The late fall sun was rapidly approaching the horizon on a clear Indian Summer afternoon, as two scared women, one more scared than the other-I being the other-, sped down Walnut Lane toward the home of Lawrence and Karen Padden.
"Oh shit! We are deep trouble." Karen wailed, as she took a yellow light a little too late and a little too fast.
"Well, don't kill us now," I said. "we're already too late. A few more minutes will not make any difference."
"I want be able to sit down for a week."
"What are you talking about?"
Karen blushed, gave me a quick look and turned back.
"I mean." She said slowly. "I will get my bare assed spanked when you two leave."
"You mean he'll hit you?" I was horrified.
"No...I mean... yes. I mean he will spank me. He doesn't hit me."
For a few moments I sat silently absorbing the information and composing a scene in my mind. Here, in the 21st century was a grown liberated woman who allowed a man to spank her like she was a little girl. Of course I was shocked and appalled. I wanted to scold her with a lecture as to how she must put her foot down, and end that nonsense now, but I didn't. I even opened my mouth to start my little homily, but no words came out. Somewhere deep inside there was sense of fascination with the whole idea of being spanked. There was even a quick thought that watching Karen get her punishment would be interesting, but I quickly dismissed the idea as being inappropriate.
"Let me make sure that I am getting this right." I finally spoke. "You are telling me that your husband punishes you like a little girl. How often does he do this?"
"Now Donna Hines! It is hard for me to believe that you have never heard of a husband spanking his wife. I happen to know of at least a couple of mutual friends who use discipline on a regular basis."
"That is exactly what I am telling you. I've never heard of that."
"I'll tell you about them later." She pulled into the driveway. "But right now it is MY ass I'm worried about."
Inside were two angry men; my husband, Phillip Hines and his good friend Lawrence Padden. They were missing the Falcons/Panthers game; a game for which they had paid dearly for great seats. They were missing the game because they did not have the tickets. They did not have the tickets because Karen and I had them, but it was an accident...honest.
The house was filled with an eerie silence as we walked into the kitchen from the garage, but the calm was short lived.
"We're in here!" called Jack from the den. Karen looked at me as if she was in dire trouble and there was something I could do to rescue her. Of course, there wasn't. I still had no real clue from what she needed rescuing.
"I suggest that you two not waste any time." We stepped gingerly into the next room. The men were sitting at the game table, facing the TV.
"The game has just started." Lawrence said in a subdued monotone. "Why don't you two sit with us while we watch the game on this small screen instead of the 35 yard line?
Phil got up and sat on the small sofa, looking at me and patting the empty area adjacent; an obvious invitation to come and sit by his side; it felt more like a command. I surmised that it was best that I do so. The Panthers received the ball first and ran all the way to Atlanta's 14 yard line, but as is typical with Carolina, could not score from within the red zone. Atlanta got the ball, fumbled and a defensive lineman picked it up and ran for a TD, resulting in the first commercial. While the lizard talked about how to save money on car insurance, Lawrence started drilling Karen.
"Would you happen to know where the game tickets are?" he asked.
"They're in my purse."
"And why are they in your purse?"
"Now Larry honey, you told me to put them in my purse."
"That is true my dear, but I believe I later told you to leave them on the dresser...twice even. In fact, you told me you did. Why did you tell me that you had done something when you had not?" Lawrence's jaw was set firm, and his eyes narrowed.
"I...I... was really planning to." She stammered. "But I forgot."
"So you lied. But that would not have been a major problem....if you girls had returned at the time agreed upon. But you didn't. You are over 2 ½ hours late."
I could not keep my mouth closed any longer.
"It wasn't her fault." I blurted.
It was like my outburst was a mute bomb that spread a thick frightening silence throughout the tense room. Larry slowly and deliberately turned his head toward me, scowled furiously, then said to my husband. "Phil, can you handle her?"