Georgia – Also Known as Heaven Chapter 2
The evening brought heaven--heaven in Georgia. Sure enough, during the soup course at the evening meal, Kiefer rose and excused himself, saying he'd forgotten to make a very important phone call and that he'd return very shortly. On his way back to his seat, presumably after making a call, he managed to lean over a cousin, seated next to me, and delivered a folded sheet of paper to my lap. I felt silly. Good silly. Like a junior high school girl getting notes passed to her in homeroom.
When prudent, I placed my hand into my lap, grasped the edge of the paper and managed to flip it open with my thumb. I read "the plan." It went like this: after dessert, refuse coffee. If asked, say you're full and you need a stroll. You don't have to say it loudly, just let those around you know. Exit the dining room and go through the foyer to the grand staircase. Go up the staircase to the second floor and enter the first bathroom on the left. More instructions will be inside the upper left-hand drawer in the vanity.
I smiled. He was playing a game. No need for all of these instructions, but it was going to be fun to follow them through, I was sure. The meal, though superb, seemed endless. I'd never known it to take so long until the dessert course. Dutifully, after finishing most of the luscious pear flambé, I excused myself to my neighboring diners and headed for the second-floor bathroom. I admit to a thrill in playing this little game. My hand trembled a bit as I reached for the drawer-pull and gently slid open the drawer. As my eyes lit on the folded paper within, I suddenly felt very silly. Good lord, Jossey. You're an idiot. Stop behaving like a teenager. You're an adult.
My admonition to myself was not very effective. I excitedly reached for and opened the note. It provided the following instructions: make your way back downstairs to the kitchen. Ask for Del. Tell him that you're there to pick up the package. When you have the package in your possession, exit the kitchen via the poolside French doors and make your way to the stairs leading to the dunes. You will find a rock on the ground at the bottom of these stairs and under it will be more instructions.
I giggled. Smooth outloud. Then I laughed. This was fun. I tried to imagine Kiefer writing out these notes and giving "Del" a package. It was too funny. I made my way downstairs to the kitchen and asked for Del, half expecting everyone in the kitchen, and there were at least seven people in there, either to laugh at me or regale me with looks of derision. Neither happened. The young lady of whom I'd asked the question simply pointed to a young man across the room. I advanced, asked if he were Del, received an affirmative response, and queried him about a package. Oh, yes, he replied. I have it for you. He retrieved a square package, about sixteen inches by sixteen inches and half that deep, and handed it to me. It was wrapped in beautiful burgundy damask and was slightly heavy.
I thanked the young man and headed to the doors leading to the pool. I couldn't wait for the next set of instructions and nearly flew down the stairs leading to the dunes. As I stood on the bottom rung of the staircase, I bent over to set down the box and remove my shoes. Dropping them to the side of the stairs, I looked for my next set of instructions. Sure enough, to my right was a rather obtrusive rock and underneath it yet another folded note. I laughed when I read the first line which was set off from the remainder of the note: do you feel sneaky yet?
The remaining instructions called for me to travel straight from the staircase to within fifteen feet of the shoreline and make a left. I was then to travel along the beach until I reached a large black bag which I was to open carefully. I followed the instructions and spotted the bag long before I reached it. The long summer days provided light until a bit after nine in the evening, and the near-full moon would continue to bathe the dunes in soft yet bright moonlight. I made myself approach the bag unhurriedly and took my time placing the package on the sand before opening the bag, just in case Kiefer were watching and found me too eager.
My fingers stumbled over the plastic tie. The bag was, as I'd recognized when getting nearer, a large lawn and leaf bag. The tie undone, I started pulling the top of the bag open and suddenly Kiefer stood up from what must have been a kneeling position and poked his arms and head through the opening. I jumped back, scared and laughing at once. As I tumbled back and down, I flailed my arms trying to catch myself. My palms hit the sand and my bottom, barely grazing the sand, shot forward. The short black spandex-enhanced dress worked its way up to near my waist in the back as I slid across the grainy surface. I was a bit put out that my backside was now covered in sand and hurting a bit from the scraping. Kiefer, however, was enjoying the sight immensely, even though from the front only, his body heaving in laughter as he extricated himself fully from the bag.
"You creep," I screamed. "Now I have sand all over my backside and my hands."
"Well, let me help you brush it off," Kiefer managed to spit out in the midst of his laughing fit as he reached down with his right hand, took my outstretched left one, and helped me to a standing position as I reached behind and tugged the back of my dress down with my free hand.
I was quite sure the dress looked a mess in the places where I'd made contact with the sand. As Kiefer's right hand continued to steady my forearm, his left went to my backside where he began vigorously to brush me off. I was giggling and moved my free arm and hand behind me to assist in the cleaning.
"Oh, give it up," I finally got out in a breathless voice. I was weak from laughing and from Kiefer's touch. I was in danger of dropping to the sand again, so I reached my hand back around and took hold of Kiefer's shoulder to steady myself. His laughter was subsiding, too, and he stopped trying to get the sand off my dress.
"I'll get you a new one. It was my fault."
"Oh, goodness. It's just sand. I'll eventually get it out."
Kiefer gave a muffled laugh. I could see the grin on his face in the dusky light.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothin'," he returned.
"Then why are you laughing?"
"I was wondering how you were gonna get the sand out of your undies! I know your dress slipped up when you went down. I saw it!" He continued to snicker.
"Oh, you wanna know that, do you? I got news for you, buddy. I don't wear underwear. The sand is on my flesh, not a pair of panties!"
The light from the setting sun was still bright enough to allow me a decent view of Kiefer's expressive face. Upon delivering the knowledge that I wore no panties, Kiefer became very still, but his face underwent some amazing changes. At first, his eyes widened and his mouth went slack, slightly opened. Then his eyes narrowed, his lips clamped together, and he uttered a soft, guttural noise. Following this, Kiefer's face became very animated. Through a smile, he asked the following.
"No shit? No underwear? Can I see?"
How impertinent, I thought.
"Of course you can't see! You are the reason I'm covered in sand and you don't deserve to see. In fact, you deserve a spanking, young man! And don't think I won't deliver it if you continue to irritate me!"
Oh. The face went through another series of changes.
The eyes became slits of intensity. The nostrils flared. The lips tightened together, then he bit the lower one. He stared at me in a way that sent chills all over my body. Surely I was visibly shuddering.
Kiefer blinked. Blinked again. Then his chin went up and the eyes returned to their normal size. An evil smile replaced the clinched lips.
"Spank me, huh?" he growled. "You think you're big enough to do that?"
The stare, the evil smile, the growl . . . I was surprised at my own quick response, wondering how I'd found voice.
"Oh, yes. I'm big enough all right." We were about eighteen inches to two feet apart. I leaned my upper body toward him and continued.
"And I assure you that it'll be a spanking you won't soon forget!" God, had I actually said it? Jeez. As I was speaking, I was imagining myself bringing my eager palm down on one of his what I envisioned as firm butt cheeks, feeling him squirm beneath the hand, hearing him moan with desire. Oh. I knew I'd drawn an audible breath. I don't know if Kiefer heard it. His breathing had become audible as well.
I glanced away quickly, then back. "Sorry," I said softly. I got a little more carried away than I intended."
Kiefer smiled, a flicker of mischief remained in his eyes.
To cover my discomfort, and I was uncomfortable . . . pleasantly, of course . . . I swallowed and asked about the package.
"Ah. The package. Yes." Kiefer turned to the now empty black bag, seeking the package on the sand. He walked over, picked it up, and sat on the bag, motioning with his hand for me to follow. I did. Reluctantly. My inner thighs, I noticed, had become more than damp. In fact, some infernal internal faucet had turned on and was running rampant.
The package perched on Kiefer's outstretched legs.
"Wanna open it?" he asked.
"No, you open it," I replied.
He carefully removed the cloth from the box, but turned slightly to place the now uncovered box on my lap as he thrust aside the damask and instructed me to remove the top. I did. Inside nestled in tulle was a bottle of wine, a corkscrew, and two lovely wine glasses festooned with what seemed miles of thin satin ribbon. It was very elegant. I sighed with pleasure.
"You like?" Kiefer inquired.
"Very much. It's lovely. Just lovely. Thanks for thinking of this." I paused briefly, but continued. "I loved the game, too. It was fun." I looked at him and smiled my appreciation.
"Yeah. It was fun. Shall I open the wine?"
