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Message |
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: |
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great story..never suspected the truth about Margie. wild1 ;)
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Kimbers
Junior Spanko Username: Kimbers
Post Number: 54 Registered: 08-2005
| Posted on Friday, August 12, 2005 - 12:31 pm: |
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I love it! Bravo! "When choosing between two evils I always like to take the one I've never tried before" - Mae West
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Smartnnaughty
Spanko Username: Smartnnaughty
Post Number: 212 Registered: 05-2005
| Posted on Saturday, August 13, 2005 - 06:18 am: |
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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!
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Cindi
New member Username: Cindi
Post Number: 4 Registered: 08-2005
| Posted on Sunday, August 14, 2005 - 06:04 am: |
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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: |
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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"
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Hunnybunny
New member Username: Hunnybunny
Post Number: 31 Registered: 07-2005
| Posted on Thursday, August 18, 2005 - 03:35 pm: |
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Love the story! The best way to behave is not to -Abercrombie & Fitch
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Bobbi71
New member Username: Bobbi71
Post Number: 8 Registered: 08-2005
| Posted on Saturday, August 20, 2005 - 12:57 am: |
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I really enjoyed your story, but I thought that it should have been her boss who was sending her flowers. |
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