Brendas Story Ch 01

It was getting towards the end of the evening at The Crown. In fact last orders had already been called and we were contemplating having one more drink before heading home. We were sitting at a table in the corner, our usual spot. It was Friday night. We always met up on Friday nights for a drink together, the four of us. As was usual this time of the evening, the men had managed to manoeuvre the conversation round to their pet subject.

"I'm only saying," said James, "that for some couples, it's an integral part of their relationship."

"Hmm, funny relationship... wanting to be spanked," his wife, Lisa said.

"Everybody's different, babe," he said to Lisa, who was sitting next to him and opposite me. "Just because it doesn't appeal to you, doesn't mean that others don't like it... or that it's wrong!"

"Didn't say it was, clever-dick! And I'm not so naive to think that everybody thinks the same as I do. I'm just saying - before you get any funny ideas into your head - that it's not for me."

"Hard luck, mate," said Brian, my husband, who was sitting next to me, grinning like a Cheshire cat into his pint. And then, looking at me: "And what about you, Bren... any thoughts?"

"Not really."

"Nah, course not." He looked across the table at Lisa and James and winked. "Brenda even thinks the missionary position's a bit kinky!"

I kicked his ankle. "Shut up!" Anyway, you should talk, mister."

"Me?"

"Yes, you!"

I felt myself blushing, or perhaps I was just aglow with too many Bacardi Breezers. I was never comfortable with this kind of ribald banter, even after a few drinks, and I hated jokes at my expense.

But, oh yes, I had thoughts all right... I just didn't have the nerve to talk about them like some people. It was kind of... not taboo exactly, just difficult to come to terms with and open up about, that sort of thing. Anyway, I'd hate it if anyone thought of me as a pervert, or even a bit kinky.

But I had occasionally wondered what it would be like to be spanked, as part of a sex game or something, or perhaps even do it to somebody else. I'd read about it in a woman's magazine once and it got me thinking. At first I thought, crumbs, that's a bit weird. Why would anyone want to be spanked? But I found the thought of being spanked kind of provocative, if you know what I mean, but in a nice way. It made me think about it maybe a bit more than I should. And then I heard myself saying...

"Why would anyone want to do that sort of thing anyway?"

"Why do people do anything?" Brian said, looking at me, kind of accusingly. "How long's a piece of string? Why did the chicken cross the road? And by the way, Bren... you've gone all red."

"Leave her alone, bully," said Lisa, winking at me.

"Thanks, hun." I said. Lisa always stuck up for me when I was being picked on. She was a good mate as well as a lifelong friend.

"We're all different," said James. "It's what makes the world go round."

"Well, I certainly couldn't imagine doing it to Brian, the big lump" I said, getting into the spirit. "He'd kill me for sure if ever he got across my lap."

"Oh, cheers!" said Brian, making a face. "Anyway, I thought it was meant to be us blokes what did the spanking."

"Not always, Brian," said James. "Women like to do it to."

"Oh really," said Lisa, sarcastically.

"Trust me," said James, tapping the side of his nose. "Some women love it!"

"How would you know, you daft sod?" Lisa gave her husband the look that said: Is there something I'm missing here? Brian and I laughed quickly to relieve the sudden tension between Lisa and James at that moment. Fortunately it worked.

Spanking, as a sexual fetish, had never been in our repertoire of bedroom games - me and Brian that is - even in the early days when we were slim, more physically attractive and active. In fact, now I thought about it... Brian and I never had a repertoire... or played games for that matter, well, not the bedroom kind. That sort of thing just never occurred to us.

I supposed all relationships got a bit stale after a while and that's why people sometimes indulged in things like spankings and dressing up... to kind of spice things up, a break from routine. With us, it was just normal loving sex (most of the time) - or was – and only after the light had been switched off.

Yet it was a fact that I indulged in the occasional fantasy. But afterwards I'd always kind of feel guilty about it. I suppose, if I'm honest, I would like to have been a naughty girl sometimes (girl..? - that's a laugh, I was 39 next month), do something outrageous and daring. I just didn't have the nerve. It always seemed to be other people who were able to have naughty sex, and do it with a light heart too. At least, that was the impression I got from certain people at work.

I wasn't unhappy exactly. I loved my Brian, even though sometimes he irritated the life out of me. And we were blessed with three lovely teenage boys who were good kids on the whole. We thought the world of them. But, as I said, it would've been nice to do something a bit more off-the-wall occasionally.

I didn't want to admit to any of this in front of Lisa and James, of course. They were our best and oldest friends, but I couldn't open up about that sort of thing. They'd never let me live it down. To be perfectly honest, I couldn't even bear the thought of discussing it with Brian. I suppose I'd always wanted him to think of me as being pure and innocent, the girl he married, and not someone who had unsavoury thoughts. And I supposed we were just too staid and set in our ways now anyway. The time for all that had somehow just passed us by. And also I think it's possible that a person is just too close to their partner to be able to admit to certain things for fear of ridicule, of what they might think. "Ooh, what's got into you? You've never mentioned that before? You're not getting kinky in your old age, are you?" Like as if you've suddenly become a rampant pervert or something overnight after years of virtual abstinence.

Anyway, to actually plan something like a spanking session in the cold light of day (or night), would surely take the edge off the main event when it came to it... wouldn't it? Especially with the children to work round. That made it virtually impossible to indulge in anything remotely connected with sex, let alone spanking, what with them coming and going all hours.

I've always thought fantasies were delicate things, like bubbles blown from a child's wand. If you just watch and enjoy them for what they are - rainbow coloured dreams floating on the air, sustained for a moment in time by your hope and belief - you are rewarded with a sense of well-being and happiness. If you reach out to grab one and touch it... pop! No more bubble... and no more dream! A fantasy is something best kept to your own private moments, not bandied about to be tarnished and cheapened. Well, there you go, that's me getting all philosophical, silly old girl.

Putting into practice what you think about in your head isn't always a good thing. To be honest, although I was curious about spanking and the thought of being hauled up over the knee of some roguish but good-looking stranger kind of excited me in fantasy, in reality sensibility would inevitably kick in and cool my ardour, especially if I imagined seeing myself in that situation and thinking how ridiculous I looked. Imagine it... a mature woman way past her sell-by date with flabby bits and bum dimples lying in an undignified position across somebody's knee wasn't a particularly fetching image, let alone an erotic one... at least it wasn't to my mind. In fact, the more I did think about it, the more absurd it all seemed. There's nothing quite like reality for spoiling one's fun. And you only have to imagine your own children catching you 'at it' to pour on the cold water.

"Well?" said James. "Anymore for anymore before they close the bar?"

We all agreed to a last drink, even though I knew I'd personally had enough. But it had been a good night on the whole and I didn't want to be a killjoy at the last knockings.

When Brian and James had gone to the bar to get the round, Lisa smiled at me and then laughed. "Men! What are they like? Always thinking with their balls."

We'd been friends since schooldays, over 30 years in fact, and I still loved the way her eyes creased up when she smiled. Some things never changed.

"Don't they ever talk about anything else?" I said.

"Football." she said, laughing again. "And fishing... Oh, that's a point. Look, Bren..." she paused, thinking for a moment. "As the lads are going off fishing this weekend, why don't you stay over with me on Saturday night? The kids are away, and yours are old enough to leave for a night. We can get a takeaway in, have a bottle of wine... we could rent a DVD or something?"

"Oh, I don't know, Lisa. I've a few things to catch up on."

"Like what, for God's sake? Switch off for once and loosen up, Bren! Come on, it'll be fun. I fancy some company this weekend. We can have a right laugh with the men not around. We can reminisce about old times."

I still wasn't sure, I had been planning to pop over to see Mum, take her shopping, and she always looked forward to me coming round for a couple of hours.

"Hey, Bren..." Lisa was patting the back of my hand now and her speech was slurring. "Remember how we used to fool around when we were younger - when we were still at school? I don't mean like in school. But after, when we were supposed to be doing homework, in your bedroom."

"You mean, like when we used to kind of 'wrestle' each other?"

"Yeah... only it was more like hump each other!"

"We used to call it wrestling, though," I said, smiling fondly at the memory.

"Yeah, I know. I think we both realised it wasn't really wrestling though."

"Yeah, it was just a name to stop us feeling guilty."

"How sweetly naïve we were then."

I wanted to say, "Or maybe we weren't naïve at all," but I didn't.

Lisa drank the remains of her gin and tonic, took the slice of lemon out, and started chewing on it. "It was just messing about." She spat the pips back into the glass.

"Hmm, I guess it was," I said. "Although, I still think about it sometimes..."

"Do you? About what? About the messing about, or just being young and carefree?"

"Both, if I'm honest."

"You sound all wistful."

"It's just time, isn't it? The years and that - the way it all goes so quick - all those things we did so long ago."

"We had dreams then - most of them unfulfilled."

"Oh, I don't know," I said, thinking about how our lives had turned out. "We both got married, didn't we? We always used to talk about getting married and buying our own house. That was something we both wanted, and to have children, have a family and a home. We've managed that at least."

"And we're still married, come to that, to the same person. Well, not the same person, but you know what I mean. I suppose that's something these days."

"It certainly is. But I sometimes wonder if that's all life amounts to?"

"Isn't that enough?"

"Yeah, sometimes. But you must know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I suppose I do, if I'm honest." Lisa twirled her empty glass around between her fingers, thinking. "Do you remember when we tried kissing each other, just to practise our technique for when we went out with boys?"

"God, don't remind me," I said.

"And how we both kind of recoiled the first time we used our tongues."

"Don't go there."

"You said, "Let's try French-kissing."

"Did I?"

"You did."

"God, how embarrassing is that?"

"I thought it was quite nice actually, once we got over the shock of what tongues against tongues felt like."

"Hmm..." I looked away from her eyes, suddenly embarrassed.

Through the window I could see the occasional car splashing down the street, headlights illuminating the cascades of raindrops that were now falling. It was a humid summer night. The air needed freshening, the rain was welcome in a way, a kind of respite from the sudden tension I felt inside me. I had that strange sensation again, a bit like when I read the story about spanking in my magazine. A sense of curiosity.

"I enjoyed it too... much more than I should admit actually." I looked back at her. Her smile had faded into something wistful and reflective, as if something had chimed inside, as if in a moment of regret at something missed, lost, possibly irretrievable, something unfulfilled.

I felt it necessary to fill the sudden void between us: "I didn't see anything wrong at the time. We were just larking about. That's all it was."

"Are you sure that's all it was?" said Lisa, still with that look on her face.

"Oops! Look out," I said, breaking the spell – or was it bursting the bubble? "James and Brian are on their way back with the drinks."

What was it about men? Their timing was always so damned inconvenient.

(...continued in Part Two...)