by Karen Nappa
At Jim's direction, Paula produced several dust cloths, a couple of markers, a box of garbage bags, and two empty boxes. "Do you have any file folders so we can have something to organize the papers?"
Paula looked sheepish. "I never thought of that, Sir. I just put them in different piles."
Jim chuckled. "No wonder your desk at the precinct looks like it does. You really do have trouble with this. We'll start a list. In the meantime, let's see what we have." He moved to the first convenient box and opened it. Inside, was a mishmash of items, some carefully wrapped in newsprint and others thrown loosely in. He raised an eyebrow. "Yours, I presume?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Time for the boxes and garbage bag. I have a simple system. First, are you a garage sale person or a donate to charity person?"
"Donate, all the way. Garage sales seem like a pain in the ass."
"Okay. This box is 'Keep,' this box is 'Donate,' and the garbage bag should be obvious. Each item comes out of the box and you decide where it goes. When the 'Keep' box is full, we take it and put everything away. 'Donate' boxes get put in a designated area and, again, garbage is obvious."
"What about recycling? The newsprint doesn't belong in the trash."
"Good catch. Another garbage bag will do for now."
Miscellaneous didn't begin to cover the variety of items in the first box. Paula vaguely recognized some of it as things she had struggled to organize when she had packed things up in St. Louis. Paula began with plastic clothes hangers scattered randomly through the box. Those were useful and she was low on them. Keep. Next was a pair of geode bookends. She hesitated over them. "What's the problem, Melda?"
"I'm trying to remember who gave these to me."
"Do you need bookends?"
"Maybe?"
"You can't remember where you got them or who gave them to you. You don't know if you need them. You've survived without them for how long now?"
"Okay." She gathered her resolve. "Donate."
"Good girl."
They continued through the box, which also contained a collection of coffee mugs with various slogans on them wrapped in t-shirts with other slogans, most of which she put in the 'Donate' box. The most incongruous item they found at the bottom. It was a small wooden carved cat. "I don't even like cats," Paula said. "Where could that have come from?" She started to put it in the 'Donate' box, but Jim stopped her.
"That's quality work. Let's put it with your grandmother's stuff for now. It might be worth something. Some of her things may be valuable, too. She wasn't the only collector around." He paused to look around. They'd taken half an hour to empty one box. He was pleased that there was more in the 'Donate' box than the 'Keep' box. "I think we can stop for today. You've made it through one box and now you know how it's done. I expect you to continue at a rate of one box every other day until your own things are done. Then I'll help you evaluate your grandmother's things. Let's put the stuff you're keeping away; you can grab a shower and we'll go get that lunch."
"That sounds good, Sir."
Jim crossed his cutlery on his plate and dabbed his mouth with a paper napkin. Paula was astonished at how long he took to eat. Jim seemed to savor every bite he took. He had chosen their food with care after asking about her likes and dislikes. She'd frowned at his ordering for her but had refrained from commenting, trying to accept it as part of their new dynamic.
"So, Melda, let's discuss your decision to hide the state of your house from me."
Oh, let's not!
"Honesty and openness are important for every relationship, but even more so in one like ours."
Paula stared down at her plate. See, she was bad at this.
"Luckily for you, our kind of relationship has a very straightforward way of dealing with problems." She looked up at him in surprise. What on earth did he mean by that? "Let's go back to my place." He stood up and held out his hand. Paula looked from his hand to his face, with no idea of his mood. "Melda?" She was reluctant to continue, but she let him lead her to the car.
On the drive back, Jim said, "The way it works is that when you do something wrong, I punish you and we wipe the slate clean. No grudges, no recriminations. All is forgiven. Melda, please remember that's what this is. You can use your safeword to either slow down or stop, but use it wisely. Calling 'red' doesn't take away my right to correct you for your behavior. Do you understand?"
Paula chewed on her bottom lip. "Am I allowed to ask questions, Sir?" Her voice sounded small, like a child's.
"Yes, you may."
"What do you mean by 'correct' me if I have to use my safeword?" She was puzzled.
Jim looked over at her. "Then I'll find a different way to punish you. I think it's unlikely with what I have in mind at the moment, though."
"Are you mad at me, Sir?"
Jim shook his head. "No, Melda. I would never punish you while I was angry. That's not fair to either of us and would make me into a bully. I understand why you tried to hide your house from me," he held up a finger, "but know that, as your Master, I'm responsible for your well-being and I can't do my job if you keep important facts about your life from me."
Paula blinked at that. She was an adult and she could take care of her own life! She remembered the cluttered mess in the other rooms and cringed. Maybe she did need to be punished.
"But it's embarrassing!"
"Melda, look at me." She peaked up at his sincere face. "There is absolutely nothing between us that's embarrassing! I love every aspect of you, the good, the bad, and the ugly! I want you to understand this punishment is more for your benefit than mine."
"How is that, Sir?"
"You were worried about my reaction to the state your house is in, right?" She nodded. "You're afraid it affects my opinion of you."
"So, you're not mad about the house but because I kept it from you?" Did she understand him right?
"That's right," Jim said.
She thought about it for the rest of the trip to his condo. As they pulled into the drive, she said, "I think I understand. I'm willing to accept my punishment."
Once inside, Jim led her straight to the bedroom and gestured for her to go first. "Strip and kneel beside the bed," he ordered.
He strode over to the bed and pulled away the covers as Paula hurried to do his bidding. What would he do? Would he spank her? Would it hurt? Did she want to get punished?
Not really. Well, maybe. Would it repair their relationship? With her ex-husband, misunderstandings and grievances had accumulated until they couldn't bear to be in the same room. There had been so much hurt and anger between them, it was almost palpable. She didn't want that with Jim.
"S-Sir?" She hated how small her voice sounded.
"Yes, Melda?"
"Is everything really okay between us, after you punish me?"
His shadow fell over her. "Yes, girl, clean slate."
She sighed in relief and straightened her spine in resolve. "Okay, Sir. I'm sorry I kept this a secret. Punish me as you see fit."
"Wonderful. I'm proud of you, Melda." He smiled broadly. "Go and lie down on your back in the middle of the bed."
Paula rose and climbed on the bed. She scooted over to the middle quickly, wanting to keep his approval.
"Spread your legs."
With trepidation, she obeyed his order.
"Because you weren't open with me, your punishment is going to be to open up a different part of your life," Jim said, and she could hear him move the chair. The telltale cracking alerted her he'd sat down. "You're going to masturbate, and I'm going to watch."
What? Paula shot upright and was met by a stern blue gaze.
"Don't tell me you don't masturbate."
"Of course, I do, but it's a solo activity."
He didn't answer but smiled and leaned back as if he were settling in for a show. The evil rat bastard!
She plopped back and groaned. Well, it was supposed to be punishment, and at least she was going to get off.
&
nbsp; Paula placed her hand between her legs and stroked her clit.
The chair creaked again. Was he leaning forward? The notion of being watched was more hot than embarrassing. She upped her efforts, and soon, her legs started to tense and her belly quivered.
"Stop."
The order made her freeze and her arousal cooled down like she'd dived into a cold lake.
Her eyes had drifted closed, but now she opened them to look at Jim.
"You're not allowed to come, Melda. Continue!"
"What! What's the p—" A stern look stopped her question, and she started the process of arousing herself again.
Three times, Jim made her start and stop like that before he rose from the chair and grabbed her hand.
"Both your problems and your pleasure belong to me, Melda. Don't forget it again." He brought her hand to his mouth and licked her fingers clean—rubbing his tongue over the sensitive skin between her fingers and maintaining eye contact with her, as if she wasn't horny enough already!
"Get dressed, Melda."
At work on Monday, Paula had finished taking the statement of the latest victim in a string of convenience store robberies and needed to make a decision on how to go on with the case. She allowed her mind to drift back to last weekend. She couldn't quite make sense of Jim's reaction to her home. He hadn't punished her for her house, hadn't been upset or disgusted as she had feared, but he'd made it clear he wanted to be in her life. She was wondering how she felt about that when her phone rang. "Stone."
"Brian Landis here. I'm calling about the hearing for the Joshua Miller case. It's on the schedule for two weeks from tomorrow. Judge Spenser's presiding. I doubt we'll need you to testify, but I want you there, just in case."
"Sure. I'll be there. I thought you had worked out a plea deal?"
"We have, but in juvenile court, the judge can ask for testimony on the case before he accepts or modifies the agreement. Judge Spenser is notorious for wanting the whole story."
"Okay, I'll be there."
She paused to think about all Josh had been through—the abuse from his mother and her boyfriends, the hit-and-run accident for which he was now facing the consequences, and his suicide attempt. He was lucky he had James and Laura to take care of him now. He had won the lottery when the two of them decided they wanted to be his foster parents. Paula hadn't seen a lot of him, herself, but the day of the confession, she could see that his regret was genuine and not just because he had gotten caught. She hoped the judge would see things the same way.
The robbery cases were more frustrating than ever. She was sure the incidents were connected, but the descriptions from the victims were all over the place, and the security cameras from two of the stores showed different perps at each location. She was afraid they were looking at gang activity. She needed to take her suspicions to Captain Morris. Maybe the gang unit would take the mess off her hands.
The morning of the court hearing dawned sunny and bright. James hoped the sunshine was a good omen for the day. Henry and the district attorney had worked out an agreement that James thought was fair. Now, they had to hope the judge would approve it. Neither he nor Laura wanted Josh in juvenile detention. Josh was becoming his and Laura's son more and more every day. He knew it would break Laura's heart to lose him.
James smelled bacon and biscuits when he came out of the bathroom to get dressed. He was pleased Laura was making Josh's favorites for breakfast. He got to the kitchen to find Josh had set the table and Laura was scrambling eggs. Now Josh was putting the hot, homemade biscuits in a basket for the table.
"Almost ready, dear. Would you pour the orange juice and coffee?"
"Sure, honey."
While James poured the drinks, Laura put the bacon on the table and started serving the eggs. Josh brought butter and raspberry jam for the biscuits. The three of them were like a well-oiled machine when it came to kitchen tasks. They sat down to their breakfast feast and said a simple table grace together. Laura added a prayer at the end asking for a good outcome for Josh that day. Following breakfast, James got out his old Monopoly game to occupy the three of them while they waited for the afternoon hearing.
The three of them arrived at the courthouse promptly at 1:00 pm to find Henry waiting for them in the lobby. Also present were Paula Stone, Dr. Steven Kiley, who had treated Josh following his suicide attempt, and Marc Ellis, the counselor Josh had been seeing twice a week for the past two months. James had given Henry copies of all Josh's school reports.
Henry said, "We're stuck out here until the case is called. Make yourselves comfortable. Landis is in for a motion on another case. We shouldn't have to wait long."
Josh asked, "Marc told me he was coming, but why are Det. Stone and Dr. Kiley here?"
Henry answered him. "They're here in case the judge has questions about the case. Nothing to be concerned about. Everyone here, including Mr. Landis, is on your side and wants what's best for you."
A man in uniform came into the hallway and said, "People v. Joshua Miller?"
Henry said "yes" and they all moved toward the door, only to be stopped by the bailiff. "Counsel, guardian ad litem, and defendant only. We'll call you if we need the rest of you."
All color had left Josh's face. "But I need Mr. James and Ms. Laura. They're all I've got for family." He turned to Henry. "You said they could be with me."
"I said, 'probably,' Josh. Some judges are sticklers about closed proceedings for juveniles. I'll be with you, and James and Laura will be right outside."
James could barely contain his anger but knew he had to hold it together for Josh. He put his hand on the boy's shoulder and said, "It'll be okay, son. Don't worry."
Laura gave him a hug, and he hugged her back. She had tears in her eyes as she wished him well. "We're here. Always know that."
The bailiff interrupted before anyone could say more, "It's not a good idea to keep Judge Spenser waiting."
Henry and Josh went inside, and James pulled Laura into a bear hug before sitting down with her to wait out the hearing. Paula, Dr. Kiley, and Marc Ellis took seats across from them and they all lapsed into silence.
Two hours later, they were still waiting. James and Laura weren't saying much, but Paula was making polite small talk with the others when the door opened and Josh came running out and almost jumped on them as they struggled to stand. "It's all going to be okay! They're not sending me to jail!" Paula noticed his eyes were red and his tie askew but knew this was not the time or place to ask about it.
Henry and Brian Landis followed Josh out. "What's the verdict?" she asked.
"Guilty of second-degree manslaughter. Josh will be on probation until he graduates from high school. At that time, he can petition the court to seal his record. He has to do two thousand hours of community service between now and then, mostly in the summer. He stays in your custody and he has to continue therapy until Marc releases him. Congratulations! It's what we had hoped for."
Laura let out a cry of joy. "That's wonderful! I wonder where he can do his service? Are there rules about that, Henry?"
"There are some general guidelines, but basically, you find a non-profit that can use help and get approval for him to work there. His probation officer will have to sign off on it or may have an idea of his or her own."
"Do you think the church would let him work there?" James asked Laura.
"Probably. The food pantry always needs volunteers. We can ask Pastor Jonathan on Sunday. In the meantime, let's all go out for dinner. Our treat. Can you all come? How about Artègo Pizza? I'll call ahead so we have a table."
"Thanks for the invitation. I haven't eaten there in years, but I remember how good their food is," Dr. Kiley said.
"What about you, Paula, Marc, Henry?" James asked.
"I'm sorry, but I have paperwork I still have to finish and then an appointment after work," Paula said.
"This is my evening to see clients. I'll have to beg off. I'll see you on Monday, Josh?" Marc Ellis said.
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br /> "Yes, sir. Thanks for all your help."
"You're welcome."
"Mr. Landis? We'd like you to come, too," Laura asked.
"I'm sorry, but I'm supposed to be in three different places in what's left of today. Good luck, young man. I hope we never meet in a professional capacity again."
"Thank you, sir. I know you really helped convince the judge."
"No, Josh. You convinced the judge," Henry said. "And I'll be happy to join you. I'll meet you there. I have to check in at my office."
After congratulating Josh and sharing hugs with James and Laura, Paula waved goodbye to the others. She was humming the Black-Eyed Peas song I Gotta Feeling on her way back to the police station. Josh was going to be all right, and she had the weekend with Jim to look forward to. By the time she reached the second chorus, she was belting the lyrics,
Cause I gotta feeling, woohoo,
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good, good night!
Jim opened the door for her wearing only his faded low riding jeans. Paula paused as she took in the sight—lean, muscular body, with a light dusting of hair on his chest and a line of a slightly darker hair running down into his pants. She couldn't pull her gaze away from where that trail led.
Jim chuckled. "I don't know if I should be offended you're forgetting not one but two rules, or if I should be flattered by the way you look at me."
Paula swallowed the saliva that had pooled in her mouth. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of drooling—hold on—rules?
She looked up at him and met his sparkling blue eyes. Oh, the rules. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist and held her head up for his kiss. As Jim claimed her lips, he pulled her closer with one muscular arm and used the other hand to close the front door. Before he let go of her, he nipped her bottom lip and whispered, "Hello, Melda. How about rule number one?"
She blinked. How could he go from a lust filled kiss to discussing rules in a split second? Infuriating man! Gorgeous, almost naked man! With him wearing only jeans, she definitely had more clothes on.
