Samantha and Natalie were the two girls next door. They were, I suppose, your average teenagers, being eighteen and nineteen respectively, although I can never remember which is the oldest. They look enough alike to be twins.
Typical of sisters they get along like cat and cat, both of them fiercely independent and resentful if they think the other is encroaching on their territory. I've heard a number of yowling cat-fights between them.
"You wore my new blouse and ruined it."
"You took my makeup and you knew I needed it."
"What have you done to my shoes/purse/jacket/etcetera?"
I have occasionally had cause to yell at them to shut up for a bit because no-one wants to know their little problems, but they just dismiss me as an old grouch. Well, I am pushing thirty, so I suppose that could seem a little old to them.
I've never known why their parents didn't crack down a little harder on the girls when they were fighting. Maybe if they sat down and talked over some of their little differences they'd realise they didn't really matter. Still, mine not to reason why.
We had a hell of a storm recently. Huge wind, and I mean big. It was strong enough to snap a branch of a tree and toss it onto the fence. That was enough to crack a crossbar and, sensing the weakened condition of the fence, the wind attacked with new ferocity. The poor fence didn't have a chance, over half of it being flattened.
Neither I nor the Jacksons were too concerned about the fence going. It fence was a little dilapidated and due for renewal. We even had a couple of quotes available. We rang the fencer who'd been recommended and he came around to do the job. He couldn't do it immediately, he told us, but he would clear away the old fence and arrive first thing Monday to start putting up the new one. We said fine and left the whole mess to him.
This comment on the fence is to explain why there was no fence separating our yards on that weekend.
It was a beautiful Saturday. The sun was shining from a clear blue sky, a couple of fluffy white clouds galloped across the blue like lambs in their pasture. The breeze blowing those clouds was a gentle zephyr at ground level, a pleasantly warm one at that.
I was in the backyard doing a little bit of gardening, mainly tidying up the storm damage. The Jacksons had gone out for the day and all was calm and peaceful.
It turned out that not all the Jacksons had gone out. Mr and Mrs Jackson had departed but Miss Sam and Miss Nat had not. I found this out when they started yelling at each other. What were they yelling about? I neither knew nor cared. I just wished that they'd shut-the-hell-up.
It wasn't to be. Their squabble escalated. Sam barged out of the back door, slamming it behind her, and stood in the yard, fuming. Me, I did my imitation of Brer Fox and I lay low and said nothing. An idiot I am not.
The problem was that after a moment or two Nat came storming out the back door, wanting to continue the fight. The pair of then stood there, yelling in each other's face, and I Brer Foxed just as hard as I could.
All would have been well, from my point of view, but things escalated a bit too far. I don't know who said what to start it but the fight suddenly switched from the verbal to the physical. One moment yelling, the next clawing and scratching and trying to tear out each other's hair. That I couldn't have.
Now if a man tries to get between two fighting girls he deserves all that happens to him. I had no intention of being that man. I just stood back, turned on the hose, and let them have it.
The screaming and the shouting went up a notch but the physical contact broke up, both girls turning their fury in my direction. Fortunately I was a safe distance back.
There were a few very nasty threats expressed but I could live with that.
"Sorry, girls," I called to them, "but you have to keep your fighting to verbal abuse. Them's the rules."
"You rotten pig," shrieked Sam. "We're soaked. Look at us. Just look at us."
That's when I made a slight error of judgement. Just a little one. You know how these things happen.
"I'm looking. I'm looking," I said cheerfully. "Did you know that your tops are transparent when wet. I see someone hasn't put on their bra yet. What a pity."
Both girls turned red and their arms promptly folded over their inadvertently displayed attractions. I laughed and tossed the hose to one side, intending to get on with my gardening.
If I was a computer I'd have started flashing a bright red ERROR sign. Before I knew what was happening I'd been tackled by two furious viragos, both of them intent on drawing blood. My blood, it seemed. I hit the ground before I even knew they were coming at me. It seemed that they were just a little angrier than I thought and I'd now given them a common target.
Apparently it hadn't occurred to the girls that there was a big difference between attacking each other and having a go at a man who probably weighed more than their combined weight. I was also a damned sight stronger than them, was quite fit, and knew some self-defence. I had Sam flat on her tummy in a trice, with Nat bent over her, also face down.
I held them like that quite effortlessly, in complete control of the situation.
The girls were still wriggling and swearing, even if they weren't achieving anything. I decided that if I wanted to talk to them I needed to get their attention.
Both girls were wearing skirts. Not the sort of thing you should wear if you're going to be in a fight. I casually lifted both skirts exposing two pretty little bottoms, bottoms that promptly received a hard smack. There were two squeals and then the girls shut-up and help still.
"Any more nonsense and the next spank will be on a couple of bare bottoms," I told them, speaking in a no-nonsense voice.
They wouldn't listen. They both started squealing and wriggling and threatening me. I was a simple matter for me to lower two pairs of panties, exposing two little bottoms. (And other parts that were revealed when the girls started kicking their legs about.)
I very carefully placed a hard spank on each bare bottom, getting another pair of squeals and a moment's silence.
"OK, Sam, Nat, you've got a choice. Lie still for a moment and listen to a few words of wisdom or kick up a fuss and you each get a proper spanking. As you can probably figure out that spanking will be on your currently naked bottoms."
I said naked rather than bare to try to get it through their thick skulls that they were in a spot of bother.
Will. Not. Listen.
They resumed their squealing and kicking so I shrugged and started a couple of spankings. After they'd each received a half dozen of the best they were suddenly interested in what I had to say. I admired there nice red bottoms for a moment, trying to recall what I was trying to tell them. Oh, yes. Fighting.
"I don't know what you were fighting over and I don't care, but if you girls insist of squabbling between yourselves then you had better keep it to verbal," I told them. "From now on if I catch you two getting into a physical fight I'm going to paddle the pair of you, and if I have to do this in front of your parents then so be it. Understood?"
While I'd been talking my hand had been sort of drifting across first one little bottom and then the other. Both girls were staying very still, not saying anything.
When I tossed out the understood there were a couple of very hasty assents. I decided to continue with my little lecture.
