Michael had had a bit of luck when he started looking for a new house. He heard through friends that Mr. Robertson had landed a good job overseas and was looking to sell house and furniture as a package deal. He was able to step in and get the house at a good price, not dirt cheap but possibly slightly under market, as Mr. Robertson was willing to cut the price a little for a fast settlement, as they were leaving very shortly.
With everything in the lawyers hands and the funds in escrow Mr. Robertson was free to fly out straight away, and for a nominal rental Mike was able to move in the day after. Mr. Robertson warned Mike that his daughter, Deirdre, had left a few boxes in the garage and would probably wander past some time to collect them. She was twenty now, and instead of moving overseas with them had opted to rent a flat with some friends. He'd let her know that Mike had already moved in so she wouldn't just barge in on him.
A few days had passed and Mike was settled in and working in his office when he heard noises outside. There was laughter and talking, and the sound of someone jumping in the pool. Curious, he wandered out into the yard to see what was going on. His curiosity was heightened when he saw that the noise was coming from three young women who were apparently sunning themselves and relaxing around the pool, nude.
He hesitated about approaching, but then thought the hell with it. It's my place and if they want to run around here naked I'm entitled to ask why. He was walking over to where two of the girls were sunbaking when the girl in the pool screamed and pointed to him. Mike started to smile at the mixed reactions, then stopped and stood quite still. The girl in the pool had ducked down against the edge of the pool, while one of the sunbathers had promptly hunched over to conceal herself. He was OK with those reactions, but unfortunately the second sunbather, the one nearest him had turned her head to look at him, lunged up and grabbed a gun out of her bag, and was now pointing it at him. Nasty looking thing, that gun, and even nastier was the way her hand was shaking.
Before he could say anything, the girl was yelling at him, calling him names and telling to get the hell out of there. Mike was getting really irritated with this. "What the hell?" he thought. "This is my house. They're the trespassers and they're ordering me off?"
"Alright," Mike said, in what he hoped was a soothing voice, "let's just put the gun down and you can explain to me what you're doing here."
"Just go away," yelled the girl.
"Look," snapped Mike, "I don't like guns pointing at me. If you don't put it away, now, I will take it off you and then put you over my knee. Neither of us want that, now do we."
"I'm not putting it down. Just go away. We're calling the police, and then you'll be in trouble."
Mike sighed, loudly. "There will be no need to call the police." His thumb jerked towards the house as he continued, "Charlie was probably calling the cops as soon as you pulled the gun."
"Idiot," he thought, as the girl swung startled eyes towards the house.
As soon as her eyes moved he had taken a quick stride forward and to the right, moving away from the front of the gun and putting himself in easy reach. His hand clamped on hers before she even had time to look back at him, taking the gun off her with ease.
"Warned you," he murmured, putting the gun down out of reach of the other girls, while sitting down on the recliner the girl had just left. Tugging on the hand he was still holding, the young woman suddenly found herself face down across his knee. She started to yell, when the yell turned into a squeal as his hand came down firmly on her bottom.
"I don't like guns," he explained, using his hand to emphasise what he was saying. "They're dangerous things, especially in the hands of silly little girls."
The girl on the recliner protested. "If you've got eyes you can plainly see we're not little girls, and the gun is not loaded anyway. Deirdre knew that, as I told her so when I showed her the gun."
"Really, and who are you, and why are you wandering about with an empty gun?"
"I'm Susan. It's my dad's gun. I'm returning it for a friend of his who borrowed it."
"And you checked personally, to see that it was unloaded? Did Deirdre also check? As far as I'm concerned that's a loaded gun."
"Yes, I checked. You can bet your ass on that gun being empty," came the sarcastic reply.
"Actually, you just bet your own ass on it, smartie. I'm going to check the gun and if it's loaded, you're going across my knee as well, for stupidity with a loaded gun," growled Mike, still pissed off about the whole issue. Pulling guns on him, loaded or no. He could've had a heart attack.
"Check away," came the flippant reply, "then go away. You're not wanted here."
Mike picked up the gun. "OK, safety is off. That was careless of you. The magazine is out. That's a plus for you. Last check..." Mike worked the slide and the round up the spout flew out onto the grass.
"Oh dear," he murmured, as the girls paled while looked at the bullet on the ground. "So that idiot gets her hands on a gun, that doesn't have the safety on and has a round up the spout. And people wonder how accidents happen."
"Looks like you lose," he added, moving quietly toward Susan, who jumped to her feet, starting to back away.
Mike ignored her attempts to apologise. He sat down, pulled Susan across his knee, and told her she could consider what was coming just a session of negative reinforcement to encourage the observation of gun safety.
There followed a few unpleasant moments for Susan, who was shortly back on her face with a red bottom, to match the furious and embarrassed flush on her face.
A voice then spoke up. "I'm Michelle. Are you now going to look for an excuse to beat me as well?"
