Whack, whack, whack came the nonstop rhythm from the living room off 222 Oak Street in Middletown Connecticut. It was the tapping of April Kennedys hickory wood crop hitting her knee-high leather boots. She didn't know if she was pissed or worried. At the moment the not knowing of where her pet was, was not sitting well with her at all. He was usually pretty much diligent about his whereabouts. He would at least text her if he was going to late.
She looked at the fake gray granite clock hanging on the living room wall. "TWO HOURS! TWO FUCKING HOURS!" She screamed out to the almost empty room.
Her Persian cat jumped off the couch and hid under it.
April laughed at that. "Don't worry Boots I am going to use this on him only!"
She waved it at the bottom of the couch. "But he better have a damn good excuse, if not his ass is going to have welts that he won't be able to sit down without a wince or two for a month! "
She heard the tires crunch on the gravel outside as the car pulled into the driveway. "Finally!" She thought.
A car door slammed, and she sat down on the couch She took a deep breath and said, "Hear him out April and then beat his ass!"
The door opened and closed. It took a little bit before Michael came into the living room. She knew he was following her protocol.
He was to take off all his street clothes, place them in the chest by the door, put on his collar and then kneel at the threshold of the living room. He could not speak or enter until she gave him permission.
And then there he was kneeling at the doorway, his back straight, head up, eyes cast down and his arms behind his back. He had goosebumps on his skin as the air conditioning was on.
She stood up and walked over to him, she placed the crop on his shoulder and then tapped his nipples. She saw his body shiver a little as she did.
"So, pet why were you so late?" She asked him , her words seething.
His eyes met hers.
"Yes, you may speak my pet. So again, explain your tardiness tonight?" She asked.
He was about to speak when April's cell phone started to ding like crazy. She went over and looked at it. Her screen had 14 messages on it. Text after text and voice mail after voice mail. All from him explaining himself.
There had been an accident on the highway, it had closed the highway in both directions and poor Michael was right in the center of it all. There was no way to get out of it. He had to wait till the 5 car pile-up had been cleared.
She trusted him, but to confirm it all she looked it up on the local Television web site and there it was, photos of the tie-up.