It started innocently -- at least relatively so -- with a tweet.
Brian's crush on Patricia Tischman began his first morning in Pittsburgh. Patti, the now 41-year-old traffic anchor on a local network affiliate, caught his attention and fired his imagination with her sparkling brown eyes, pixie-cut brunette hair that reminded him of Audrey Hepburn in the movie "Sabrina" -- which contrasted with creamy skin featuring a collection of light freckles across the bridge of her nose -- and penchant for wearing short, tight dresses, and either ankle- or calf-high boots.
He'd followed her on Twitter, and she followed back the same day. Over the six years he'd lived in The 'Burgh, they'd traded occasional tweets.
One bleak January afternoon, caught in traffic, Brian mentioned her in a post about a disabled vehicle -- identifying it as a red mini-van. 20 infuriating minutes later, he could see the vehicle in question was actually an SUV, more maroon than red. And, though he knew the distinction made little difference to the people backed-up behind it, he notified Patti of his mistake, defending himself by explaining that he'd been a quarter of a mile away, in heavy snow, and the vehicle's hood was up when he first tweeted. His penance, he assured her -- thinking it might bring a smile to her face -- would be having himself soundly whipped with a wet noodle.
Two days later, he received a Direct Message from Patti. She joked that he would probably enjoy the punishment. He laughed loudly, thinking she was teasing him, then replied that he was not into whipping, but did enjoy spanking -- though he was the spanker, not the spankee. He added a winky face emoji. Not quite an hour passed before she responded.
"I've never been spanked," she announced. "I mean, not in that way."
Taken aback -- not that she'd never been spanked, but that she would divulge it in this manner -- he took time to digest this information. He contemplated his reply, opting, finally, to play it safe.
"Can't you get your husband to do it?" he asked.
"No," she answered, quickly. "He doesn't know I have a freaky side."
"Freaky?" he questioned.
"Well, adventurous," she clarified. "I'd like to try being spanked... maybe more."
"Like what?" he prodded.
"Getting rough," she confessed. "Being taken."
"I would be happy to help you," he offered, his lust getting the better of him.
"LOL. I bet you would," she taunted.
He let it lie; not pushing the issue -- though he wanted to -- knowing that if she were serious, she'd bring it up again. It took a week.
"Would you really?" she messaged.
"What?" he answered, knowing exactly what she meant, but wanting to make her say it.
"Spank me," she returned.
"Absolutely," he affirmed.
"Can I tell you something?" she asked.
"Anything," he said.
"In the shower this morning, I masturbated while thinking about it," she told him.
He nearly spit Coca-Cola all over his monitor.
"Thinking about me spanking you," he inquired after composing himself. "Or, just being spanked in general?"
"You," she divulged.
For a few moments, he stared at the screen.
"Did you cum hard?" he asked, finally.
"Oh, God; yes," she told him. "I was shaking so much I almost fell."
"I wish I could have seen that," he admitted.
"Me, too," she said.
"Could you send me a picture of what I'd be spanking?" he asked. "Please."
"Don't you see it on TV every morning?" she countered.
"Not really," he said. "You never turn far enough for me to get a good look at it. Plus, it's covered by your clothes."
"Maybe, when I know you better," she deferred. "I have to be very careful."
"I understand," he said.
"Do you think my ass is spank-able though?" she wondered.
"Yes," he pronounced. "Very much so."
"Perhaps, someday soon, we can find out," she broached.
"I'm ready whenever you are," he agreed.
For the next three weeks, they messaged each other, flirting back and forth. Brian began to suspect she simply enjoyed the titillation of even considering this action. While he, too, took pleasure in talking about it, and using it as masturbatory fodder, he yearned for more, though he resisted the urge to press her. Knowing her situation, he realized he would simply have to settle for whatever she could give.
He'd all but given up hope of actually meeting Patti, when she revealed that her family would soon be taking a trip out of town without her. Work required her to remain for her morning broadcasts, but would leave her free of responsibilities in the afternoon. They made plans to meet.
After preparing his house, Brian showered and dressed -- shorts and a t-shirt -- then sat in the living room, and watched out the windows... waiting. Within a minute of their scheduled rendezvous, a large pickup truck slowly pulled up in front of the house, then turned in the wide driveway. Brian went to the back door.
A figure, obviously female, clad in gray sweatpants and sweatshirt -- with the hood pulled up to conceal their identity -- emerged from the vehicle, and approached him. She carried a small purple backpack. He swung open the door, and his guest bounded past him, into the kitchen. As he turned, Patti pulled back the hood to unmask herself. She wore black sunglasses, which she removed.
"I didn't want anyone to see me," she shrugged.
"You're more beautiful in-person than you are on TV," Brian complimented.
Patti stepped closer and hugged him. His heavy, 6'3" frame dwarfed her petite, 5'7" build, and she all but disappeared from sight as he wrapped his arms around her.
"It's nice to finally meet you in person," he raved, squeezing her.
He breathed in the scent of her -- her hair, her perfume, her body.
"Would you like a drink?" he asked, releasing her.
"No, thank you," she said. "I had one before I came over... for courage."
"You're sure you want this?" he inquired.
"I do," she acknowledged. "I'm just a little scared. I've never done something like this... I mean, I've never done anything with another man -- my husband and I were high school sweethearts. And, when I walked in the door, this all became real. On-line, it was just talk and fantasy. No one could get hurt."
"We don't have to..." Brian began, intending to provide her an easy excuse to leave if she wanted.
"No," she interrupted. "I've been thinking about this for so long. And, if I don't do it, I think my head will explode."
Brian couldn't help but chuckle.
"We have to be very discreet though," she insisted. "Nobody can find out."
"I'll never tell a soul," he said. "I swear."
"We'll just be 'fuck buddies,'" she offered.
"Say that again," he said.
"What? Fuck buddies?" she repeated.
He moved closer to her, raising his right hand to the side of her face.
"It's so hot when you curse?" he said.
"Why?" she asked.
