something to do). Doesn’t take long before I feel her standing in the doorway. She knows me well, knows I will be sitting in the rocking chair looking out the window while the TV is flickering in the dark room.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry,” I hear as she wraps her arms around me. I, of course, can’t answer. Perfect pout thing.

She feels for the switch and turns on the light (we had to get rid of our clapper because it turned into the occasional strobe light, guess when?!) and gently reaches toward me. I remain still. Nope, not going to make this easy for her.

Ever so gently I feel her hands on both sides of my face. She tilts my face up until she can see my eyes…and I can see hers. I see regret reflected in her face. I know she sees hurt in mine (of course, the pout helps).

“I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me when I called to say I would be late?” Oh yeah, forgot to mention that detail but it doesn’t in any way diminish my righteous indignation. I’m not about to climb down off my cross.

“I knew you needed to finish the project.” As I am pulled into her arms I decide maybe the pout can go away. For now but I’m keeping that baby in reserve!! Besides, I’m hungry. She feels my shoulders relax and we both know all is forgiven (yeah, I’ve climbed down off the cross but I’m still carrying it on my back).

“Come on Tina, let’s salvage my gourmet meal. Oh, you get clean up detail and I expect a back rub.” She can see the gleam in my eye and slight impish grin as I make my way slowly (heavy cross, remember) to the kitchen. She smiles and follows me while landing a playful swat. What can I say…that woman loves my backside!!

“Honey, this was a wonderful meal. Thank you so much.” Now, it is coincidental that I made this gourmet meal for my Tina on the same day our car insurance renewal is due. JUST a coincidence. That is all…a coincidence.

See, I had gotten a speeding ticket...okay, two but the last one really wasn’t my fault. I was passing a truck I had been following for ten years. Finally the merciful Zeus smiled down upon me and kindly presented a very small window of opportunity to pass. Of course, I took it (at 80mph). Who knew a cop would be hiding behind the Dunkin’ Donuts billboard? I was certainly surprised.

These unfortunate events happened over the course of several (okay one) month and I, being the responsible adult I am, paid the fines promptly. I did, however, forget to mention them to Tina. Yep, overlooked that one tiny detail. I had a sinking feeling the fines and increased insurance rates weren’t the only price I was going to pay.

“Ah, baby...” I quietly direct to her as she’s loading this dishwasher. “Yes?” she replies continuing her task. “Where’s the checkbook? I’ll just pay some bills while you’re cleaning up.”

I’m just trying to be helpful.

She directs me to the second drawer in the office desk. I give her my best I-love-you smile (throw in some doe eyes just in case) as I make my way to the desk. Maybe I’ll get away with this after all.

Uh oh, that pesky you-need-to-do-the-right-thing voice is back in my head. Dammit, the “get away with it” must have summoned her. Guilt decides to make an appearance on the scene followed by shame…just tell her the truth now.

Wait a minute, I find myself responding to Miss Morally Superior (goody, a game of point-counterpoint). I took responsibility for my actions by paying the fines. I have since made sure I do not exceed the speed limit. Okay, by no more than five miles/hour and ten if I have to pass some shouldn’t-even-be-allowed-to-drive jerk. Progress, not perfection is my motto. I handled it like the mature responsible adult I am (high fives all around). So there Miss Morally Superior!! Game, set and match …or so I hope.

From afar I here someone beckon (how often do you hear that word?) my name. Maybe I can ignore her. There it is again. No doubt about it, I’m being summoned back to the kitchen. Fuck... time to plaster that innocent school girl look on my face. I keep that in reserve along with the perfect pout (new item, yay me) and cross.

As I enter the kitchen in a nonchalant way (at least I hope so) I can feel a slight tingle in my bottom. Those butterflies decide to make an appearance – you know, the ones that flit around in the stomach pretending to be harmless. Yeah, right…really harbingers of impending doom.

“What bills do you need to pay? I thought I paid them all last Saturday.”

I should probably mention that somehow the insurance bill had been misplaced (folded neatly in my pocket) on its way to the pile-o-bills perched on the desk. It had been a windy day so, strictly as a precautionary measure, I had placed the bill in my pocket. I did not want to loose any vital piece of mail, no siree Bob. See, responsible me on the job. Once again, high fives all around!!

“Sam, what bills didn’t get paid?” Her voice has an edge and her eyes definitely convey resistance-is-futile (I’m a trekkie, so sue me). Fuck…what to do, what to do…

Okay, here’s the plan. Yes, I frequently converse with the committee in my head - doesn’t mean I’m crazy, just busy. And creative. So there !

I’ll quickly hand her the bill and flee to a foreign country…maybe Canada. I speak French and have a parka. By the time I return she will be so happy to see me (and will have paid the bill) that all will be forgiven and I’ll be showered with kisses (hers, not Hershey’s, although that wouldn’t be bad either).

“Sam!” I quickly snap back to reality and hand her the bill. I watch her face go from confusion to anger in five seconds flat. No need for the inquiring-minds-want-to-know mode, she caught on pretty quickly. That tingle and butterflies are becoming much more pronounced. This isn’t good…not good at all.

There it is …those you’re-in-big-trouble wrinkles around her eyes, tightly clenched jaw and pulsating blood vessel in her forehead. Haven’t seen the “pulse” (we’re old friends) in a long time. Yeah…the true price of my driving habits is about to be revealed. I have an inkling what the price is but, then again, maybe she’ll surprise me. After all, keeping a little mystery helps spice up any relationship... just ask Dr. Ruth.

She places her arm around mine and guides (I call it drags) me further into the kitchen. I find myself being deposited on a kitchen chair (when did it get pulled out and turned away from the table?). I can’t help but notice she’s looking down on me from way up on high with hands on hips (hadn’t noticed her growth spurt until this moment).

“SAM, are you listening to me?” I am now. Shit... there will be no mystery tonight. No, tonight will definitely be mystery free.

“Samantha, why have our insurance rates drastically increased?” she asks in a (deceptively) calm voice. Summoning up all my courage, I raise my eyes to meet her gaze. I try to speak but no words are coming out of my mouth – I look like a guppy gasping for air. After nine hours (or one minute, same thing) I look down and admit the prior speeding tickets. I’m praying my nice dinner will pay off… it doesn’t.

“Did you say tickets?” Yeah, she notices the plural thing... English professor. I can only nod my head as speech continues to be allusive– that guppy breathing thing.

“How many?”

She continues to tower (menacingly) over me (I really am working the pitiful angle) and her eyes remain fixed on me, little ole’me. I am guppy breathing, repentant (cue downcast eyes), and obviously trying to make amends (fine dining). I pray it is enough to melt her heart. In the alternative, a nasty case of tennis elbow or bursitis in her shoulder would also be welcome. May the Powers That Be hear my plea!!!

“How many Samantha Marie!” Slowly I raise my left hand in a peace sign (subtle, I know). That’s all the information she needs.

Finding myself sprawled over her lap (who knew she could move so fast!) I notice the dust bunnies under the counter have increased since the last time I had the opportunity to “examine” down under (I multitask whenever I can). Tina wastes no time in communicating her views concerning my driving habits... no time at all.

I hear a loud boom quickly followed by a sharp sting in my posterior. Man, she hits hard!! I am determined to remain stoic and accept my “attitude/behavior adjustment” in a dignified manner. Yep, that is my goal. Tina is just as determined to make sure I will never get a speeding ticket again. Guess who wins.

As she continues to make her point, I begin to let out little yelps and whimpers while my feet start to do the spank dance (you know the one). My right hand adopts the GI Joe Kung Fu grip as it locates the chair leg.

My left arm is firmly planted on the floor and….. there it goes. I tried to stop it using Jedi powers (Star Wars buff also, deal with it). The results of lefty’s little adventure are five smacks to the back of my thighs. Lefty is now in Tina’s death grip… not going anywhere.

She doesn’t say anything verbally right now but rather uses her considerable strength to do her bidding. I miss her voice at times like these.

I am hanging on to my stoicism by a thread. Suddenly the heavens open up, a bright light shines down upon me and I am granted a reprieve. Maybe my candlelit dinner had softened her stance. Yeah...maybe.

As I cling to hope (a girl can dream) I hear the dreaded words, “Sam, lift your hips.” Great, there goes my hope flying out the window.

Lying prone with my pants (and panties, can’t forget that) around my ankles, I feel her resting her hand on my toasty bottom (trust me, its toasty). I welcome this intimacy. Something my mother used to do whenever I found myself across her lap. A way to let me know I would be forgiven soon, I’d be okay. Not pain free, but okay.

“Samantha, why are you getting this spanking?” I always hate this part…makes me feel like a naughty ten year old. Then again, I acted like one. Anyway, she should already know why I am here. After all, this is her idea, NOT mine! I keep these thoughts to myself as I ponder her question. I’m not stupid.

“Because I didn’t tell you about the speeding tickets.”

“Uh huh. Any why else?” Great, 20 questions. I hate this game. “And hid the insurance bill from you.” That should cover all the bases.

Smack, smack, smack. “And…..” I know her patience is getting pretty thin here. What else does she want me to say? I didn’t tell her about tickets and hid the bill – that covers it. Ohhh, wait a minute. “Because I was speeding.”

Bingo. That’s my biggest transgression in her eyes… taking chances with me.

“Yes, you risked your life to save a few minutes, not once but twice.”

With that being said, she reaches over and grabs the wooden spoon. Why the hell aren’t all the kitchen utensils in drawers where they belong? I’ll definitely need to remedy that.

I let out a whimper and continue my Kung Fu grip. By this time I have given up my goal to remain stoic.

And so the assault on my posterior begins again with that wicked spoon.

As tears and snot continue to pool on the floor below me (don’t shake your head, you’ve had the same pools on your floor), I hear someone say, “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. Please, please stop!” I found out later I was the mystery voice.

I try everything to escape the ever increasing fire being ignited in my ass...begging for mercy, wriggling, flailing my legs, squeezing the chair leg until my knuckles are white…anything I can think of. “Young, SMACK, lady, SPANK, you, SWAT, will, WHACK, never, SMACK, ever, SPANK, risk, SWAT, your, WHACK, life, SMACK, again !!! I personally think “ever” was overkill. I’m aware of this all consuming pain and unbelievably intense stinging – it feels like my bottom is covered with fire ants and I cannot escape their relentless feeding frenzy. I have never felt anything like this before and will make sure I never do again.

SMACK. “Did you hear me?” Oh…didn’t realize she wanted a response – focused on the feeding frenzy thing.

I quickly blurt out between the sobs, “yes, it won’t happen again. I am so sorry. It won’t happen again.” I didn’t realize she had stopped making her point until several minutes later. Apparently she was satisfied with my answer.

As my sobs turn into tears, she carries me over to my favorite chair by the window and sits down. Placing me on her lap, she ensures my crimson (no need to look – it’s always crimson) and ever so tender bottom does not make contact with her clothing. As I have said before, she is well practiced in this ritual.

I rest my head against her chest taking in the forgiveness she offers me. I feel her own tears on my face.

“I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you. You are my Pooh bear.” Yes, it is an unexpected nickname as I do not resemble Winnie the Pooh in any way nor do I even like him. Tina said Pooh and I share the same ability to make others feel better about themselves (quit smirking!!). My nickname for her is Yogi...seemed only fair.

I look up and she knows how sorry I am. She gently nods her head and pulls me closer, rocking my tired body as I continue to cry openly. She whispers those words I need to hear. I am forgiven. I am loved. I am a good person.

I gaze at the stars and smile a little. When I was a little girl, I imagined myself living among those stars. They offered me refuge in a frightening world. I don’t have to imagine anymore. I find that same refuge sitting here in her arms.

Later, she will gently nudge me from her lap. We’ll find our way to the bed, shedding any remaining clothes along the way. My mind will quickly register the contrast between the cool cotton sheet and my warm, tender ass. Tina will try not to a smile (unsuccessfully) at my reaction. Funny, isn’t she?!

As she gently kisses my lips, her hands will begin to explore my body. Soon she will caress my breasts, teasing my nipples with her tongue. I know quiet moans will escape my throat as jolts of pleasure begin to course through my body.

Tina will resume her exploration of my body using fingers, lips and tongue. At times I will feel the cool air against my damp skin as she moves from place to place, a reminder of her love for me. Continuing her journey, one finger will find its way inside me, her tongue playfully toying with that most sensitive of areas.

Finally, I’ll feel two, then three fingers inside me. We’ll both find that rhythm which fills my entire being. Her tongue and mouth will tease, caress and suckle my sacred place…the one place only she is allowed to visit. My body will explode with desire as I cry out her name. She’ll continue to bring me to the brink and pull me back, over and over again...

Then it will happen, that moment of surrender. As I’m engulfed in ecstasy, wave after wave of pleasure will travel through my body igniting every nerve ending. She knows my body well.

We’ll repeat this dance again. This time she will surrender to my touch. I know her body well too.

I’ll nestle close to my beloved (not the remote), feeling safe in her arms. As we drift off to sleep, I know contentment will rest in both our hearts.

Life is good. Life is very good.

This is an original work of fiction by me. Jedi, Star Wars, Hershey’s, Dunkin’ Doughnuts, Winnie the Pooh and Yogi are all copyrighted (not sure about Jedi but didn’t want to take any chances) and in no way belong to me. No infringement is intended. They are NOT mine. Please don't sue me.


Lil Bit said...

Beautifully written, my dear!

LOL @ getting rid of the clapper cuz it turned into a occasional strobe light! HILARIOUS touch, hon!

Ohhhh, really enjoyed this piece!

dangergirl said...

Thanks lb - the clapper was one of those "inspired" moments.

Glad I could bring you a moment of levity !!