by Carl Hamlin
A roar of applause followed as Jessica stepped down and was immediately handed a glass of lemonade and surrounded by old friends and others wishing to meet the Wilder-born celebrity for the first time. Some approached with copies of her book, and she responded with smiles and her signature. Two hours had passed before she had been able to move twenty feet from the stage.
Suddenly, a waving movement caught her attention. There was Mark excusing himself from a conversation with two other men Jessica recalled as being a few years behind them in school.
Attempting to move close to Mark without making any swift movements that would draw attention, she ended up greeting him by sticking out her hand. The game continued as they pretended to be seeing each other for the first time in decades.
They forced themselves to make small talk, loud enough to be overheard. They would interrupt themselves to speak to those wandering by, and would purposely bring others into the conversation, making comments about how they were catching up on old times.
As the evening wore on, they became less of a focus of interest, and began to speak more openly. Mark set the tone for apologizing on behalf of whoever had shouted out the awkward statement during her talk.
Jessica waved away the concern. “I’m used to thinking fast on my feet. One time I was doing a live report from the sidewalk in front of Wrigley Field when a flasher appeared next to me. I just moved to my right, until I knew I was forcing him out of camera range.”
Mark put his hands in his pockets and shook his head. “Jess, all of us in Wilder are proud of you. You’ve come a long way from the days working in that box factory.”
Jessica smiled. “And the days of sharing an Orange Crush during our break times.”
Mark seemed to be staring into space. “Those were fun times, Jess. I treasure the early years here as much as you do. But for you, the contrast must be huge. I mean, I still went on to work in a small city. Big compared to Wilder, but still what most would consider a small town.”
Jessica began feeling a familiar tension. “You’ve never ended up living in a bigger city?”
“Yah, for a couple of years I was stationed in San Diego. I didn’t mind it at all. I liked the entertainment, all of the things to do in general. It was great for a while. Not the type of place I wanted to settle down in, but it was interesting.’
“When I was discharged, I decided to try police work. I had started studying up on it for the last two years of my enlistment, and it was just something to try. I ended up staying, because I really liked it.”
“But did you ever wonder what it would be like in a big-city force?”
Mark shrugged. “Sure. But I liked my job, and I liked the rest of the people on the force. I had no ambitions to go big-time. I know you like Chicago, but it would never be for me.
Jessica tossed up her hands. “But I don’t want to be limited. I love Wilder and the people here. But the opportunities are so few.”
Mark shrugged. “It all depends on how you define opportunities. If you want the opportunity to live a good life free from crime and big problems, this is the place to be.”
Jessica shook her head. “I like culture. I feel like I need to be around the higher caliber people.”
Mark turned slowly toward her. “Higher caliber?”
Jessica shrugged. “I mean the smartest people, the sophisticated ones who know how to make things happen.”
Mark began to fume. “You think your parents didn’t know how to make things happen? To start out with nothing, work all day, even Sundays? Do you come back here just to make yourself feel like you’re still one of the folks? Is that it? Some image you portray, when you really just tolerate us quaint hicks?”
“Mark, you can’t deny there is a difference. My circle of friends in Chicago sees the big picture. They understand the complexity of the world. I’ve always loved the people here. But I need to be around people who like the theater, and the symphony and the opera. I love being here. It’s just.…”
Mark lowered his voice, but it was clear he was agitated. “It’s just that it’s not quite good enough for you. None of us are good enough for the queen of big city television news.”
Jessica tossed her glass of lemonade into his face, and the people gathered nearby fell into a hush as they watched Jessica storm from the scene, then began laughing on the assumption they were witness to a simple lovers’ spat.
Chapter Five
Jessica sat in silence on the side of her bed. She was past tired, primarily from emotional exhaustion. The rage she had thought had drifted away was still there. Mark Walters was still as unreasonable as ever. From her point of view, he had taken a simple, candid statement, and tried to twist it into an insult.
As she recalled their antics on the sofa, she cringed with discomfort. She would initiate no more contact with him during the little time she had left in the visit. But she would not be chased away early. She would stay until she was good and ready to leave.
She crawled under the bedding and tried to clear her mind of all thoughts of Mark Walters. However, sleep did not come for hours. She replayed the scene at the festival over and over. Not only that, her mind kept reprocessing the crack of his hand on her bottom and the soothing pleasure he gave to her a day later.
Against all ingrained habits, Jessica slept until noon. She had not nodded off until the middle of the night, and her body and mind rebelled against getting out of bed.
She was known as a person able to keep her cool. She had rather diminished that with the toss of the lemonade. She could only imagine the comments and gossip that must have followed. Now that would be the talk of the small town.
She considered making some calls to apologize. Mulling it over, she decided she had enough good will in the bank to ride this one out. She would just laugh it off to her Wilder friends, and make some self-deprecating wisecracks to show the obligatory contrition. It would be a good day to read another book and devour cold cuts and chips. After such an experience, the remaining beers would be welcome.
Jessica did read the entire day and into the evening. She had not even bothered to get dressed, but instead lounged all day while still in her nightshirt. Desirous of washing away the last twenty-four hours, she got undressed and headed for the shower.
She enjoyed a lengthy session under the soothing streams, and enjoyed the herbal scented shampoo that tended to make her feel relaxed. When the hot water began to run out, she got out of the shower and slipped on nothing but her short, silky wrap.
She took her time with the blow dryer, then picked up her oak hairbrush and walked downstairs. She did not turn on any lights, and she brushed her hair slowly, another exercise in relaxation. She continued for some time, gazing out the window and standing in the dim light.
She was lost in her thoughts as she watched Mark load a package into his JEEP, and did not notice the black creature now circling overhead between her and the ceiling. She tossed her head back to brush the hair in front, and that was when she saw the bat.
Mark was startled less by the scream of “Bat!” than by the sight of a barely-covered Jessica screaming on her front porch. He called across the road for her to wait, then went to his hangar to retrieve a fishing net he used for the control of bats in that structure.
He trotted across the road in spite of his injured foot to where Jessica stood on the porch, struggling to hold the robe shut. She pointed to the house with the hairbrush, thrusting it in the air repeatedly, screaming hysterically for him to remove the animal.
He walked over to her, and she responded by crouching to pull the sheer robe to her body. He was amused and impatient at the same time, and could not help but feel that justice was being served for the lemonade drenching he had endured in public.
“Jess, this thing is harmless. I want you to just stay calm and hold the door open. It won’t hurt you at all. It may just fly out to avoid the net.”
Jessica screamed in response. “No, I’m not going near that door as long
as that rabid little bastard is in there. Just take care of that bat and then you get the hell away from me.”
Mark blew out a sigh of frustration, then walked to the door and went in. It took less than two minutes for him to walk out with the bat flopping around in the net. He walked over to a large tree, gave the net a practiced flip, and watched as the bat soared up into the branches.
He turned to Jessica, who was now a few feet behind him, scampering in a crouch back to the house. Expecting an obligatory comment of gratitude, he was instead greeted by the sight of her pointing the hairbrush toward his home and ordering, “Now go.”
Instead of complying, he stormed toward her, and she sprinted to the front door, the silky gown now flapping in the air. However, in spite of his bad foot, he got to the door first, and held it closed as Jessica strained in vain to pull it open.
“I have had it with you, Miss Marin. Let’s take another trip to your sofa.”
He placed his arm around Jessica’s waist, opened the door and shoved her inside while taking hold of her arm. Next, he reached for her other arm and took the hairbrush from her.
Realizing her fate, Jessica began to squeal. “You’re not going to spank me like you did the other day.”
Mark sat down in the center of the sofa and began to pull Jessica to him. “ You’re right. I’m not going to spank you like I did the other day. This time I’m going to do it right. All the right circumstances have fallen into place.”
Jessica found herself once again across Mark’s knees, but the slight robe was now pushed up on her back and her bare bottom was at his mercy. Then she remembered the hairbrush and she began to panic.
“Mark, no. You give me that brush right now.”
Mark pinned her struggling right hand against the small of her back. “Okay. I’m going to return it to you right now.”
The brush was indeed returned to her with a sharp “CRACK”, bringing about an ear-piercing yelp. Jessica begged him to let her go, but every few seconds, Mark repeated the process, paying no heed to the squeals and protests. This time, after several smacks, Jessica could not contain her tears. The sting from the brush was simply too intense for her to remain stoic.
It was when the tears were flowing freely, and her breathing was hampered by sobs, she suddenly ceased struggling. As the remaining smacks fell, she accepted that she had been ungrateful to Mark and too “snooty” toward her roots, as her mother would have said. She clenched her teeth and absorbed the stinging barrage until Mark decided she had had enough, and that took some time.
Once that point was finally reached, Mark stood and unceremoniously dumped Jessica to the floor. Without a word, he dropped the hairbrush and marched out of the house.
Jessica lay on the floor on her stomach as the sobbing continued. She was angry with Mark, angry with herself and frustrated with her life as it was careening out of control. She started to get up, then picked up the brush and marched upstairs, crying all the way.
Once again she was in front of the mirror, but this time she was viewing a bottom that was not pink, but quite dark red. Serves you right. Still holding the brush, she reached back and gave herself another stinging smack for good measure.
She flopped onto the bed and continued to cry, soaking the cover on the pillow in which she had buried her face. The hairbrush had been so much more painful than Mark’s hand, and the stinging afterward was many times worse.
The first spanking had been almost affectionate, and in retrospect, quite erotic. This one had been pure pain. However, she had sought his help, and when he came to her aid, she could not rid herself of his presence quickly enough. She had never held herself in such low regard. She was seeing a side of herself she did not like.
It took her an hour to fall asleep, on her stomach of course. The emotional upheaval was at its highest level since her arrival in Wilder. Trying to ignore the hot stinging patch that was her derriere was impossible. But in spite of the good sleep the night before, the emotional exhaustion was overwhelming.
It was Sunday morning, but Jessica did not venture out. She had to stand while eating breakfast, and all the while she munched on her toast, she stared across the road and rubbed her bottom with her free hand. She no longer had fire in her eyes. It was all still in her backside.
After breakfast, she cast aside the wrap and stepped into the shower. This time she finished by allowing very cool water to cascade over the sore bottom, and the residual tenderness was very much relieved, although the chastised area was still a bright pink.
She decided that even though this was going to be her last day in Wilder, it would be another day of reading, if she would be able to concentrate. She had experienced enough foibles in the company of other Wilder residents. She rationalized that staying in and reading was not a concession to her anxieties regarding Mark. This was her primary opportunity to relax each year. She liked to read, and read she would. She read while on her stomach in her panties and a t-shirt. However, she read until it was time to go to bed, and she finished off the stockpile of food, leaving just enough for the following morning’s breakfast.
She had a long drive ahead of her in the morning, and it was frustrating that she could not sleep. It was jarring to acknowledge that she was not as universally considerate and sensitive as she would have describer herself prior to this visit home. It was hard to sleep on the revelation that one’s ego and self-concept have been inflated without self-awareness.
She could not turn off her thoughts, but that was alright. She needed to reconsider many things.
Jessica yawned as she closed the trunk of the large car and gazed across the road. This trip back to Chicago may require an overnight stay in a motel if she were too sleepy to handle the multi-lane freeways that led to her downtown dwelling.
Her eyes kept returning to Mark’s home, but she was not certain if she did or did not want to see him outside. If she did see him outside, she did not know what would happen, and she did not even know what she would want to happen.
She placed her hand on the car door and waited. She waited, but was not even aware at first that she was stalling.
She finally opened the door, hesitated, and then opened it the rest of the way. Suddenly she saw the figure of Mark walking toward her. She took a deep breath, shut the door, and rested against the fender.
Her impulse was to jump in and drive away, never to return. She had embarrassed herself, and the worst fear she harbored was that the people of Wilder would ever know of just how condescending she had become. She did not wish to be that way, but it was nonetheless so. Only Mark had heard her comments, so much depended upon his discretion. Now she awaited one last volley of scolding.
Mark approached and stopped a few feet away. She saw that once again he was holding something behind his back. She felt tears welling in her eyes and she could barely speak. “Mark, I’m….”
Mark approached, set a small gift bag on the ground, then placed his hands on his hips and smiled. “I couldn’t help but notice such a pretty woman in the neighborhood. Do you come here often?”
Stunned that Mark was not angry, Jessica strained to gather her thoughts to play along. “I come here every summer. I work in Chicago.”
Mark took another step and put his hand out. “Mark Walters.”
Jessica fought tears as she reached for his hand. “Jessica Marin.”
Mark nodded in an exaggerated fashion. “Oh yeah. You’re the anchor with those great legs on that news program. Well, I’m getting a second plane this week. It’s just for travel. I’ll be able to fly to Chicago from time to time. Maybe we could go out for dinner some time? Like maybe next weekend?”
Tears began to flow down Jessica’s cheeks. “That would be nice. I would like that.”
Mark leaned toward her and kissed her. “No pressure, Jess. Just the prospect of a new start, okay?” Jessica hugged him. “Yes. Another chance.”
Mark half-turned. “Oh, by the way, Miss Marin, I have something just for you. I made
it myself.” He handed her the bag, and she pulled the tissue paper away and pulled out a foot- long plywood paddle.
She laughed and leaned forward and kissed him. “Thank you. It’s very... it’s... it’s a paddle.”
She started toward the car, and then spun around with a mischievous grin. She took a step back toward Mark, purred, and handed him the paddle. “One more for the road”. She bent over and Mark delivered a sharp smack to the seat of her jeans.
She let out a loud, “Oww”, then stood up, rubbed her backside and opened the car door. She tossed the paddle onto the back seat and sat down gingerly. “Looking forward to your call Mr. Walters. Nice meeting you.”
Mark closed the door for her, and watched as she drove away, his own vision now blurry from emotion. Jessica drove through the town, catching all of the town’s three traffic lights on green, waving at the occasional acquaintance, and trying to conceal the tears.
As she passed the cemetery her tears flowed more freely, and she smiled as she passed the box factory. The small town gave way to the vast fields, and the white houses and barns that loomed across the Indiana landscape.
The End
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This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
