Mandy Inside Paradise

This is a prequel to the stories about Miranda Grossman, e.g.,

Mandy's Cemetery Adventure

and

Mandy Goes To Confession.

This was originally submitted elsewhere more than two years ago, but I heavily revised it. It's about how Paul D'Amato met Miranda, although their names don't appear in this segment. This is taking place nearly three years after the My Summer with Nora series ends in 1974.

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In August 1977, I had been out of college for a few weeks. Just to have something to do and get a bit of money as I considered my future, I took a job as an usher at the Loew's Paradise Theater on the Grand Concourse.

It was still an imposing old Bronx institution, and the interior had been done in what I've heard called a Venetian or an Italian Baroque style. Whatever it was, it was impressive. However, the former 4,000-seat venue from 1929 had been split into a triplex, with the upstairs balcony being sealed off with its own screen. The former main floor was divided into two units, and I was assigned to handle both of those.

There wasn't much to do except be present and keep an eye on things. Between showings, I took a broom and dustpan and swept out the floors as best I could. Fortunately, the time of the showings were staggered, so I could do one room and then have an hour before getting to the other one.

I got to see movies as they were released, but then I had to see them over and over again. I tried to block them out, but I could only partially do that. I had never seen a movie as often as the ones that played there. After a few days, I knew every bit of dialogue, every little plot point, and exactly where those were within the film.

At the theater job, the only dress requirement was that I wear a sports coat -- I only had one -- and a tie. I had a flashlight that I could clip onto my belt, and that was about it.

One weekday afternoon I was leaning on a wall halfway down a room, trying not to watch

Kentucky Fried Movie.

A lot of it reached my consciousness anyway. Whatever had once been funny about the film was long gone. About the only parts I still noticed were the bare tits in "Catholic High School Girls in Trouble" and the segment at the end where a couple had cowgirl-style sex in front of their TV.

The wall was one of the ornate 1929 originals. The opposite one had been built very recently, and it was not decorated at all.

Sex was on my mind because I hadn't had any in about seven weeks. There had been a much longer dry spell the previous year, but the new one was somehow bothering me more.

In June, my girlfriend Donna Azzato had broken up with me. The reasons for that were mostly my own fault, but that's a story for another time. As for the other four ladies I had lost, maybe they had become bored but mostly they had found older, more successful guys with better prospects than I offered.

It was irksome because I could never see the breakups coming. Everything would be going along fine, and then they would just disappear. I had to go looking for them, and then I would get some vague explanation about how it was "time to move on." One of them, my first, was AWOL for two weeks. Then I saw her getting out of a car on campus, a Triumph Stag convertible that was being driven by her new boyfriend.

So I was pondering my life on that day and I was also trying to ignore the John Landis movie on the screen. I was suddenly aware of someone, a woman, singing somewhere in the theater. It was in the back of the auditorium, so I headed there to investigate.

In the very last row, about three seats in, a young woman was sitting there doing a Judy Collins song. She was moderately loud, I'd say, and she was into the second verse already. That was the one about how, "I really don't know love at all."

I leaned in and said, "Miss, this is a movie theater. Please don't sing in here."

She was immediately argumentative about it, "But take a look; there are only about five people in here, and they're all down in the front."

"I know, but I was about halfway down and I could clearly hear you."

She put on a frown. From the start I got the feeling that she was putting on an act, being tongue-in-cheek with me. "You really have a stick up your ass about this."

"It's my job, among other things, to make sure the other patrons aren't disturbed."

There was enough light from the screen for me to make a quick assessment of her. She was young, about my age, and she looked good. Her face was a bit round and on the wide side. Her dark-blonde hair was short by the standards of that era, coming down just beneath her chin. She had cut it so that there were bangs over her forehead

Yeah, she really is cute.

In my summer loneliness, I thought,

I'd really like someone like her for myself.

"Maybe it's that you don't like the song. Joni Mitchell actually wrote it, you know."

"I do know that. Now, please, be quiet."

She gave an overly-dramatic shrug, and I left to patrol the area behind the last row. I had been gone less than twenty seconds when I heard her again. This time she was singing T-Rex's "Bang a Gong."

It seemed that this song was aimed at me, or rather it was about how I might be perceiving her. For a second I considered ignoring her, and then I decided that she was deliberately bugging me. I couldn't let this challenge to my meager authority go unanswered.

I went back to her row, and she gave me a big smile. It seemed genuine, and it disarmed me for a moment. I was aware again of how pretty she was and I'm sure she knew the impact she was having on me.

She said, "So you don't like T-Rex either."

"It's not the song, it's the fact that you are singing in here at all."

"But it's true, I am dirty and sweet, but I'm definitely not your girl yet."

The word "yet" didn't consciously register with me, but I still thought,

is this chick flirting with me, or is she just teasing me because she can get away with it?

I took another look at her, and this time I checked out her clothes. She had an orange short-sleeved shirt that was open to reveal a black halter top underneath. I couldn't see it clearly, but she also had a black skirt. She wasn't a petite, dainty girl; she had a nice solidity to her body. And she was smiling at me again.

I also was getting the feeling that she was a bit high, maybe more than a bit, on something. It didn't seem to be alcohol or pot, the only substances that I was familiar with myself. She gave the impression of being very lucid and energetic, yet more than a touch manic.

Even though I was losing this encounter, I didn't know what to do about it. I repeated myself, "With all due respect miss, you have to be quiet in here."

She wagged her head and pouted at me, "And with all due respect, there's nothing you can do about it. And stop calling me miss; your politeness is really fake." Before I could respond she said, "Do you like the Rolling Stones? You know what's a great song?"

I knew I was going to hear part of it, and it turned out to be "Paint it Black." After singing some of it, she laughed, "That's us again. I'm the girl in the summer clothes and you're the one waiting until your darkness goes."

It had to be an illusion, but I had the feeling that she was reading my mind. It had been just a few weeks since my girlfriend Donna had broken up with me. That had been so recent that I was still mourning the loss.

Rather stupidly, I said something that played right into her hands. "What does any of that have to do with me?"

"You know, 'with flowers and my love, both never to come back.' "

I tried a different tack. "Are you high on something?"

"Oh yeah, I've had a little something to perk me up today."

Instead of giving my attention to the problem at hand, I glanced up at the screen to have a moment to think. The film was in the middle of the long martial arts parody, a movie within the movie called

A Fistful of Yen.

The Chinese warlord, or whatever he was, was saying, "take him to Detroit." It was my favorite line in the whole production.

Then my difficult patron sang again, "Oh, I miss you Amoreena, like the king bee misses honey."

All of my experiences had taught me not to get rattled by a woman, but it was happening anyway. And she seemed to intuitively understand how to do it to me. "Shouldn't you be doing your job ushering? I mean, you have that big flashlight hanging off your belt."

"I am doing my job, which is dealing with you." That was a mistake, to respond directly to such a question.

"Yeah, so that's why you're standing there gawking at me. If I was a guy, you wouldn't be doing that."

Just go, get away from her, you can't change the situation.

But no, I tried to turn things against her. I said, "You're like the Sirens in the Odyssey leading the sailors into the rocks."

"Wow, you're really a smart guy, referring to Greek mythology. So what rocks do you think I'm leading you into?"

I had no answer. It angered me that she was not just scoffing at my requests, but she was also taunting me with her sexual power. She emphasized the latter by putting her left arm over the seat back and then putting her left foot on the seat next to her. For the first time, I saw that her footgear was white sneakers with white ankle socks.

"Oops, I have to pull my skirt down. Got to be modest, you know." She saw me looking at her. "You are a very dirty-minded boy, trying to get a glimpse of my panties. I'm going to report your rude behavior to the theater manager."

"Good luck in finding him." He seemed to be absent for most of the day. Then I said, "It would help if you didn't flash yourself like that at me."

Oh man, that was so weak.

I was just about to leave and cut my losses. I said, "Look, I've had enough of this. If you want me to go, then I will."

"No, don't go. I've been such a bad girl, and I'd be surprised if you didn't know how to handle such girls."

I deliberately evaded her statement, "Well, I'm not going to call the police, that's for sure."

"Of course not. If you call the Ryer Avenue precinct over there, they'd just laugh at you."

Yeah, the same as you've been laughing at me.

"Now come on, what have you done in the past to get naughty girls into line? I'm sure you've had some experience with the issue."

I could feel my face warming up and my fingers were twitching; my crotch was tingling. "Since you seem to know everything, why don't you tell me?"

"The way I see it, it would be wrong to smack a woman in the face. But you can give certainly give her a hard whacking on her sassy behind."

Oh, I so wanted to do that. It was reckless and dumb, but she was so deserving of it. "You can't be serious."

"But I am, I deserve a really good spanking for what I've done. But where would we go?"

I knew the answer. As evenly as I could I said, "There's a room out there, behind this one -- a spare office. We can go back there."

"So you do have a plan. Except, I don't think you have the nerve to follow through on it."

"You would be surprised at what I can do."

She replied, "You mean a real bare-bottom, panties down around the knees kind of spanking?" It must have been unconscious, but she gave herself away by briefly licking her lips.

"I was thinking more like down around your ankles."

"Oh, you're a real pervert I see."

Quietly I said, "I think it's you that doesn't have the nerve."

"I've got it if you do."

I still wasn't sure if this was just an elaborate tease, but the decision point had been reached and I went for it. I walked into the row and said, "Come with me." I put my right hand out and she took it; for the first time, I felt the warmth of her flesh. And damn if she didn't get up as I tugged her arm. I guided her out of the auditorium.

The little room in the back was rather shabby, but it had a door that could be locked from the inside. The interior contained a desk, a sofa, and a couple of chairs. I had no idea when it had been last used, or for what. Everything seemed left over from the 1940's, at least.

Rather than turn on the overhead light, I flipped on a table lamp on the desk. We faced each other with a distance of about two feet between us. I could see now that she was pretty tall, about five-foot-eight.

She was looking steadily at me, not smiling, but beyond that, I couldn't interpret her expression. She suddenly said, "I left my popcorn back at my seat."

"You can get it later, or I'll buy you a new one if necessary."

Then I pondered what to do next. I had played spanking games with girls before, but never with one I had just met. Although, some of them were switches and they could give out as good as they took -- on me, of course. That's when I found out that I was doubly kinky myself. It was only fair, I suppose.

Am I really doing to do this to her?

I said, "We need a safe word you know."

"So you are knowledgeable about this. What do you usually use?"

"Tuna salad is a good one."

"Hah, I like that. Very clever."

I figured I needed to play that game properly by chiding her before I got started. I knew about the ritualistic quality of these events.

"You have indeed been a very bad girl. You have been completely inconsiderate of the other patrons and also of me." That sounded a bit ridiculous even though I was repeating my previous complaints. "Thus I'm going to take you over my knees and give you a sound spanking on your bare behind."

I figured from her expression that she wanted it. Well, I supposed I'd find out for sure in a moment if I tried it. She said, "I get it, I need to be disciplined for the way I've behaved." She seemed to have lost the defiance she had back in the theater and she sounded contrite.

I sat down in a chair, and said, "Then, get over my lap." She came over and did just that, with her toes touching the floor and her arms dangling in front. I could feel her weight pressing down on me, and it always felt good when I had a girl over me like that. Of course, I had a huge erection that she had to feel through my pants. Well, she couldn't have been surprised at that.

"So let's see what we have here." I lifted her skirt up and back and saw that she had on a cute but ample pair of black lacy panties. I pulled those down to her ankles as I said I would, and I heard her quietly say, "Oh, my."

She had tan lines from a bathing suit across her behind. It hadn't been from a bikini but from a more generous two-piece outfit. Everything about that rear view of her seemed great to me. I liked everything about her, the roundness of her ass, the shape of her thighs, the warm glow of her skin. I was about to praise the beauty of her body, but some instinct stopped me.

She looked back at me, "Well, are you going to do it already?"

"I've got something else to do first." That entailed gently fondling her rear, starting with each cheek and going down the back of her thighs.

"That feels so nice."

"Maybe you'd just like to have some tuna salad right now."

"No, I can't stand that stuff."

"Okay, you asked for it."

I was still feeling resentful from the mouthy way she had treated me in the auditorium and I had no qualms about giving her two solid smacks on each side of her ass. Two pink handprints appeared where my spanks had landed on her behind.

"Ouch, those are pretty hard."

"They're all going to be like that. Sure you don't want that tuna salad?"

"Absolutely not, I won't eat that stuff. Give me your worst."

"My worst would probably be a paddle, but I don't have one."

She looked like a strong girl, and I was sure I wouldn't be able to hold her down if she wanted to get up. She made a lot of noise during the session, but she never tried to leave my lap.

I took my time, not rushing the rhythm I developed with my arm. She did make quite a fuss, moaning and groaning and banging her sneakers against the floor

Maybe I was angrier than I had realized, based on the things I said. "I have more important things to do than deal with thoughtless twats like you." Actually, I didn't have much to do on that job, but I wasn't going to tell her that.

"I know, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have acted that way."

Then too, she had sexually taunted me, and I referred to that obliquely, "You really bothered me that those song lyrics. I knew what you were trying to do."

"They were supposed to be a joke!"

"Well, I didn't find them funny."

I expected that she would just leave when that game was over.

All right, I'll keep her around for a bit longer and spank her some more.

She cried out, "Please, have mercy on my poor ass."

"You should have thought of that before."

At some point, my hand was getting numb. I noticed paler handprints I had left on her overall dark pinkness. She was gasping and her body was quivering. I had marked her from the bottom of her back to halfway down her thighs. It was time to end it.

First, I took a moment to rub her again and I felt how hot her flesh had become.

"God, I feel like I'm burning back there.

"Are you going to behave from now on?" That was so trite, but it was part of the fun of playing those ridiculous if predictable games.

"Yes, I'll be a good girl from now on, I promise." That was also trite and predictable.

"All right, then get up."

As I expected, she jumped to her feet and grabbed her own backside. I gave her a few moments to rub herself. As she tried to look down at herself, she said, "Man, did you have to hit me so hard?"

"Honey, you earned every bit of it. It's corner time now, but we're going to do it in a special way." There was an old couch right next to us and I pointed to it, "Bend over, put your hands on the cushions and get your ass up nice and high. I want to see what I've done to you."

She dutifully got into position, and her panties slid to the floor. She stepped out of them and left them where they had landed. I was feeling pretty rattled, and I had the urge to have a drink. Even a beer would have been good, but I knew there was no alcohol anywhere in the building.

A darker thought came to me.

This has been great, but my time with her is nearing the end.

But I was wrong about that.

As I sat there looking at her, she moved her legs rather far apart. She looked back at me. "Notice anything unusual?."

I saw that her cunt was wet; it was glistening with fluids from her pussy. I said, "You little minx, your pussy is soaked. You're turned on, aren't you?"

"Yes, I got turned on. And what of it? You knew it was going to happen, and you must have seen it with girls before." Then, "I'm also sure you know what to do about this too."

That was a big step. It was one thing to play games with a naughty customer. It was very different to have intercourse with her. I wondered how long I had been gone from the theater. Then I realized that it wouldn't matter much if I got fired.

As that expression goes,

I seen my opportunities and I took 'em.

I stood up and walked over to her. She immediately became upright and turned to face me.

"One thing, I don't want you banging against my aching ass. Sit on the couch and I'll straddle you, cowgirl style. That should be more comfortable for me." I could see how flushed her face was and I still noticed the manic effect the drug in her system was having on her.

"If that's what you want, then you're going to get that too." I guess guys will take any woman who offers herself. I sat down on the sofa and she knelt down to undo my pants. When those were open, my erect cock stood straight up.

"I did feel this when I was over your lap." She gently stoked my shaft from top to bottom.