Sitting in my room that evening I squirmed in my computer chair. The roasting of my bare bottom Maureen had just a hand, or more accurately, a strap, in, had left me having difficulty sitting.
I stood from my chair and walked to the door. Not wanting my sister, Heather, to see my discomfort I had shut the door behind me as I entered my room. Hanging on the back of the door is a full length mirror. Removing my pajama pants I placed them on the edge of the bed. I had to do so gingerly because my backside was still painful to the touch after the long talk Maureen's leather strap had with my bare bottom earlier in the day.
I turned and looked over my shoulder back towards the mirror. My naked ass was purple, with deep red areas covering each cheek. Slowly, I rubbed my bottom, feeling the pain with each movement.
My sister, Heather, aside from being my roommate, and three years older, is almost always home. In her job as a Marketing Director she has the luxury of working from home. Rarely a day went by that we did not sit and chat about our day, or what we had going on.
When I had gotten home that afternoon from my "talk" with Maureen, my sister was sitting at the counter in our kitchen. I had hurriedly walked past her, tossing out only a simple, "Hi sis," as I continued to my room. Her faced was buried in her phone to where she had replied with a casual, "Uh, huh," back at me.
That level of casual interaction was not the norm, however. It had, after all, been only this morning at breakfast that I had told Heather I was thinking of going back to Antique City. Her asking me if I did was a given. As I continued looking at my well-whipped bare bottom in the mirror I knew that is why I had not left my room since getting home.
There was no avoiding Heather, though. Sooner or later I would have to go out for dinner. The chicken she was cooking up this evening smelled delicious, even through my closed door.
Biting my lip, I pulled my pajama bottoms back on and opened my door, eventually making my way to the kitchen. Heather was standing at the stove with her back to me, using a spatula to move the chicken about in the pan. Thirsty, I walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a can of Pepsi.
Pulling on the tab I popped the can open. The sound of it opening caused Heather to turn around. She was wearing a red plaid apron with a chicken emblazoned across its front. Ironic, I thought.
"It's about time you made your presence known," Heather commented.
"Yeah, I know," I replied back. "It's been a long day."
"Antique stores will do that to you," she remarked.
I nodded in agreement and then went to a stool at the counter. Heather watched me as I winced while settling onto the hard, wood, surface of the stool.
"What is wrong with you?"
As I did a few weeks ago after my first visit with Maureen, I lied to Heather saying I had another leg cramp.
"It must be," I lied, "from all the walking around the shops today."
Rolling her eyes, she snarkily replied, "If you say so."
What did Heather mean by that? My mind told me to let it go. Unfortunately, my mouth wasn't listening. "What does that mean," I asked solemnly.
"Well," she began, "let's just say I don't think you go shopping when you go to Antique City."
Puzzled, I asked back," Why is that?"
"Well, you have gone out there twice in the last few weeks, and haven't bought a thing. At least not that you have shown me. And you know I love antiques yet you haven't even shared if you have seen anything I might like. And...then there's today..." she paused and looked at me intently.
"What about today?" I answered back, not knowing where she was going with her statement.
"I was at Antique City today, Keith. I saw you leaving Maureen's store well past when she closes. I mean, it was like 1:30pm."
"Wait, you know Maureen?"
"Duh, hello McFly, think," Maureen mimicked while softly knocking on my head with her right fist. "I go to the antique stores all the time. Of course I know Maureen. Hers is my favorite shop, even."
Heather then reached down and opened the kitchen drawer by her left leg. She pulled out a thick, heavy wooden spoon and it laid it on the counter. "Where do you think I got this spoon?"
I couldn't believe what my sister was saying. This conversation needed to be changed, and fast.
"Wow, what do you stir with a spoon that size," I asked with a feigned interest.
"No, no, don't try changing the subject. Why did you leave Maureen's store so late this afternoon? You were in there for over an hour after she closed. What were you doing?"
I knew I couldn't tell Heather the truth. I mean, what was I supposed to say? I was there getting my bare bottom whipped with a leather strap?
Looking up at her I told a half-truth. "Oh, I just go to help her with her paperwork." I reasoned it as a half-truth because Maureen's paperwork included her reading my note. I just omitted the end result.
Heather wasn't buying it. "But I saw her today give you a few pats on your butt as you were leaving. Seems like something more than just...," Heather air quoted, "helping her with paperwork."
I laughed, trying to end the discussion, and said, "Oh she was just being silly by doing that."
Her look was that of a skeptic as she tried to size up my answers. "This is too weird. Something seems up. I may not be able to put my finger on it right now...but I will sooner or later." Heather then opened the drawer and put the spoon away.
I shrugged my shoulders with an "I don't know" mumble and got up to make my plate.
I could sense Heather was still percolating as she sat eating her dinner. My mind, however, had turned away from our discussion and onto that long wooden spoon she brought out.
I had never seen it before. The drawer she took it out of I had gone into that morning to get a metal spoon for my cereal and it was not there. Now, Heather had this imposing wooden spoon, with a thick round handle with a large, dense end with a deep scoop.
"Hey Heather, when did you get that spoon? I don't remember seeing it before today," I asked.
Heather got out of her chair, walked to the kitchen sink, and placed her plate and silverware in the basin. Reaching to her left, she opened the drawer again and pulled out the spoon. She tapped it in her palm a few times. "You mean this one?"
Watching her tap the spoon in her hand gave me goosebumps. I nodded "yes."
"I bought it yesterday at Maureen's. It was in my room and I just put it in the drawer this afternoon. Why?"
"Oh, no reason, I was just curious."
My line of questioning was probably not for the best. It seemed like I was poking the bear.
After dinner I retreated to my room. Heather wanted to play cards but I had to get away from her in hopes she would forget our conversation.
Luckily, thanks to our work schedules, we did not see each other much over the next week. In fact, over the next almost two weeks I don't think I said more than 25 words to Heather. Each time I saw her, though, I could tell she was still looking me over, contemplating something.
For me, my contemplation all revolved around her wooden spoon. I wondered if Maureen had another one just like it. Thinking back to my first visit to Ye Treasures of Olde I don't remember seeing one as I browsed the store. Of course, my eyes were fixated on finding a wooden bathbrush. To say I could have missed a wooden spoon such as Heather's would be an understatement.
I decided I needed to take Heather's spoon with me the next time I went to see Maureen.
There was just one problem with that plan: Heather. As I said earlier, Heather was always home. Our house, while not overly large, has a den just off the front door. This is where Heather worked, and also relaxed. Anytime I left she would either see me from the kitchen or from her "chill" spot.
Trying to get her spoon out of the apartment without her seeing it was going to be challenging. It was probably 12" long, and certainly would not fit in my pocket.
Waking up Saturday morning I still had no idea how to sneak out with the spoon. Stretching my arms out over my head I sighed. Pulling myself together I got dressed and made my way to the kitchen.
Walking around the counter I saw a note, held in place by a magnet, on the door of the refrigerator. In scribbled handwriting, Heather wrote, "Going to run some errands. Be back around 10:00am." I looked at the microwave. The time was a quarter until 10.
I rushed back to my room. It took only a few seconds for me to disrobe and jump in my shower. There wasn't much time, I thought, before Heather could be home. I needed to get clean, dressed, and out of the apartment, spoon in hand, as soon as I could.
It must have been the shortest shower I ever took. A few minutes after starting the shower I was done, and dressed. Quickly, I went to my desk and hurriedly picked up my keys and a small piece of paper, crinkling it as I fumbled it about trying to fold it in half. Putting the blank paper in my pocket I walked very fast out of my room and to the kitchen.
Opening the utensil drawer I reached in and pulled out Heather's long handled, thick, heavy wooden spoon. Holding it in my hand I could not help but swish it through the air a few times, and finally, once in my palm. I felt the excitement as I grabbed a plastic grocery bag from the pantry, placed the spoon inside, and walked out the front door, locking it behind me.
Hustling to my Jeep, I was able to get in just as Heather was pulling into the driveway next to me. I hastily took the bag and shoved it behind my seat and under my umbrella. I heard a sudden knock on my drivers side window.
Turning around, I saw Heather motioning for me to roll my windows down. Placing my foot on the brake, I pressed the ignition button, and then pushed the small lever on the drivers door that brought the window down.
"Hey Keith, where you headed?"
"Just to run some errands, like you," I replied, thinking that was kind of true.
Heather gave a simple, "Okay, drive safe" response and walked back to her car. As I backed out of the driveway I saw her picking up a small box from her trunk, before starting to walk towards our front door.
