Friday, February 04, 2005
You hustle me back into the main corridor of the mall, and turn left, toward the theater. It is early in the day, no movies are playing yet, but there will be several starting within the hour, so people will be gathering soon.
You turn another corner, stopping beside a large planter just a few feet beyond the intersection. It is one of those planters that were so common a decade or so ago, filled with tropical plants, and surrounded by wide cement walls. The walls are just about high enough to make a comfortable seat for you, so you put the Coke down and take my cup of ice, placing it beside the Coke. You turn to sit down, and I move to join you, but you keep me standing by your side while you take your seat.
You look up at me and smile, patting your lap with one hand as you say, "It's time." I just stand there, looking at you, and you gently wrap your arm around my upper thighs, moving me closer to your legs and repeat, "It is time."
I'm beginning to think I understand what you intend to do, and start to move back, only to be stopped by your arm, tightening around me, keeping me close. You reach up with your other hand, taking mine and slowly drawing my torso across you, positioning me where you want me. One swift movement from you, and I find myself face down across your lap, arms and legs dangling above the floor.
I, of course, am squirming like crazy, trying to slide off your legs. You increase the pressure of your arm on my lower back, pressing me into your lap, and remind me, "The longer you wiggle, the longer we're going to be here..."
And damn, I know you're telling the truth, so, much as I hate it, I try to relax. WHAP! I can't help squeeling, just a bit, trying to stay quiet. Trying to attract as little attention as possible.
WHAP! Again, and again. I close my eyes, trying to shut out the pain, the embarrassment.
A pause, and I hear something. I cautiously open my eyes, and see a pair of shoes. Plain, black shoes. The sort of shoes security guards wear. Oh, no.
"Are you okay, Ma'am?"
I manage to say yes, when your hand comes down again. Ow!
"You're sure?"
"Yes, thank you. I'm sure." Yeah, I may have said it, but I didn't mean it. How could I be okay? Over your knee in the middle of all those people, being spanked. Was he insane? Was I insane for telling him it was all right?
"Very well, but sir, it would be best if you pull her skirt back down. There are a lot of children around."
My heart sinks. How could you? I give up and just close my eyes again as I hear the man walking away. Like a camel, perhaps I believe that if I don't see them, they won't see me.
WHOP!!!
Really hard. God that hurts. What am I going to do if you keep this up? I don't know how long I can go before I start crying out, and...
You remove your arm from my back and slide it under me, lifting me off your lap. You spin me around and sit me down, hard. Ow!
I keep my eyes closed for a minute, praying that everyone else has disappeared, and that when I open them we'll be alone. I feel something cool next to my hand, and open one eye. The ice. You have the cup of ice in your hand, and you give it to me, saying "You might want to hold this against your face, because it has gotten terribly red."
I take the ice and thank you, holding it up against my burning face. God, I've never been this embarrassed. You keep your arm around me, and we sit for a few minutes while I keep the ice on my cheek. I repeat the same phrase to myself over and over, "Thank God it's finished."
Finally, I relax into the circle of your arm and rest my head against your shoulder. I open my eyes to see that while the people haven't all disappeared, there is no crowd gathered, and nobody seems to be looking at us too closely.
I look up at you and tell you that I will publish the story as soon as we get home. You hand me the Coke, and as I lower my head to take a sip you hold me close and rest your cheek on my hair while you whisper, "And that was just the preview."
You turn another corner, stopping beside a large planter just a few feet beyond the intersection. It is one of those planters that were so common a decade or so ago, filled with tropical plants, and surrounded by wide cement walls. The walls are just about high enough to make a comfortable seat for you, so you put the Coke down and take my cup of ice, placing it beside the Coke. You turn to sit down, and I move to join you, but you keep me standing by your side while you take your seat.
You look up at me and smile, patting your lap with one hand as you say, "It's time." I just stand there, looking at you, and you gently wrap your arm around my upper thighs, moving me closer to your legs and repeat, "It is time."
I'm beginning to think I understand what you intend to do, and start to move back, only to be stopped by your arm, tightening around me, keeping me close. You reach up with your other hand, taking mine and slowly drawing my torso across you, positioning me where you want me. One swift movement from you, and I find myself face down across your lap, arms and legs dangling above the floor.
I, of course, am squirming like crazy, trying to slide off your legs. You increase the pressure of your arm on my lower back, pressing me into your lap, and remind me, "The longer you wiggle, the longer we're going to be here..."
And damn, I know you're telling the truth, so, much as I hate it, I try to relax. WHAP! I can't help squeeling, just a bit, trying to stay quiet. Trying to attract as little attention as possible.
WHAP! Again, and again. I close my eyes, trying to shut out the pain, the embarrassment.
A pause, and I hear something. I cautiously open my eyes, and see a pair of shoes. Plain, black shoes. The sort of shoes security guards wear. Oh, no.
"Are you okay, Ma'am?"
I manage to say yes, when your hand comes down again. Ow!
"You're sure?"
"Yes, thank you. I'm sure." Yeah, I may have said it, but I didn't mean it. How could I be okay? Over your knee in the middle of all those people, being spanked. Was he insane? Was I insane for telling him it was all right?
"Very well, but sir, it would be best if you pull her skirt back down. There are a lot of children around."
My heart sinks. How could you? I give up and just close my eyes again as I hear the man walking away. Like a camel, perhaps I believe that if I don't see them, they won't see me.
WHOP!!!
Really hard. God that hurts. What am I going to do if you keep this up? I don't know how long I can go before I start crying out, and...
You remove your arm from my back and slide it under me, lifting me off your lap. You spin me around and sit me down, hard. Ow!
I keep my eyes closed for a minute, praying that everyone else has disappeared, and that when I open them we'll be alone. I feel something cool next to my hand, and open one eye. The ice. You have the cup of ice in your hand, and you give it to me, saying "You might want to hold this against your face, because it has gotten terribly red."
I take the ice and thank you, holding it up against my burning face. God, I've never been this embarrassed. You keep your arm around me, and we sit for a few minutes while I keep the ice on my cheek. I repeat the same phrase to myself over and over, "Thank God it's finished."
Finally, I relax into the circle of your arm and rest my head against your shoulder. I open my eyes to see that while the people haven't all disappeared, there is no crowd gathered, and nobody seems to be looking at us too closely.
I look up at you and tell you that I will publish the story as soon as we get home. You hand me the Coke, and as I lower my head to take a sip you hold me close and rest your cheek on my hair while you whisper, "And that was just the preview."
