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Alex_b
New member
Username: Alex_b
Post Number: 22
Registered: 04-2005
| | Posted on Friday, August 12, 2005 - 12:06 am: | 
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MARGIE’S TALE
by Alex B.
Margie Bach found a crystal cut vase filled with
roses on her desk when she finally got to work
on Friday morning. She’d arrived nearly an hour
late for the third time that week and fully
expected that Ralph Akins, her supervisor,
would be waiting there to publicly scold her.
But she was in luck. It happened that Mr. Akins
himself would not be in until later due to a
board meeting. So instead of the stern lecture
she deserved, she was greeted with roses.
Ms. Bach was a sales representative for
Tan-Well, the largest manufacturer and
distributor of tanning booths in the Southwest.
Margie wasn’t the sharpest employee at
Tan-Well. In fact, she was so unassuming that
most people found her fairly naive. But she had
a winning smile and gift for dealing with
people that always put clients at ease.
She also made a perfect representative for the
company because of her beautiful skin.
It was smooth, flawless and tanned perfectly.
Her tawny complexion, baby-blue eyes and silky
auburn hair made for a captivating combination.
Far less obvious was the fact that Margie’s
natural skin tone was actually quite light so
that her tan lines created a striking display
of contrast. Any man lucky enough to view this
bronze beauty undressed was surprised to
discover her round cream-colored breasts and
supple, snowy white bottom.
Margie was admiring the roses, six pink and six
red, when she heard someone behind her clucking
their tongue. She turned to find Jane Styles,
her supervisor’s secretary, who looked up at
the clock and then back at Margie with a
disapproving frown.
“Late again? Twenty lashes with a wet noodle.”
“Have you seen these?” Margie said, gesturing
at the flowers.
“Yes. Your phantom sweetheart strikes again.”
“He’s not a phantom, he’s just shy.”
“One thing’s for sure- he’s crazy about pink.”
“And red.”
“I stand corrected. So how many gifts does
that make?” Jane wondered aloud. “First there
was that silk seat cushion...” She pointed to
the small red pillow on Margie’s chair.
“Then there were those red licorice whips
and now pink roses.”
“And red.” Margie repeated as she ran a finger
down the stem of one of the red ones. “Ow!”
“So what’s this guy trying to say?”
“I’m not sure.” Margie said, sucking her
finger. “But he seems awfully sweet.”
“Look at you.” Jane smiled warmly.
“You’re all aglow.”
“I can’t help it. I feel like a schoolgirl.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re going to feel like you’re
back in the principal’s office when Ralph gets
back from that meeting. He noticed you were
late before he left you know.”
“My car overheated.” Margie shrugged.
“Well, so did he and he wants to see you as
soon as he gets in.”
“Fine. I’ll just explain what happened.
I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“Okay... but I’d watch my ass if I were you.”
Jane said as she walked away.
Margie sat down and flipped on her computer.
She checked her e-mail and found four messages
waiting for her. There were two from clients,
one from her cousin in Somerset, New Jersey
and a forth one which was addressed:
Firmhand@Bottomline.com. She immediately
checked the forth message which read simply:
“Like the flowers?”
Margie quickly typed her reply:
“They’re lovely. Who are you?”
She waited for an answer then checked her other
messages. After replying to the clients and
sending her cousin a note, Margie checked her
in-box again. Nothing.
The next hour found Margie sitting nervously on
the edge of the couch in the worker’s lounge.
She bantered about this and that with another
saleswoman, Nancy Hamilton. After a while
she noticed that her co-worker was attempting
to eat a piece of strawberry cheesecake, drink
a cup of tea and browse through a sales report,
all while standing up.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Margie asked.
“I’m more comfortable standing, actually.”
Nancy said with a smirk.
“How come?”
“We just got our phone bill at home and it
was over two-hundred dollars. I’ve been
making a lot of long distance calls lately.
Anyway, when my husband saw the amount, he hit
the roof. Then he took me on a little trip
to the woodshed.”
Margie was puzzled by this phrase.
“He took you where?”
“You know... he set fire to my back porch.”
Now Margie was really confused. She’d been to
Nancy and Tony’s house and, as far as she could
remember, they didn’t have a woodshed or a
back porch.
Nancy sensed the lack of communication.
“What I’m trying to say is that Tony doesn’t
believe in sparing the rod. He’s a strict
disciplinarian.”
“I thought he was a Baptist.”
“No. I mean... oh, how can I explain this
to you?” Nancy said, taking two small ice packs
from the refrigerator.
“What are those for?” Margie asked.
“I want to keep a couple of things cold for
a while.” Nancy put the packs in the sink and
ran some water over them. “Hey, I know- we’re
having a little get together tonight with some
of our friends from the scene.”
“The scene? Are you two in a show?”
“Well, we do like role-playing.” Nancy placed
the ice packs on the counter and kneaded them
with her hands until they were pliable, then
dried them off with a paper towel. “Maybe you
could drop by and I can show you what Tony and
I are into.”
“Okay.” Margie said. “And you can show me that
new woodshed of yours.”
“Oh, I bet Tony would enjoy that! He’d love to
paint your cute little wagon!”
“But I drive a Honda.”
“Right.” Nancy sighed. “We’ll see you tonight.
I’m going to go try to sit down.” Nancy walked
out of the lunchroom taking the ice packs
with her.
A moment later, the elevator doors opened.
Mr. Akins exited and swiftly headed down
the hall. Barely glancing at Margie, he
motioned for her to immediately follow him
into his office.
Margie held her hands behind her back as she
stood on the carpet before Mr. Akins’ enormous
oak desk.
“Sit down.” Ralph said.
“Oh, I’d just as soon stand if it’s-”
“You’ll be doing plenty of standing later,
Miss Bach! Now sit down!”
Margie jumped a bit at the tone of her
employer’s voice and immediately placed her
bottom in a nearby chair.
“Now it goes without saying that you’re a
valuable asset to this company-”
“Why, thank you!” Margie interrupted.
“I’ve always tried to-”
“But asset or not, I expect all my employees
to show respect for the rules! We start our day
at nine a.m. in this office. Not nine-fifteen
or a quarter to ten. In the last three weeks,
you’ve been late for work on all but two days!”
“I know, but-”
“Yes, there was traffic, your alarm didn’t go
off, or your car wouldn’t start... all fine
excuses, but you can only use them so often.”
Mr. Akins pushed himself away from his desk.
“I have tried to patient about this, but my
patience is at an end.” he said as he opened
the top drawer of his desk. He then removed a
large wooden hairbrush and placed on top of
the desk.
“What an odd time to brush his hair!”
Margie thought.
“This won’t be pleasant, of course. But I’m
sure even you’ll agree that it’s long overdue.”
Margie did agree. Mr. Akins hair was always
a bit messy. There were often little tufts of
hair sticking up here and there and his part
was never straight.
“Well, that’s true.” Margie said. “It is about
time you took care of it.”
Mr. Akins was a bit surprised at her attitude.
“I’m pleased to hear you say that. But I must
warn you, I’m going to be extremely firm.”
“Oh, the firmer the better.” Margie replied.
“I think about fifty hard strokes a day should
do it.”
“Really? Fifty? Every day?!”
“You do want to take care of this, don't you?”
“Yes, but-”
“Then you’ve got to be diligent. That’s all
there is to it.”
“You’re absolutely right!” Mr. Akins said,
rolling up his right sleeve and pushing his
chair clear of the desk. “Now, if you’ll come
over here and-”
Just then, Jane’s voice blared over the
intercom.
“Your wife is on line one, sir.”
Ralph pushed the answer button and snarled.
“Tell her I’ll call back, damn it! I’m just
getting to the bottom of something here!”
“She says it’s urgent.” the voice on the
machine replied. “Your daughter needs you to
bail her out again.”
“Shoplifting?”
“I’m afraid so.” said his secretary
“Oh, for the love of... Why can’t she go down
and bail Jennifer out?!”
“She says she’s in a very important meeting at
the club.”
“Which means she’s playing bridge with her
friends and can’t be bothered!”
“What do you want me to tell her?” Jane asked.
“Tell her I’m on my way over to the jail right
now and that I’ll see her when I get home!”
Mr. Akins stood and walked over to grab his
jacket from the rack. “I swear, I’m at the end
of my rope with that girl! She’s constantly
getting into this kind of trouble and her
mother is no help at all!” As he put his jacket
on he pulled a business card from one of
the pockets. “Damn!” he said, looking at the
card. “I was going to talk to these people
today, but I’ll make it now.” He handed the
card to Margie. It was pink with red letters
reading: Hollywoodshed Productions. “It’s a
studio in Universal City. They make sort of
adult-type films. Anyway, they’re thinking of
getting a tanning booth for some of their
actresses. Go down there and talk to the owner.
If you land this account, I’ll forget about you
being late, all right?” With that, Mr. Akins
headed out the door.
“Don’t forget this.” Margie said, picking the
hairbrush up off the desk and handing it to him.
“That’s an excellent idea!” Ralph said, staring
at the brush in his hand. “Perhaps I can take
care of two problems at once!”
Margie followed him out into the hallway.
“And remember- good hard strokes!”
“I’ll remember!” Mr. Akins said, stepping into
the elevator. “And so will they!” he said to
himself as the doors closed.
Margie returned to her computer to find a new
e-mail message. It was from Firmhand.
“How about dinner tonight?”
“Maybe. But first, can you at least tell me if
we’ve met?” she replied.
While she waited for an answer, Margie picked
up her phone and paged Nancy at her desk.
“Hi, it’s Marge. Listen, you know those ruby
earrings I let you borrow? Well, I think
I’ve got a hot date tonight, so I need to
borrow them back.”
“Sure.” Nancy said. “Why don’t you drop by
my place on your way and pick them up.
While you’re there, you can come in for a few
minutes and check out the action at our party.”
“If I have time. But you will have the
earrings for me?”
“No problem.”
As she hung up, a new e-mail message appeared
on Margie’s computer screen.
“Still haven’t figured it out?” it began.
“Okay, I’ll give you a clue. I once had you in
an embarrassing position. I just hope you were
able to sit down afterward.”
The message had Margie completely mystified.
“You aren’t one of my old baby-sitters,
are you?”
A few minutes later, Firmhand replied.
“Nope. So here’s the deal: If you want to find
out who I am, meet me at Delaney’s restaurant
on Rosemead at seven o’clock sharp. Be there
on time... or else. ;)”
Margie was intrigued by the notion of meeting
her mystery admirer, but she knew she had work
to finish first. She looked at the business
card Mr. Akins had given her.
“Hollywoodshed?” she thought. “What kind of
name is that?”
The Hollywoodshed office and film studios
occupied the twelfth floor of the Carlson
building on Rivera Boulevard. Margie entered
the foyer which was done in off-white and
passed through a salmon colored hallway which
lead to a reception room that was decorated in
shades of fuchsia and magenta with a fire
engine red reception desk.
“I’ve been a bad, bad girl...” Fiona Apple
crooned through the stereo speakers on
the walls.
The receptionist, a stunning little blonde
who had been leafing through an old issue of
National Lampoon looked up at Margie as
she entered. “Hi, I’m Cheryl. Can I help you?”
“Yes. I’m looking for a Mr. Michael...” Margie
looked back down at the card.
“Bernard. You must be his two o’clock.” Cheryl
looked up at the clock which displayed a famous
cartoon mouse with a female mouse bent over
his lap. His right hand was in the air with a
white glove pointing at one while the other
hand which seemed to be holding his companion
in place showed that it was forty minutes past
the hour. “You’re a little early, but that’s
all right. Let me just tell him you’re here.”
“Mr. Bernard, you’re next appointment is here.”
“Oh... fine.” Michael’s voice came back over
the speaker. “Ask her to wait just a moment.”
“So he’s expecting me?” Margie asked.
“Yes, but I doubt he’s got any idea what’s he’s
in for.” Cheryl said, eying Margie from head
to toe. “He’s going to love you!”
“My, aren’t you nice! I hope you’re right.
Does Mr. Bernard do much tanning himself?”
“He does most of it around here. In fact,
he’s already done some tanning this morning.”
she said with a wry smile as she gave her
backside a gentle rub.
“Oh, then he already has a machine?”
Cheryl stared at Margie in amazement.
“Don’t tell me they’ve actually invented
a machine!”
“Yes! You mean you’ve never seen one?”
“Well, I’ve heard people joke about them.
My dad often threatened to build one, but-“
“No, no. They’re quite real.” Margie began
to reach into her valise for a brochure.
“Here, I’ll show you...”
Mr. Bernard’s voice cut in through the intercom.
“Okay, send her in.”
As Margie entered Mr. Bernard’s office she
noticed an Asian girl in pigtails exiting
gingerly through a side door. Margie thought
her eyes were playing tricks on her because
the young woman appeared to be wearing white
woolen long johns.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“No.” said Mr. Bernard who was sitting in a
straight-back chair in the middle of his
office. “My little Chelsea was just leaving.”
“Oh, she’s your daughter?”
“Well, lets just say she calls me ‘daddy’.”
Mr. Bernard took a long, leisurely look
at Margie.
“Am I wrong or was she wearing-”
“Bottom-flap pajamas.” he said. “I’m thinking
about using them in an upcoming production,
so she was modeling them for me. Cute, aren’t
they?”
“I suppose. But they seem awfully warm for
summer! I mean, won’t she be burning up
in those!”
“Parts of her, yes.” he replied, settling into
his chair. “Now tell me about yourself.
Have you ever done any acting?”
It seemed like an odd question to Margie, but
after all, he was the customer.
“Just once.” she answered with a small shrug.
“I was an understudy in a high school musical,
Kiss Me Kate.”
“I love that show! That must have been fun!”
“It was, until I actually had to go on stage!
You see, closing night the girl that played
the lead role got sick and I had to go on in
her place. I was scared out of my pants!”
“Were you able you pull it off?”
“Oh, everyone said I was great! But the whole
thing was nothing but a big blur for me. I was
so terrified, I guess I just blotted the whole
thing from my memory. But you didn’t bring in
me here to talk about my acting skills now,
did you?”
“No, I suppose not.” Mr. Bernard admitted with
a smile.
“So let’s get to the matter at hand, because
I just know you’re going to like what I have
to show you.”
“I’m sure I will!”
“I have some lovely color photographs here.”
Margie said, reaching into her valise.
“I’m sure you do and I will want to look at
them all later.” Mr. Bernard motioned for her
to put the valise back down on the desk.
“But I’m not interested in pictures at
the moment. Right now, I’d really prefer a
personal demonstration. Are you up for that?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Instead of answering, Michael simply tilted his
head a bit and gave Margie’s body the once over
with his eyes.
What he was talking about suddenly became clear
to Margie.
He wanted to see her tan lines.
“Oh... well, I guess I don’t see any harm
in that.” she said, positioning herself
directly in front of Mr. Bernard’s chair.
She then carefully undid the top two buttons
of her blouse, leaned forward and ever so
discreetly revealed her left shoulder and
bathing suit strap. Then she folded back the
other side of the blouse to display her right
strap line. Each time she was careful to
expose only the smallest amount of cleavage.
This amount, as it happened, was just enough
to drive her audience of one directly up
the wall. It wasn’t at all what Michael had
expected, but Margie’s innocent smile and the
tantalizingly modest view of her lovely white
bosom was so awe inspiring that his mouth went
completely dry, leaving him able only to smile
widely and nod his approval. Politely smiling
back at him, Margie began to lift the side of
her skirt to display the strap line at her hip
when she suddenly remembered something.
She wasn’t wearing any panties.
Months before, a naughty whim had lead her to
choose one day a week, usually Friday, on which
to go without underwear. It had seemed like
a fun idea... until that moment.
“I think I’d better show you something else!”
Remembering that there was a picture of a woman
in a bathing suit in the brochure, Margie
turned to get her valise. As she did, Chelsea
came bursting in through the side door.
The gust of wind from the door opening caused
the back of Margie’s skirt to fly up giving a
Michael a brief but staggering view of heaven.
From his position, he could clearly see every
detail of Miss Bach’s perfectly round,
perfectly smooth, perfectly porcelain-white
bottom. But as quickly as the show had begun,
it was over. Margie gasped and pushed her skirt
back into place.
“Who said you could come out of your room?!”
Michael snapped at Chelsea.
“I thought you wanted to-”
Michael stood and took a step toward the girl
in pigtails.
“Never mind what you thought! Now get back
in there or you’ll get twice what you already
had coming!”
With a full pout on, Chelsea turned tail and
left the room, slamming the door behind her.
Mortified by the fact that she’d been caught
without her panties, Margie leaped into the
empty chair and self-consciously attempted to
pull her skirt down over her thighs.
“I-I don’t know what to say, Mr. Bernard!
I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my
life!” she stammered.
“Why? It’s not your fault she came barging in
like that! Believe me, it won’t happen again!”
Visions of Chelsea standing in a corner with
glowing red buns flashed before his eyes.
“Mr. Bernard...” Cheryl’s voice came over
the intercom. “Your two o’clock appointment
just called. She says she won’t be able to get
here until 3:30.”
Michael stared at the intercom speaker for a
moment and then turned to Margie.
“Wait... so you’re not Maria Parker from the
Bare Essentials modeling agency?”
“No. I’m Margie Bach from Tan-Well.”
Michael put his hand to his forehead.
“The tanning booth!” he shouted. “I completely
forgot about that! Miss Bach, I’m so sorry!
Please forgive me!”
“Does this mean you still want to deal with
our company?”
“Of course!” he laughed. “I’d already decided
to buy a Tan-Well machine, I just didn’t know
which model to get!”
“Oh, I’m so relieved! Well, let me show you
what we have to offer!”
Margie took out the brochure and leaned
forward as she unfolded it on the desktop.
Mr. Bernard stood directly behind her,
his eyes transfixed on her hind quarters.
“This is our top of the line model.” she said.
“Yes... top of the line!” Michael whispered.
“I think it’s the perfect thing for you.”
“Mmm... perfect.”
“Then you’re interested?”
“So much, I can’t tell you!”
“Great!” Margie dragged the straight-back chair
behind Mr. Bernard’s desk so he could sit
while he reviewed and signed the paperwork.
“Do you ever feel the need for discipline,
Miss Bach?” he asked, trying to sound casual
as he signed one of the documents.
“Sure. I mean, sometimes I’m naughty and go
off my diet a little, but then I go right to
the gym and work it off.”
“Yes, I can see you like to stay in shape.
You have an unbelievably beautiful body.”
“Think so?” Margie said, attempting to look
over her shoulder at her derriere. “Thanks!
I’ve been working on my glutes a lot, but I
can’t seem to get them as trim as those
models do.”
“Those models are nothing but bone.” Michael
said, putting his hand to his temple in an
attempt not to look. “There’s nothing there to
work with! But yours!” he continued as he moved
his hand away and stared directly at the object
of discussion. “It’s impossible to ignore!”
“Tell me about it!” Margie agreed. “In school,
the boys were always sneaking up and slapping
it, really hard too!”
“Well, boys will be boys!” Michael said
touching his chin to make sure it wasn’t
bathed in saliva.
“Come to think of it, it got slapped a lot in
the girl’s locker room, too. I bet there wasn’t
a single girl in my gym class that didn’t
take a crack at my cheeks at least once in
the shower! Have you ever had your bare bottom
slapped when it’s all wet like that? Let me
tell you, it stings like crazy!”
“I can imagine!” Michael gasped.
“On my seventeenth birthday I was coming out
of the shower and they all ganged up on me and
bent me over a towel hamper. Then they took
a ping-pong paddle and each gave me seventeen
real stingers and a pinch to grow on! I sure
had a hard time sitting through math class
after that!”
Mr. Bernard suddenly felt faint. His eyes
rolled back in his head and the pen slipped out
of his hand and fell to the floor.
“Oops! Let me get that.” Margie said, bending
over his lap to retrieve the pen. Michael
looked down. His eyes came back into focus and
there it was- the opportunity of a lifetime!
It was too good to be true and far too sweet
to resist. So he lifted his right hand high
into the air. But tragically, Margie stood up
just as he was taking aim and placed the pen
into his open palm. As he finished signing the
papers, it was everything Michael could do to
keep from weeping.
“I certainly enjoyed doing business with you.”
Margie said as Mr. Bernard walked her to
the door. “This was the easiest sale I’ve
ever made!” She reached out to give him a firm
handshake, but Michael gently took her hand
into his, patting it softly.
“Miss Bach, I believe you could sell me a
fiberglass jockstrap.”
“Mr. Bernard!” Margie gulped as she withdrew
her hand. “You’re going to make me blush.”
“If only.” he said, closing the door as
she left.
After a few seconds of fond reflection, Michael
removed a large wooden paddle from the wall
behind his desk.
“Chelsea!” he shouted. “You better haul that
little fanny of yours in here right now!”
Still pouting, the young woman in long johns
immediately marched herself into the office
and bent over at the waist with her hands
resting on the edge of Mr. Bernard’s desk.
Michael looked down and was pleased to find
that she had already lowered the flap.
Margie rushed back to the office through the
thick afternoon traffic. She knew that if she
was going to finish up this deal, then get to
Nancy’s to pick up the earrings and make it
to the restaurant on time, she’d really have to
haul ass. Everything seemed to be against her.
She couldn’t get the warehouse on the phone for
an hour and then her computer froze and had to
be re-booted. It was sundown when she left the
Tan-Well office and as soon as she got on the
freeway, Margie found herself in the middle of
a major traffic jam.
“Friday in L.A.!” Margie fumed. She turned on
the radio and heard the end of a commercial
for Aunt Jacqueline’s Oven-Fresh Buns.
Then the disc jockey came on.
“Let’s start off our all-Madonna weekend with
a song from the Dick Tracy soundtrack.”
Margie quickly turned it off.
“I’m getting tired of her!” she griped.
Finding nothing better to do, Margie started
reading the license plate frame on the car in
front of her. “Sometimes I just need...”
the top part of the frame began, but the
bottom half was so bent out of shape that
it was unreadable. “Somebody must have really
done a number on her rear end!” Margie thought.
It was so late by the time she finally got to
Nancy’s house that Margie practically leaped
from her car as she parked. She scampered up to
the porch and rang the bell urgently. A minute
later, Nancy opened the door. Her face was
flushed, she seemed out of breath and oddest
of all, she was wearing a French maid’s uniform
with very high heels.
“That’s a cute little outfit!” Margie said.
“I didn’t realize it was a costume party.”
“It’s not, really. In fact, I probably won’t be
wearing this for very long.” Nancy said,
reaching into one of the pockets on the her
short, ruffled skirt. “Here you go.” She took
out a pair of earrings and handed them over.
“Thanks.” Margie then looked down and noticed
something strange. “I don’t know how to tell
you this, Nancy, but your panties are down
around your ankles.”
“I know.” Nancy sighed. “I have to walk around
like this for a while. It’s part of this game
we’re playing.”
“I see. Sort of a penalty?”
“Oh, yes! There are a lot of penalties in
this game!”
“Don’t take it so hard.” Margie said, noticing
that Nancy had been crying. “It’s just a game.
I used to play checkers with my boyfriend and
he beat the pants off me every time.”
“Nancy!” a man’s voiced boomed from the den.
“You just got a delay of game penalty!”
This was followed by the sound of a large group
of men and women laughing.
“Oh geez! I’ve got to run! I hope your date
goes really well. Bye.” Nancy panted quickly
and closed the door.
“Don’t people play Monopoly anymore?!”
Margie thought as she headed back to her car.
It was nearly 8:30 when she walked through the
front door of Delaney’s, the stylish bistro her
mystery date had suggested as a rendezvous
point. When she peeked into the dining room,
there were several couples sitting together,
but nobody who looked as if they were waiting
for someone. Then she heard a man’s voice
behind her.
“Excuse me, are you Margie Bach?”
Margie turned around to face a balding,
elderly gentleman.
“Oh. Hello. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
she said, trying not to seem disappointed.
“It’s nice to meet you, too. But I think you've
misunderstood. I’m Charles, the manager.
The man you were supposed to meet was here
earlier. He waited for quite a while, well over
an hour, then he left about five minutes ago.”
“Oh... I see.” Margie sighed, looking down at
the floor.
Charles put his hand on Margie’s shoulder
and pointed to a stairway across the hall.
“So now he’s waiting for you in the Coral Room.
That’s the bar upstairs.”
Filled with new hope, Margie thanked Charles
and went up the stairs, taking two at a time.
She surveyed the crowded room from end to end,
but saw no one she recognized. The only person
that stood out at all was a well-dressed guy
at the end of the bar. She was thinking to
herself that she wouldn’t mind having him as
her mystery man when she suddenly realized that
it was Brian Fleming, the aspiring thespian who
had starred with her in that high school
production of “Kiss Me Kate.” And if he had
only been a strapping young man with a charming
smile back then, he was twice that now.
As she approached him, Brian turned to see her
beaming face.
“Margie Bach... at long last!” he exclaimed as
he stood to greet her.
“Brian! I can’t believe it!”
They embraced warmly before sitting down.
“So you’re Mr. Firmhand!” Margie said.
“Yeah, well that’s my e-mail name.”
“How’d you come up with that?”
“It’s a long story.”
“What’ll you two have?” the bartender said,
walking over from the cash register.
“I’ll have my usual, Stan.”
“Okay... and what about you, young lady?”
Margie thought for a moment.
“Can you make a pink lady?”
“You bet I can!” Stan said with a wink.
Brian and Margie joked and caught up with each
other’s lives for a while. Margie found out
that Brian worked for a publishing company.
“We publish horror and fantasy novels mostly.”
he told her.
“Like Stephen King?”
“No, but we have been involved with some of
Anne Rice’s early work.”
When the drinks arrived, Margie couldn’t help
noticing that Brian’s cocktail had a cherry
and an orange slice.
“What is that?” she asked.
“What- you’ve never had an Old-Fashioned?
Here, have some.”
He lifted the drink to her lips. Their hands
met around the glass. It burned at first,
but it left a very pleasant warm sensation
afterward.
“Mmmm. Thank you. May I have another?”
she smiled sweetly and took the glass from him
for a second swallow. This time it burned less,
but the warmth remained. Margie put the glass
back in front of Brian. “Have you ever had
a Pink Lady?” she asked, offering him some
of hers.
“Many times.” he said leaning forward to sip
from her glass. “But I never tire of them.”
After he’d sampled her drink, his face remained
close to hers, their lips almost touching.
“Firmhand!” Margie suddenly cried out, leaning
back and pointing at him. “I just remembered
what that means! That’s what Barbara used to
call you during rehearsals for ‘Kiss Me Kate’!”
“Bingo!” Brian replied, pointing back at her.
“Right! That scene where you took her over your
knee and walloped her in front of everyone!
She did complain about how realistically you
always performed that part of the show.
Hey, maybe that’s why she dropped out on
closing night!” Margie giggled. “Her poor
little butt probably just couldn’t take
any more!”
“Yes. well, I have a confession to make about
that.” Brian said, sounding somewhat contrite.
“You see, I talked Barbara into pretending she
was sick that night.”
“What?”
“Yeah. The thing is, I really wanted you to do
that scene... uh, I mean, I really wanted to
do that play with you.”
“Seriously?! I had no idea!”
“It’s true. And I’ve got to tell you, working
with you was the most exciting experience of
my life!”
“Thank you!” Margie said, placing her hands
on his.
“Can I ask you something, Margie? Did being
in that play ever... you know, do anything
for you?”
Margie thought carefully.
“Not really.”
“Oh.”
Brian’s shoulders fell a little.
“No, I never caught the acting bug. By the time
I graduated high school I already knew I wanted
to go into sales.”
“And you’ve done well from what I can see.”
Brian said, seeming to cheer up a bit.
“Well, it’s a good company! You know, Consumer
Reports did a study of thirty-five different
makes of tanning booths and they concluded
that Tan-Well makes twelve of the best!”
“Really? Well, here’s to twelve of the best.”
Brian said, lifting his glass.
Margie touched her glass to his. But then,
instead of drinking, they kissed. It was a
long, deep, warm kiss and afterward Margie was
quiet and began to blush a little.
“Brian...” she began sheepishly. “I’m really
sorry about being so late tonight. I mean,
leaving you waiting all alone in the restaurant
and everything. It was extremely inconsiderate.”
“Yes... now that you mention it.” he said with
mock consternation.
“It’s a bad habit of mine.” Margie ran her
finger playfully around the edge of Brian’s
jacket sleeve. “Somebody really should break me
of it.”
“I’d be glad help... but how?”
Brian casually brushed a lock of hair away
from Margie’s left ear as he spoke.
“Well, why don’t you just take me over-”
There was a loud crash of dishes in the
kitchen downstairs, then Margie continued.
“Why don’t you just take me over to your place
and give me a good... talking to.”
By the time the two walked out of Delaney’s
it had already been decided that they would
take Brian’s car back to his house. They had
also agreed that Margie needed more than a
stern lecture to improve her behavior.
“I could just send you home and not contact
you again.” Brian suggested lightly.
Margie put her hands on her hips and frowned.
“That’s much too strict!” she protested.
Then she gently took Brian’s jacket lapels in
her hands and pulled him close. “Besides, I’ve
already gone without my supper.” She pressed
her lips to his and they kissed deeply
once again.
“Your right. Bad idea.” he admitted, slightly
out of breath as the two walked over to his
burgundy Mercedes. Brian unlocked and opened
the passenger door. “I could confine you to
my room for the rest of the night.”
“That’s hardly a punishment.” Margie replied
with a knowing grin as she climbed in.
Brian closed her door and walked around to
the driver’s side to see Margie reaching
across the front seat to unlock his door
for him. Her sleek body was bent over the
armrest as she reached up and pulled the knob.
He took a deep breath and firmly jerked the
latch, then swung the door open and eased
himself inside. They sat in silence for
a moment.
“I could wash your mouth out with soap.”
Brian offered, putting his key into the
ignition and starting the car.
“You could... but that’s for bad language.
And I never use bad language.”
“Hmm.” Brian replied. “I suppose I could make
you write ‘I will not be late.’ four or
five-hundred times.”
“Yes, I guess that would teach me a lesson.”
Margie shrugged as they drove out of the
parking lot and onto the street. “Or you could
just spank me. I love a good spanking.”
THE END |
Wild1
New member
Username: Wild1
Post Number: 50
Registered: 08-2005
| | Posted on Friday, August 12, 2005 - 12:21 am: |
|
great story..never suspected the truth about Margie.
wild1 ;)
|
Kimbers
Spanko
Username: Kimbers
Post Number: 54
Registered: 08-2005
| | Posted on Friday, August 12, 2005 - 12:31 pm: |
|
I love it! Bravo! 
"When choosing between two evils I always like to take the one I've never tried before"
- Mae West
|
Smartnnaughty
Advanced Spanko
Username: Smartnnaughty
Post Number: 212
Registered: 05-2005
| | Posted on Saturday, August 13, 2005 - 06:18 am: |
|
Alex, you are very talented. I kept wondering when she was going to catch on. Personally I think she has a split personality of which only one is a spanko. That would explain things!
Thank you for your writing.
Sassy Sassy Sassy
No one can be as Sassy as me!
|
Cindi
New member
Username: Cindi
Post Number: 4
Registered: 08-2005
| | Posted on Sunday, August 14, 2005 - 06:04 am: |
|
That was a great story, TY.
Cindi |
Fanny
Moderator/Spanking Aficionado
Username: Fanny
Post Number: 1147
Registered: 05-2005
| | Posted on Monday, August 15, 2005 - 10:19 am: |
|
LOL!!!! This reminds me of Amelia Bedelia. You jusy have to love someone smart enough to pull up playing naive.
Queen of Innocence
"Well behaved woman rarely make history"
|
Hunnybunny
New member
Username: Hunnybunny
Post Number: 31
Registered: 07-2005
| | Posted on Thursday, August 18, 2005 - 03:35 pm: |
|
Love the story!
The best way to behave is not to
-Abercrombie & Fitch
|
Bobbi71
New member
Username: Bobbi71
Post Number: 8
Registered: 08-2005
| | Posted on Saturday, August 20, 2005 - 12:57 am: |
|
I really enjoyed your story, but I thought that it should have been her boss who was sending her flowers. |
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