Paddlin' Madelyne Home

Synopsis: A happy-go-lucky Civil Engineer meets a vivacious young lady at a party who thereafter gives him nothing but constant grief. Naturally this hampers any growth of a relationship between them, until her family offers some helpful advice. A revised, updated version of one of my oldest stories.

Sex contents: A bit of Sex

Genre: Romantic Humor

Codes: MF, FF, Light Bondage, Oral, Spanking

Originally Posted at SOL: 2007-05-24

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Thanks still to my old original Editor Gandalf4217 and my current crop especially Dowd, Dragonsweb and Sue!

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Author's Forward:

This is one of very earliest published SOL stories (my fifth to be precise) and this was my first story where I deliberately tried to step out of the normal erotic story mode and tell a strange and rather odd sort of story, just for the sake of being weird and different. Very different than most of the stories I was reading from other authors. I wanted to create some meaningful characters and actually tell a story, while retaining an erotic atmosphere. I mostly succeeded.

I do this sort of thing all of the time nowadays and in fact it's getting to be sort of my trademark to write oddly perverse things that are completely (or subtly) odd and something pounces on the reader from out of left field. But this was a first for this story.

The reader responses at the time were decidedly 'Meah' and I had just about talked myself into skipping this story entirely for my series of revisions before posting the story for the first time on LIT, when out of the blue a reader emailed to tell me that this was his very favorite story of mine. Go figure!

********** CHAPTER 1

PADDLIN' MADELINE HOME

Words and Music by Harry Woods (1925)

I love a girl named Madeline, I know she loves me, too For ev'ry night the moon is bright, She rides in my canoe

At midnight on the river, I heard her father call, But she don't care and I don't care, If we get back at all

'Cause when I'm paddlin' Madeline home Gee! When I'm paddlin' Madelin' home First I drift with the tide, Then pull for the shore I hug her and kiss her, And paddle some more

Then I keep paddlin' Madeline home, Until I find a spot where we're alone Oh! She never says "No", So I kiss her and go Paddlin' Madeline, Sweet sweet Madeline Paddlin' Madeline home

'Cause when I'm paddlin' Madeline home Gee! When I'm paddlin' Madeline home First I kiss her a while, And when I get through I paddle for one mile, And drift back for two

Then I keep paddlin' Madeline home, Until I find a spot where we're alone Oh! If she'd only say "Throw your paddles away"

Paddlin' Madeline, Sweet sweet Madeline Paddlin' Madeline home

************

I really hadn't wanted to go to that party anyway, but my sister (step-sister actually) had an invitation that was good for two and she didn't have a date available that night to go with her. To receive an invitation at all was a fairly high honor, and being the social butterfly that she was, she very much wanted to go with someone under her arm.

This party which was held every spring and fall was a 'Singles Masked Ball', and was one of Houston's premier society events of the year and it was hosted by the wives of the prestigious Wildcatters Club. Only two hundred invitations were mailed, precisely one hundred each to the most select single men and women of the city. Supposedly, to even make it onto the preliminary 'Eligible Listing' you had to be worth at least one million dollars and of course have proper high society connections.

Heather had the fortune part quite easily; she had made a fairly large bundle when she cleaned out her ex-husband in her divorce settlement. She did have the aid of some carefully timed photographs taken by a very efficient and amoral private investigator that depicted some rather unusual acts between him and his rather dominant secretary that even in this modern and enlightened age would have been a bit too weird for 'polite society'. He paid, and paid well, to keep his secrets.

I didn't have anything close to a million in all of my own accounts combined but I was doing ok and living fairly comfortably for a guy in his early thirties. High society wasn't my scene anyway, plus I was a very marginal ex-Pro Football player (an Outside Linebacker) so I definitely didn't rate my own invite.

My pro sports career hadn't been that hot anyway. I played six seasons (long enough for the pension and medical benefits), but mostly spent my time either on the bench or on the Injury List. I'd had one bad foot injury early in my career that just never completely healed up properly, but I shouldn't complain. I made a bit of money and briefly got to live a life that others only dream about. I'm content with my mediocrity. I did get lucky my last season and the team whose bench I was riding as a fourth stringer won the Super Bowl, so I have 'The Ring', even though I never played a single down in that game.

My sister on the other hand, had always been good at schmoozing, and played the society game to the hilt, working her way up the big social ladder slowly but surely. This was her first big cue that she 'had made it' and she wanted to enjoy her first real triumph. Sis and I don't always see eye to eye, but we do sort of like each other and have tried to be 'family' and supportive when the other has really needed it.

We seem to each take after our very different mothers. I was fun loving and always the joker, while she tended to take herself far too seriously and never laughed, except for those fake polite society laughs. No matter, I said I'd be there for her and would try and have fun no matter how 'stuffy or snobby' the other three hundred and ninety eight attendees were.

Fortunately, since this party was definitely going to be by any standards '

La commedia dell'arte'

, I had just the perfect costume - a classic Italian Renaissance 'Harlequin' multi-colored diamond patterned suit complete with all of the silly accessories and trimmings including the red and black mask and a real theatrical slap-stick. Harlequin, with his representation of all of the riches and peculiarities of life, would be my perfect foil against anyone who took themselves far too seriously. Appropriately costumed, I was well prepared for a night of Foolery.

***********

By the time Heather and I arrived an hour late to the Ball at about 8:30 (Heather will be late even to her own funeral), the party was already in full swing and couples were laughing and dancing. I lost Heather nearly immediately to a circle of 'friends', of which I doubted she actually even knew the names of more than one or two, so with a glass of wine in one hand and my slap stick in the other hand I made a preliminary circuit of the ball room just to get the lay of the land. I made a few jests and even performed a pratfall or two for the delight of some fair ladies, and made sure that my wine glass stayed refreshed.

Maybe things weren't so bad in here after all!

Around the time of my third tour around the room, and after exhibiting my skill with my slap-stick on a few nicely attired female bottoms (it was their idea - really!), I noticed that one young lady at a corner table had not once arisen for a dance with any gentleman. I had seen several would-be suitors rejected, but none of them were Harlequin!

Loading my slap-stick up with a large charge of flash powder, I snuck up behind the young lovely (putting my finger to my lip to ward off the giggles coming from her also lovely young companion) and whacked the back of her chair with my slap stick.

BANG! Off went the flask powder between the two boards of my slap stick (a noisy device, but incapable of doing anyone harm) and up she shot out of her chair like a rocket.

"Yes, certainly my lovely Columbina!" I said with a grand gesture and taking her hand. "I will certainly honor your request for this dance."

Leaving my stick with her companion who was now laughing herself utterly silly, I dragged my fair (and quite protesting) damsel out onto the dance floor. The first words out of her mouth were not encouraging for the establishment of a happy long term romance (or even a short term infatuation).

"Are you stupid or just slow? My name is not Columbia, or whatever you called me. If you can't read my name tag I can try and help you with the more difficult letters".

Ouch! Clearly my beloved Columbina had not had the benefit of a proper classical education, but I was having too much fun still to quit. I did get a better look at her name tag which said 'Ramona'. She didn't look like a Ramona very much at all to me, but I continued.

"Noble Harlequin has often been denigrated and accused of being simple and of only having one thought in his mind at one time, tis true. Oh, but what a wonderful thought indeed it is! To hold your hand and clasp my hand around your slim waist and us dance forever together. Ah! That would be Life indeed!"

Fortunately, I could at least back up a bit of what my mouth was spouting; I was in fact a decent to quite good dancer. As part of my rehabilitation for my first and very lingering ankle injury, my physical therapist had suggested I take ballroom dancing lessons. This had indeed worked wonders, and my 'improved footwork' probably lengthened my Pro career by at least two years when I could only play smarter and not faster. Alas, my fair Columbina was determined to make things difficult for us... more so as it seemed she was not an especially good dancer and often stumbled across my feet...

"You're Nuts!" She exclaimed.

"Certainly not! I never offer them to just anyone and never on the first date, and besides it takes me forever to get into this Motley!" I glibly replied

For a moment I thought I almost saw a smile on her face before our song was over and she fled from me and the dance floor. I let her regain her seat, and I bowed before her nearly as fair companion and offered her a dance of her own.

"Hell, yes!" she replied, and off we were for another tour of the dance floor, this time with a much more genial partner. From a brief look at her name tag on her quite respectable cleavage, her name appeared to be 'Madelyne', but frankly that name didn't seem to fit her well either. In fact she didn't respond to it at all when I called her by it during our second dance.

We danced all of the next dances of the ball together (she was an excellent dancer), and we had a few laughs together until the 'Grand Unveiling' at midnight. Returning her to her seat afterwards, I left for a moment to refresh our drinks but not before I heard Madelyn call Ramona 'Maddie'. My suspicions had indeed been correct; the two ladies had switched name tags.

I returned with our three drinks and introduced myself properly, handing out a pair of my business cards and addressed each girl by their correct and proper name. Ramona, my primary dance partner for the evening, was greatly amused that I had figured out their little game, but Madelyne, if anything, just seemed to stew even more and became even surlier in tone and behavior. It seemed it was

my

fault that she had made the switch in the first place, in order to fend off 'wolves like me'.

Ok, then. Whatever. I had never been one to stay where I clearly wasn't wanted so I bid them both a good morning (it now being after midnight) and took one last stroll around the room and had a last drink or two before calling it a night (I was taking a cab home).

Frankly I never expected to hear from either woman ever again.

***********

Ramona had been fun to dance with, but we didn't seem to 'click' and she had not offered her phone number to me before I left. Therefore it came as a big surprise to get a phone call from Ramona on a late Thursday afternoon a few weeks later, asking if I was free for a drink after work on Friday?

"Certainly." I assured her, and she suggested the name of a club that I had vaguely heard of near downtown. I told her I thought I could be there by about 6:30 or so, depending upon Houston's nightmare rush-hour traffic in nearby Greenway Plaza, where I worked.

Sure enough, Ramona was there on time waiting for me, and I gave her a kiss on the cheek and a hug for a greeting. I ordered a round of drinks and found a table where we could almost hear ourselves think properly, and we sat down to talk. To my surprise, the main topic of conversation was Madelyne.

Right from the start, the conversation turned to business, rather than pleasure.

"This is more than a bit complicated, but Maddie is sorry for being a bitch to you at the Ball. She hadn't really wanted to go to it in the first place, even though it was something of an honor for her to have been selected as one of the one hundred most eligible single women in the city. She's got a thing about not flaunting her money, especially out in public."

"So she was rude because she was ashamed about her fortune?"

"Pretty much in a nutshell, yes. She really does have a lot of money - loads of it even, but it embarrasses and pisses her off to no end to have to display it or really even acknowledge that it is even there. In her opinion, just going to that party put her name up in lights for the golddiggers and fortune hunters to see. She expected to be 'swarmed by wolves', and thus she swapped nametags with me. So I wore the elite gold rimmed nametag while she wore the 'safer' silver Guest tag."

"Ok, fine… so what? I fail to see how this affects me in any way? The party is done and over with… and I was already very over her rudeness by the time I left the Ball."

You see, Maddie is 'complicated'. She has definite trust issues with strangers and was 'very bad at relationships'. This makes it a bitch for her to ask for help with a problem, any sort of problem. I should know, I've been her personal assistant for nearly five years."

"Alright, fine. But why did I need to know about this and why should I even particularly care?" Really, I didn't. I was going to give Ramona about two minutes to get to the point or else I was going to say goodbye and leave.

"To make a very long dramatic story short, Maddie was convinced that you were just one of the wolves, but the way you just walked out on her later convinced me that you weren't another fortune hunter."

"Trust me. Until the Ball I had never ever seen or heard of her before, nor did I much care a lick about any fortune she might or might not have. I've got my own money… and my own self-respect." I was just moments from getting ready to stand up and make my farewell. Being considered as a sexual or financial predator twice in the same week from the same set of women was really digging under my skin.

"We know… now. Maddie spent the last week having you thoroughly 'checked out' by several private investigators who didn't leave many stones left unturned. You were a good student in high school and college and had a very minor NFL career, and since your sports retirement you've worked as a Civil Engineer and all-around construction project manager for a small but successful family owned construction firm. You normally design and build strip malls but sometimes you've handled more challenging projects like large parking garages. Your 'habits seemed to be good' and always proper. Interestingly, one or two of the ladies they questioned were quoted as describing you as 'hunky' but too much of gentleman and wished that you were indeed more of a wolf."

That was more than enough. I stood up and got ready to leave, but not before giving Ramona a thoroughly bored look with an extra heavy roll of my eyebrows to emphasize my annoyance.

"Ok, so I have passed the Empresses audition, so to speak, so what? Whoop-dee-Doo! Get to the point now… please!"

"Please don't leave! Mattie wanted to offer you a job, something personal. She really wants your help!"

"Knowing your boss, I'm already 99% sure that I don't want it. She's a rather rude young lady and I don't owe her any particular favors and I certainly don't need her money. Besides I rather like the job I already have."

The rich may act this way, treating the peasants like chattel, but at heart I was very much a country boy born and raised, where a person's words were measured against their actions, and an old fashioned "handshake deal" was very much the norm and there was little need for 'big city lawyers' and signed contracts the size of a telephone book. In short, I was already pretty sure that I couldn't trust Madelyne with even so much as a burned out match.

"You're a very good dancer," Ramona said hurriedly, "probably the very best one that either of us know of personally by name. Maddie wants very badly to enter the dance contest at our company's forthcoming big Christmas party. And yes, before you ask, her father owns the company. It's your largest competitor probably, Edwards Construction. He has been after her to learn some social skills for years, and she has decided you were the one that could give her some dance lessons. This would be 'only work' and most definitely not 'a date'."

So her family owned Edwards Construction. They were the big boys in town had won every big construction project worth mentioning in the last twenty years. The odds were that they didn't even know the small company that I worked for even existed. Mattie wasn't just rich, she was so utterly filthy rich that she could probably buy her own third world country, if she wanted… and their surrounding neighbors as well.

I felt so insulted, that I really didn't know what to do other than laugh. The thought of just saying "No, and Hell No!" did occur to me, but I decided that if she was going to be rude to me, then I could certainly at this point return the favor.

"Fine", I replied, "if she wants a teacher and this is 'just a job', then I should be paid for my time. Since she is so rich that money apparently has little if any meaning for her, my rates as a dance instructor shall be $1000 per hour, for a minimum of two hours every Tuesday and Thursday night beginning at 7 p.m. If she is late even by just a minute, it's another $1000 extra as a penalty, and if she cancels an appointment for any reason whatsoever, that's another $5000. These terms are frankly utterly outrageous, and if I were her I'd reject them! If on the other hand Madelyne could manage to 'act like a lady' for an entire evening without acting rich and spoilted, I could be willing to consider our time spent together 'as a date', and there would be no charge whatsoever for my time."

There! I thought. There was no way she would accept those conditions, and Ramona certainly seemed shocked.

"Sorry Ramona, but I don't owe her, or even you for that matter any favors or any debt of honor or even friendship, and frankly I have no pressing need, wish or desire to spend a moment of my valuable time with her, and undoubtedly listen to any more of her rudeness. This tuition cost, would probably just barely cover the extensive psychological counseling that I would require after spending the next few months with her. No debate, no discussion, no negotiation. It's my way or the highway. Take it or leave it! And remind her that the telephone book is full of professional dance instruction schools, so that when her rudeness gets her thrown out of the first school, there are still a dozen or so more she can run to for backup!"

Still a bit in shock, Ramona then finished her drink and left, offering me a small peck on the cheek on her way out. I finished my drink and sincerely hoped that I had heard the very last of Madelyn Edwards, but it was not to be.

**********

Ramona phoned me the next Monday morning and told me that Maddie had accepted my financial terms and would be waiting for me to pick her up the following night for her first class. A few hours later a courier brought a check from her that covered the first two weeks.