6:18pm.
Uncle Jay told me to be downstairs for supper at 6:30pm, so I have plenty of time to read another chapter of my current romance novel. Not that this was a particularly extraordinary novel; it was yet another fake-dating tropey piece, but it included some much darker elements that I am thoroughly enjoying. After an unsettling diagnosis, the protagonist is embracing her rough fantasies and seeking out impact play and other thrills.
It makes me wonder what sort of things I might be kinky about. Is rough sex a kink? Is wanting to be manhandled considered kinky, or is that a normal craving?
Spanking is a common enough act with some of my favorite authors. And I...I really want to experience it. Being scolded like a truly naughty girl, having my pants and panties pulled down low as I'm slung across his lap. Him making me count the smacks between my squirms and whines. I can imagine the whole naughty scene, with my reddening bottom reverberating with each impact. And Uncle Jay - as that's the only man my mind wants to conjure up for this scenario - grinning as I cry and beg for forgiveness. He soothes my ass with slow circles of his hand, as he whispers for me to hush.
"Lita?" Uncle Jay's inquiry pulls me from my daydream and plops me in reality. I reach for my phone to check the time and stand simultaneously, dropping the book I had opened in my lap. I make to reach down for it, but see Jay is already picking it up. On his way up, he slides the book on my bed and his other hand into mine.
"Hey," he whispers.
"Hi," I whisper back.
We agreed to play it day by day, not setting any commitments or labels, only committing to communication with each other and having some fun.
"Food's ready," he murmurs into my ear, his free hand stroking my hair back. "And, Lita?"
I open my eyes and look into his, expectantly.
"We have a guest," he says with a wink. A wink that I in no way know how to interpret.
~
My hand in his, Uncle Jay tugs me around the corner and into the formal dining room. There's a large man sitting at the table. He stops eyeing the food and looks up at us.
"Hello, there!" he booms cheerily. "I'm Mars," he declares as he thrusts his hand over the food in my direction. I lean over my half of the table and give his hand a good, solid shake, saying, "Hi, I'm Lita, it's nice to meet you."
Mars releases my hand and I look to Uncle Jay, who is smiling at us. "Sit, Lita, sit sit," he directs me. I do.
We pile various foods from take-out containers onto our plates, and the guys start talking about their respective jobs and recent projects.
I tune their conversation out, enjoying my meal, and thinking about what I'd like to do with Uncle Jay after Mars leaves. I imagine some straddling, some kissing, maybe some spank-
"Liii-ta?" Uncle Jay singsongs my name, waving a hand in my direction.
I feel my face growing warm as I realize both men are staring at me. I struggle to swallow the lump of food in my mouth, breaking out into a coughing fit. After gulping down some water, I have physically recovered but am mortified at the fit I just had.
"Anyway," Uncle Jay continues, "I asked if you wouldn't mind clearing all the plates once you're finished eating?"
My chest feels warm, but not in an embarrassed way; it's warm in a feeling proud sort of way. I have just enough time to assess that I am pleased to be able to help take care of Uncle Jay in this way.
I nod my head and mumble, "Yes, Uncle Jay, I wouldn't mind."
"Good girl," Jay replies quietly before pulling his gaze off of me and returning it to Mars.
I poke at the remainder of my meal and half-listen to the men talk about past colleagues. Once I'm finished with my water, I ease my chair back and stand.
I survey the array of dirtied plates and half-empty containers. Ever so carefully, I stack the plates and bowls and silverware, and take the trip to the kitchen sink. Grabbing a tray, I return to the table and pile on all the food containers, transporting those to the kitchen, as well. I think I feel Uncle Jay's eyes upon me, watching me walk away, and I smile, swishing my ass a bit more ardently.
I make quick work of putting the leftovers into reusable containers, the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, and all the garbage into the trash can. I peek around the corner of the dining room and see that their water glasses are pretty low.
Picking up my handy tray again, I load it with the refrigerated pitcher of water, and two cans of beer. Walking delicately and precisely, I made my way to the dining table and paused, practicing what I plan on saying.
The guys' conversation also paused.
I mentally rehearsed my line one last time. "May I offer you a drink, Sirs?"
The silent lull hangs on one more moment before Mars's booming laughter fills the room.
Mortified, I glance at Mars, then look over at Uncle Jay - he's smiling at me, but I can't quite read his full expression.
I drop my gaze as Mars's laughter dies down, and realize I've humiliated myself yet again in front of the man I'm trying to impress. I would be cringing at myself if I were reading my own romance novel.
"Thank you, Lita," Uncle Jay says steadily as he claims one of the beer cans, not yet taking his eyes off me. He reaches out and tenderly traces his finger from my elbow down to my wrist.
I think he's about to say something more but the moment is hopelessly lost when Mars startles me by grabbing for his own beer from my tray. I feel the tray plunging from my hands before I can properly react. All I manage to do is flail and crash my hand into the water pitcher on its way down.
