The South Hall door slams shut behind me as I step out into the warm spring air. I stop briefly and inhale fresh air festooned with a blend of springtime scents. Life is all around and in full swing.
I love Oberlin in the spring.
I start to walk briskly to Dascomb. It's been a difficult week with Lara. Between some exams and papers due, she hadn't been in the best of moods, and had snapped at me a couple of times, but I let it pass. Now that her final exam was done and final paper turned in, we had a lazy Saturday afternoon to spend together. A picnic at the Arb would be just the thing.
Walking through Harkness bowl I surreptitiously steal glances at the Harkie ladies who have decided to take their tops off to enjoy the weather. Tits, just like the sun, are out today.
I love Oberlin in the spring.
I get to Dascomb and knock on her door. Katie is gone for the weekend and perhaps after our lunch we could come back to her place. You answer the door wearing a floral printed sun dress that is entirely appropriate for the season and looks just great on you. The skirt falls over your shapely bottom, and your hard nipples are poking out the front. Maybe we should skip lunch and just stay in.
"You're late" you say, with a bit of a scowl on your face.
"Sorry, my practice session went long and then I had to..."
"Whatever", you cut me off. "Let's just go"
We exit Dascomb and walk past the Con towards Gibson's to get sandwiches and drinks. I'm feeling a little caught off guard by your mood, but I put it down to the lack of decompressing from your paper. As we enter Gibson's we walk up to the deli counter. You order your sandwich and then I order mine. Roast beef on a hard roll with baby Swiss.
"I'm sorry, we're out of baby Swiss-would you like something else?" Hmm. Should I have regular Swiss? Havarti? Or try something new. My though process is broken as you say "Just pick something already!". Embarrassed I mumble that regular Swiss is fine. We pay for our sandwiches and go, but my blood is rising. I have endured an entire week of this with understanding and good humor, and I am ready for it to be done.
We step out of Gibson's and I turn right.
"Hey, the Arb is the other way, where are you going?" you say.
"We need to make a quick stop at the Mini-Mart"
"Come on! Why do we need to go to the Mini Mart?"
I turn and look at you squarely in the face, and in a soft, stern voice, I say "Because we are going to buy a hairbrush, and when we get to the Arb I am going to blister your bare bottom with it."
Stunned, you turn quiet. We walk to downtown and climb the stairs to the Mini-Mart. "Hey, um, we really don't need to go in there. Let's just go have a nice lunch."
"No, we are going to go in. And you are going to pick out the hairbrush that I am going to paddle your butt with. And you'd better get a good one, because while you're shopping for the hairbrush, I will be shopping for a belt. And if you don't pick an adequate hairbrush, I will use the belt instead.
We open the door and walk in. The Mini-Mart was really just a space in an office building full of second-hand clothing and vintage possessions. Some real treasures could be found there amongst all the junk, if you had the patience.
You leave me and walk over to the vintage hairbrushes. A lot of plastic. Ick. Some lovely old Bakelite brushes. Surely collectors items, but likely to break into a million pieces if used in a corrective manner. Also no good. A few smaller wooden hairbrushes. Those certainly wouldn't be acceptable-they look like they were made for a child. And then you see it.
It was a beautiful brush that had clearly seen decades of loving use. The body made of burled walnut showed it age but still glistened in the light. The large, flat oval back looked like it may well have seen the backside of many a miscreant in days gone by. Boar bristles were stiff and sharp. It was in remarkably good shape and well worth the $5 price tag. You chose this one.
You find me and gasp when you see what is in my hands. About two inches wide, this vintage belt made of English stirrup leather was well used, and all the stiffness had long since gone out of the leather, giving it a remarkable suppleness and a considerable weight. I take the brush from your hands and examine it. "Yes, this is perfect. Good job, sweetie". You feel yourself smile a bit with pride as I pay for both items and go.
Our walk to the Arb in the beautiful spring air was lovely. We talked about your papers and your exams, and my preparation for my upcoming recital, and all other sorts of pleasant fripperies that occupy the minds of college students.
Arriving at the Arb we make our way to a secluded clearing and spread out the blanket. The sandwiches are terrific, as usual, and we luxuriate in the warm spring air with the sounds and smells of life all around us.
After an hour or so of quality time you wonder if I was just trying to scare you. Did I make an idle threat? Of course I did! I would never spank you like that, it was all just talk. You feel your spirit lighten and you finally start to relax after such a tough week.
"Well, then, I guess we should get your spanking out of the way."
And like a gunshot you are back to earth. "Wait, but, but I thought..."
"You thought what? Sweetheart, you have been a bitch to me all week, and I meant exactly what I said. You need a good hiding and I'm going to give it to you, now come over here."
