Seriously, who wouldn't look? No woman I know. As I look closer, I can see now that he doesn't even have a zipper, they're button fly. Awe, oh well, he's still hot.
It's the last day of the A-Z Spanking Blog Challenge, so I'm sure you all will cut me some slack. During the month of June, I've read amazing blogs, made some new friends and had a great time. At first I was hesitant about signing up. I'm not exactly tech savvy, but I figured it was a good way to become more proficient at blogging. It worked. I'm getting pretty good at posting pics and overriding my antivirus, that tells me EVERYTHING has a virus.
I want to thank everyone who visited, and left wonderful comments and apologize for my blog being so sparse and boring the last few days. My husband has not been well and I've been pretty distracted and incredibly busy taking care of him. Thanks to the folks at Spanking Romance Reviews for sponsoring this challenge. I had fun and was glad to be included.
Every time I think of the word 'yearn', I can't help but recall Splendor In The Grass. If you've never seen the 1961 movie staring Natalie Wood and Warren Beatty, you're missing something special.
"A fragile Kansas girl's unrequited and forbidden love for a handsome young man from the town's most powerful family drives her to heartbreak and madness."
These words don't even begin to describe the painful and heartbreaking yearning the young lovers in this movie have for one another. It's one of those movies you never forget, and you will feel the emotions long after the credits roll. The ending, taken from William Wordsworth poem, is so moving, I cry every time I watch it.
Please stop my the other blogs on this A-Z Spanking Challenge. It's almost over so take a few moments to show your support for these awesome writers.
The definition of Xanthippe is an ill-tempered, shrewish woman. By all accounts the wife of Socrates was exactly that.
In my books, that would have been dealt with quickly in a manner likely to discourage such a disrespectful attitude.
Sorry about the short, late post folks. Bill had surgery yesterday and it's been a hellish few weeks. On the plus side, he's doing well and there are only two more letter left. Hope I can do better tomorrow. Please visit the other bloggers on the A-Z Spanking Blog Challenge: http://spankingromance.com/the-june-spanking-a-z-challenge-spanka2z/
I don't know what it is with me and weddings. All of my books either have them, or plan them. Seriously, it's not like mine was so great and in fact if I hadn't been so in love with the groom, I probably would have skipped the whole thing.
My dress cost a whopping $55.00, the veil was $27.00 and I borrowed the shoes, giant crystal platform shoes so I wouldn't look too ridiculous standing next to Bill, who had to wear his 'dress boots'. Is there even such a thing? The flowers Keriann and I got after hours on Friday night, dumpster diving at all the local florists, her idea by the way. Keriann played her guitar and sang for the service, which was one of the nicer touches.
The Bridesmaids were my nieces, wearing used dresses remade from my other sisters wedding and they were butt ugly. I would worry about saying that, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't read my blog.
Bill's suit cost more than my dress, $110.00 from Anderson Little and when he and his groomsmen went to pick it up the morning of the wedding, they stopped for a little bar hopping. The wedding was an evening candlelight service at 8:00 p.m. and for some strange reason, Bill told them that I would cook a spaghetti dinner for them all if they just came to my house. NOT! I was busy playing beauty parlor and it didn't take me long to toss their drunken asses out with stern orders to sober up. By the end of the argument, Bill and I weren't even speaking.
I wasn't sure if he would show up at the church or not, but I trucked my pretty little ass there, just in case. We had previously decided that instead of my walking up the aisle to him, we would walk up together and boy was I glad to see him waiting there for me when I came upstairs from the Brides Room.
"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" I asked, not bothering to conceal my attitude.
"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't" he shot back, sticking out his arm for me to hold, and away we went.
I'm not sure I know of another bride and groom who weren't speaking when they got to the church, but we managed to say 'I do", and he really did kiss me, lol.
The reception was at the fire barn and we were supposed to go away for a night, but by the time it was over and we went home we were both so tired he carried me over the threshold, we ordered subs and watched a monster movie on TV.
I guess that's why I put so much thought into my fictional weddings. I want my girls to have beautiful weddings to go with their love stories.
Have a great day and please visit some of the other blogs.
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What a perfectly inadequate word to describe what goes on in my mind. Even now, as I write this, I am vacillating about what I want to say. I feel as though I am talking to friends when I blog as I think most of the readers are other authors or fans, but...really, what if? How intimate should I be, although the GTO and soaking post were pretty intimate, still, I could get a whole lot more intimate if I choose to. But should I, that's really the question and if I do, who will actually read it and think, wow, she's pretty perverted for an old babe who has been married for like 100 years...
I had this old boss, well he wasn't really old, just my old boss, the one I had last, before I retired. I guess he was kinda old, if you're young you would think so. Anyway, at first I thought he was an arrogant jerk. Then as I got to know him better I thought he was sorta cool, sometimes, but still had his jerky moments. As time went on I actually came to like the guy, mostly, when he wasn't pissing me off. We had big, huge fights about stupid stuff, like ketchup. It was a good day if I could make him put his hands in his hair (he didn't have much) and pull it as he yelled, "Why are you doing this to me?"
See, I think the basic problem was he wasn't used to smart women. Not that the other women who worked there were dumb, they weren't, but I don't think he knew how to argue with someone like me. Someone who thinks everything over from every angle, vacillating until I make a decision, and is also quick on the draw, verbally. He once told me I was about the best he'd every run across as far as making excuses. I said, they aren't excuses, they are the rational for why I did, whatever. I told him to spend five minutes in my head and he'd run screaming from the building. I missed him when I retired. It's kinda fun to argue with someone who can't slap my ass, lol.
Writing causes me to vacillate constantly. Is this spank worthy? Should it be over the clothes? On the panties? On the bare? Does the severity constitute an implement or just the hand? What should said implement be? Hairbrush, wooden spoon, ruler...? Should she fight and kick or just accept her punishment? Or maybe...she can talk her way out of it? Naw, she'll think he's a wimp, or maybe not, maybe she'll respect him for admitting he almost made a mistake in spanking her for something that really wasn't her fault. But was it her fault? Holy crap, just shut up already!
Wow, only four more days to go in the blog challenge! Stop by and visit some of the other bloggers before it's too late.
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We all know them, the couples that seem so mismatched it's almost funny. "They'll never stay together," we whisper behind our hands. "I give it six months, tops."
Yet years later we're toasting them at their 25th anniversary party. Other couples, that seemed prefect for each other, fall out of love, often ending up divorced in battles so vicious they are unable to maintain any level of civility.
I don't have the answers to why some couples make it and others crash and burn. We all expect so much, blinded by sitcoms and happily ever after movies and books. I get that; I don't want to read 'sad' either. People have enough difficulty dealing with their own issues. I want my books to be an escape from reality, but on the other hand, I have to write what I know, what I believe to a certain extent.
In Book One of my Sugar Babies, Inc. Series, A Sweet and Sassy Match, there's a section where Sam is explaining his views regarding marriage and relationships to Johanna. I absolutly agree with what he tells her about 'the givers' and 'the takers'.
People often say to me,
'You and Bill are so lucky. You have a great marriage." Excuse me, LUCKY? Luck has nothing to do with it! Love, hard work, commitment, putting someone's needs above you own, those are the qualities that make a marriage work. Be a giver. Here's another little thing I've learned along the way.
People tend to be who you think they are. I'm not a physiologist, but if you spend you life ragging on your man, you will end up with a man worth ragging on. If you put that time into building him up, accentuating his good points, the good points will grow. Let him hear you tell a friend what a wonderful, husband, father, lover he is, and he will want to be that man. It sounds simplistic, but it's tough to be a prick to someone who thinks your the best thing since sliced bread.
Okay, enough ranting from the old married lady. Hope you enjoy this excerpt:
“The answer to your question, Jo, is yes. I did smack your ass. You were late.”
“I apologized for that,” Jo insisted indignantly.
“Yes, and I accepted, but you need to know there are consequences in life, Jo. There will always be consequences with me for tardiness or other unacceptable behavior.”
To say Jo was flabbergasted would be an understatement. After she collapsed back against her chair, her mouth dropped open and then snapped shut. For several moments she digested his words as Sam calmly waited for her response.
“Don’t you think that attitude is a little outdated, even old-fashioned maybe?” she asked when she finally found her voice.
“Absolutely,” he agreed, without an ounce of uncertainty. “I’m sure the feminists of this world would like nothing better than to string me up as a bad example.”
“Then why would you…?”
The waiter appeared to take their order, and for the next several minutes, Sam discussed with her what choices she would like. After they decided, the waiter disappeared and the conversation continued. Jo found herself listening intently, intrigued. No matter how off base Sam appeared to be, she had to respect his confidence and determination.
“I know who I am, Jo. And I know what kind of woman I’m looking for. I have no doubt that when I find her I will make her very happy.”
Jo snorted. “What woman would be happy to be controlled 24/7? I can’t think of anyone I know who would want to be under some man’s thumb, with consequences for what he would consider misbehavior.”
“You’re wrong, Jo,” Sam said, pausing while their salads were served, and grinning when Jo ordered another glass of wine. “What you’re referring to would be the absolute other end of the spectrum. That would be a master/slave relationship where every aspect of the woman’s life would be controlled and monitored. I have no desire for that type of relationship. I’m talking about something entirely different.”
Jo speared a cherry tomato and considered. “How would it be different, in what way? You obviously want to be the one in charge, handing out smacks for infractions. Maybe that would progress to actual beatings over time?”
Sam’s eyes narrowed, pinning her in place. “That would never happen, Jo. I protect and cherish what is mine,” he growled.
“Sorry,” she told him softly, a quiver of fear trembling in her tummy. “I’m just trying to understand your position.”
“I know it’s difficult to comprehend if you have no previous experience with it. Think of it as a loving and benevolent father, putting his daughter’s well-being above all else. Cherishing and protecting her, guiding her and yes, providing discipline when it is needed.”
`”I’m afraid that would be a stretch for me, Sam,” Jo informed him with a bitter twist to her lips. “My father was nothing like that. The only thing he cared about was having a good time with an endless parade of women. He finally deserted us when I was thirteen, and while he never physically abused me or my mother, he made it perfectly clear that we were an impediment to the life he wanted. Cherishing, protecting and guiding, well that was not something he had time for,” she finished, unaware of just how much she had revealed.
“What money he did make was for his personal enjoyment.”
“Jo, I’m so sorry,” Sam whispered, reaching across the table and firmly taking her hand.
Jo laughed, not aware of how hollow it sounded. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Sam. My mother and I did all right. Student loans and part time jobs put me through college, and I manage to take care of any of my mother’s expenses that she can’t afford.”
“It must have been difficult for you, taking on so much responsibility at such a young age. I take it your mother isn’t in good health?”
“No, she’s not,” Jo answered, finishing her wine and looking around for the waiter.
Their dinner arrived and they continued to talk while they ate. Sam was charming, and Jo found herself relaxing and enjoying herself, despite the somewhat rocky start to their evening. Jo tried to get more information out of him about his business, but Sam just smiled and told her, “Soon.” Now what the hell did that mean?
When their waiter came to clear away their plates, Jo asked for another glass of wine. Sam looked at her in surprise and instructed the waiter to bring them coffee.
“Don’t you have to work tomorrow?” Sam asked, choosing to ignore, for the moment, Jo’s mutinous expression as she picked up her purse and pulled out her wallet.
“Yes, so?” she asked, pulling out a twenty dollar bill. “I can buy my own wine, Sam, if it’s a problem.”
“Buying you a glass of wine isn’t a problem, Jo. The problem would be in sending you home drunk, and you’ve already had three glasses. Now put your money away and stop trying to push my buttons. Believe me, you won’t like the results.”
“Push your buttons?” Jo gasped, the slight buzz she had making her voice louder than she intended.
“Yes,” Sam insisted firmly just as the waiter appeared with the coffee. Sam thanked him and slid Jo’s coffee closer to her. “Now be a good girl and drink that. Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? You’re curious Jo. Wondering about that spank I gave you earlier? Wondering if I truly mean everything I’ve told you tonight? You’re thinking only a crazy woman would agree to the kind of dynamics I’ve described. After all, what woman would want a man so totally devoted to her that he paid attention to every little detail of her life? What woman would want a man who knew her so well that nothing slipped by him? If she was upset or angry or hurt, he would know it and do everything humanly possible to help her.
“A man who would care for her as if she were the most precious thing in his world, because she is.”
Jo squirmed in her seat. It was clear he meant exactly what he said. Butterflies danced in her tummy as her heartbeat thumped at her temples. Her panties were damp and it appalled her. God, yes, she thought him attractive, but now doubly so. She couldn’t imagine someone taking care of her for a change, and it was a heady thought and oh so tempting. She actually couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked her what they could do for her. Had there ever been someone to hold her when she cried, or to reassure her when she was worried or weary? Her hands trembled as she picked up the coffee cup and obeyed him. Jo knew she’d had too much to drink, but hadn’t been able to stop herself from ordering another one. This evening was nothing like she had expected, and she was truly rattled. After several sips of the strong brew, she pulled herself together.
“That’s quite a lovely picture you paint, Sam, especially for someone like me. But you already knew that, didn’t you? I don’t know how, but you did,” Jo told him, tipping her head to one side and looking quizzically at him. “The problem at the heart of such a relationship would be the loss of control, for me at least. I don’t think I could just throw myself into your arms and say, here I am, take care of me.”
“You’d be surprised at what a freeing experience that can be, Jo,” Sam said, looking into her deep blue eyes and trying not to notice how much darker the circles under them looked in only a short time. “Yes, it would involve giving up some control. I would expect a woman of mine to listen to me and trust that I always have her best interests at heart, especially when it comes to her health and safety. But as I said before, I’m not looking for a slave. There are two kinds of people in this world, Jo, the givers and the takers. The best relationships are formed when you have two givers, both parties working together to build the best union possible.”
“And you would be the giver of spankings?” she asked, leaning back in her chair and forcing her eyes to meet his squarely, despite her shaking hands.
Stop by and visit some of the other bloggers today. You never know what interesting tidbits they're posting.
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What's more delicious than a man who knows how to tease properly? In Matched for Keeps, Marcus has Susan on a slow simmer all weekend, refusing to have sex with her until they reach his mountain lodge. Now that they are finally alone and almost home, he gives her a sample of what he has in store for her:
Sugar Babies, Inc. Book Three, Matched For Keeps
Susan stayed where she was, across from Marcus until he snagged her wrist and pulled her over and onto his lap. Burying his face in her hair he sighed, his arm firmly around her.
“Ah,” he sighed, breathing in her fragrance. “Alone at last,” he whispered approvingly.
“Alright Snidely Whiplash, take it easy,” Sue replied. “There’s still the driver you know.”
Marcus laughed, sliding one hand down and massaging her bare foot gently. Working his way back up her leg, he pushed her short skirt out of the way as he stroked her delicate skin.
Sue squirmed as he lingered at the inside of her thighs, her stiff back relaxing in pleasure, despite herself. When his large hand moved higher, cupping her firmly, she moaned in delight.
“You’re wet,” Marcus groaned.
“Whose fault is that?” Sue asked, her breathing rapidly accelerating.
“Mine, I hope and I intend to keep you that way, wet, hot and needy. How do you feel about going commando?” he teased, lightly stroking her clit through her panties.
“That is exactly the kind of question you ask when your hand is not buried between my legs,” she gasped.
“But you’re so such more malleable this way,” Marcus replied, smiling as he bent to kiss her neck.
“Exactly,” she agreed, her thighs falling further apart as she arched into his hand. “It’s an unfair tactic,” she panted, loving the feel of his erection pressing against her ass. “You just think it will be easier to spank me without panties.”
“Red, any spanking you get from me will always be on your bare ass,” he laughed. “Panties are a minor inconvenience, easily remedied.” As if to prove his point he slipped his finger under the edge of her panties and gathered her moisture, rubbing it over her clit in slow circles.
“Marcus, please,” she begged as her head fell back, exposing more of her neck to his kiss. Her hips arched, trying to steer him inside her but he wouldn’t be rushed and in fact lessened the pressure as she pushed against him.
“Settle down, Red. We’ll be home soon,” he breathed into her ear.
“Fuck you Marcus,” she growled, sitting up and grabbing his shirt in both hands. “You started this fire and you damn well better be good at putting it out.”
“Such language coming from such a delicate little thing,” he laughed, pulling his hand out of her panties, giving her one final pat as the driver turned off the road.
Hope you enjoyed this little snippet from my Sugar Babies, Inc. Series. Book Four will be out soon. Have a great weekend.
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For years I've wondered if my husband was strangely unique or just strange lol. When we first got together I spent a great deal of time trying to decipher his words. As a young 'city' girl I'd never met anyone quite like him, a true 'country' boy.
When he would answer a question with "Does a bear shit in the woods?" I would stop and think about it. Well, yes, I guess he does,I mean where else would he go? So does this mean your answer is yes?
"Can't dance, to wet to plow?" Over time I learned that this meant, we might as well do something or other.
"I couldn't buy a low-necked dress for a Hummingbird." Okay, so if you can't afford a itty, bitty dress for an itty bitty bird, you must be really broke, right?
"You can't polish a turd." Why would you want too?
"He could hunt Geese with a rake." Excuse me?
Needless to say, opposites do attract and we began to bring out the best in each other. I think I taught him a little finesse and he brought me down to earth. Seriously, I had no idea it cost money to turn up the thermostat. If you were cold you turned it up, hot turn it down. I guess I thought the mysterious furnace fairy took care of that. My family wasn't rich, but I never worried about money or even thought much about it. Water, sewer, natural gas were all things that were somehow just pumped to our house by some intricate underground system. He grew up using an outhouse until he was around seven when his parents could afford to build a home with indoor plumbing.
Anyway, to get back to the letter 'S'. In one of my novels, I used something my husband always said to me. He would crawl into bed, after a long exhausting day and spoon me, I love that. Then the sneaky man would begin kissing my neck and nibbling my ear as he whispered, "I just wanna soak it."
Never, let me repeat this as it's crucially important, never believe this! There is no such thing as 'soaking' it. Yes, it's warm and wet in there, well it is after a few minutes of nibbling and kissing, but they will be no soaking. Trust me, one of you will move! And it doesn't have to be much of a move either. Pretty soon a big, strong arm will come snaking around your abdomen and a hand with very talented fingers will head south. End of soaking!
So, when I put this in my novel, my editors had no idea what I was talking about and just plain didn't get the image of 'soaking'. I had to take it out, so I didn't confuse the readers. So tell me, do you get it? And is my husband strangely unique or just strange? I'm keeping him anyway, and after 43 years, I may be pretty strange myself, but I'm curious.
Please stop by and visit some of the other bloggers taking part in the challenge. I'm sure they'll appreciate it. Thanks
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I don't think I could write a story about a female character if she wasn't a little bit of a rebel. Conflict is necessary and of course resolution usually comes in the form of a trip across the hero's knee. Besides that, it just plain fun and Bridget O'Malley has been more fun than most. In my novella, The Not-So-Lucky Bridget O'Malley, conflict begins on the very first page, so here's an excerpt. Hope you enjoy it.
Bridget O’Malley plopped down on a bar stool at The Rose and Thistle and promptly jumped back off with a squeal. Her brother, Patrick, made no attempt to conceal his amusement as he took inventory of the liquor bottles behind the bar.
“Do you always laugh at the misfortunes of your customers,” Bridget asked tartly, standing at the bar. “Give me a beer.”
“Not all of them,” Patrick shot back smiling. “Only ones who are deserving of a little, ah what was it you called it? Oh yes, misfortune. I hardly see how a sore hind end can be classified as misfortune. Knowing Dell, I’m sure you earned it.”
“Just shut up, Pat, and give me a beer.”
“A please would be nice.”
“Do all your paying customers say please?” she asked sarcastically.
“No, are you paying?”
“Well, no but…just put it on my tab will you?”
Patrick laughed. “You don’t have a tab, Bridge, and if you did you wouldn’t pay it anyway,” he told her putting a beer on a coaster in front of her. “What’s the trouble about anyway? You’ve been surprisingly well behaved since you and Dell got engaged. I thought things were good between you two.”
“They are, or they were until a little while ago,” Bridget replied after taking a big gulp of her drink.
“So what happened?” Patrick was genuinely concerned. He and his older brother Rory had put a lot of effort into this relationship, probably more than Bridget. They’d almost hand-picked Dell for their little sister. Frantic for her to settle down, at least a little bit, they spent hours talking to Dell and instructing him on the proper way to handle their headstrong, wild sister. No one in the family wanted Bridget to be unhappy, but they didn’t want her to self-destruct either. She needed love certainly, but firm guidance and stability were essential. The quintessential free spirit, Bridget sailed through life in the moment without a care or concern for the future. Her personal motto was, ‘If it feels good, do it.’ She loved everyone and assumed everyone loved her. Bridget had absolutely no sense of fear or restraint and the entire O’Malley family had breathed a collective sigh of relief when Delbert Bertram Winston the 4th had somehow convinced her to marry him.
“We had an argument over St Patrick’s Day,” Bridget answered gloomily. “Apparently we have been invited to the St. Patrick’s Day Dinner Dance at the country club and Winston told his parents we were going.”
“So, I told him there was no way in hell I was going to miss the St Patrick’s Day bash at the pub. I said I wasn’t spending one of the most important days of the year at his stuffy country club with a bunch of people who were so socially constipated they can barely fart!”
Patrick dropped the bar towel to the floor so he could bend down and have a second or two to recover. Biting the side of his cheek, he controlled his laughter not wanting to give his sister any encouragement. In all reality she was probably right. Standing back up he noticed her flushed cheeks and flashing eyes. He could just imagine how angry and confrontational she had been with Dell.
“How did that go over?” Patrick asked watching her blonde ponytail swinging behind her.
“He said I was being unreasonable, that my language was atrocious and that he hoped I would not feel the need to be vulgar at the dance. I said vulgar? You want to see vulgar? Look at this hawking big ring on my finger, now that’s vulgar,” she continued, sticking out her tiny hand adorned with a four karat solitaire surrounded by smaller stones.
“Oh Bridget,” Pat sighed. “I don’t think that was a good idea. Did he ask for his ring back?”
“No, and he wouldn’t take it when I tried to give it to him. He said I made a commitment to him and he was going to see that I kept it. I tell you Pat, I thought my head was going to explode I was so pissed off. I don’t understand why his mother didn’t want me to keep the first ring he gave me. It was much smaller and prettier, but no, I have to wear this giant thing. I know it’s expensive and old but I swear it’s so big it looks like it came out of a bubble gum machine.”
Patrick watched as Bridget picked up her beer and drained it before slamming it down on the bar. He refilled it without a word and waited for her to continue. Knowing Bridget, he figured what she’d told him so far was just the tip of the iceberg. Bridget might be small in stature, but her ego was monstrous.
“So was that the end of it?” Patrick asked after he served another customer.
“Hell no! He told me that for once in my life I was going to behave and do as I was told. I was starting to get a little nervous. Winston is really pretty strong, even for a geek, but I figured I was way faster than him. Turns out I’m not as fast as I thought. I finally just told him to kiss my Irish ass and that I was not going to that damn dance and there was nothing he could do about it. Turns out I was wrong about that too,” she finished red-faced as she absently rubbed her bottom while sipping her beer.
“Look Bridge,” Patrick said gently as he walked around the bar and threw his heavy arm over her shoulder. “Maybe Dell’s not the man for you after all. I really like him, we all do, but we thought you were in love with him. If you’re not…”
“That’s what really sucks about the whole thing, Pat. I do love him, the shithead,” she admitted with a grimace. “I really just set out to seduce him,” she stated, giving her brother a jab with her elbow when she heard his hissed curse. “Oh, shut up Pat, guys do it all the time. For some reason I was immediately attracted to the big geek. I figured we could have some fun and he really did make me laugh. He took himself so seriously that I couldn’t resist bursting his bubble. He was like a huge piece of bubble wrap that you just can’t leave alone after you pop the first one,” Bridget grinned unashamedly. “And besides that, what are you doing taking my side when you just about gave him lessons on spanking me? What’s up with that?”
“I know, it doesn’t make sense to me either,” Patrick admitted walking back behind the bar. “I just want you to be happy Bridget, and safe and loved. If I thought for one second that Dell did not have your best interest at heart…if he ever disciplined you without love behind it, I’d punch his lights out myself.”
“Don’t worry about it, okay? He hasn’t spanked me since Christmas Eve Day so I figure maybe he owes me a little. As much as it pains me to admit it, I do have my moments when I can be a little aggravating. Winston is really a gentle natured man, but he has his limits. I just have to figure out where the line in the sand is and dance on this side of it.”
Patrick smiled. “Cheer up Bridget, maybe you can bring some of those old codgers to life at the dance. You can be very charming when you want to, kid.”
“Thanks, Pat, for listening to me bitch without judging me. I have to get moving. I’m meeting Mrs. Delbert Winston the 3rd for a shopping expedition. Apparently she doesn’t trust me not to embarrass them at their soiree so she wants to help me find a dress. She’s paying of course, ‘Nothing is too good for Dell’s little fiancee’,” she mocked flashing her ring.
“Have fun kid, put a dent in her budget,” Patrick encouraged.
“Hell, I couldn’t put a dent in their budget if I insisted I needed a carriage drawn by six white horses. Wait till you see their house, I mean they have servants for Christ’s sake,” she finished, giving a little repulsive shiver. “The place is like a museum,” she called over her shoulder as she headed to the door.
Hope you find time to check out some of the other blogs on the Spanking A-Z challenge.
Most of my life, I've been in a hurry. Patience is a virtue, not mine. Do it! Do it now! Do it right or get out of my way and I'll do it myself!
I wasn't always like this. As a child I recall lazy summer days lying on my bed,the smell of freshly mowed lawn and Lilacs drifting in my window as I day-dreamed or read.
I think it started when I began to have children. One, two, three, oh here comes four, oops five. Suddenly, there was no time to dawdle. There were clothes to wash, children to bathe, meals to prepare, doctor appointments, shopping and family gatherings. No! Please don't pour maple syrup on your brother's head! We don't have time for this! Get that cleaned up, quickly now, we're going to be late. By the time the last child was presentable enough to leave the house, the first one had gotten dirty. I remember being ready to walk out the door, frazzled, quickly running out of patience, only to find my son sitting on the toilet backward, marching in the water with his new sneakers on. Really?
Over time I became a pint-sized Drill Sargent. "Do you kids realize if I have to tell each of you 5 times to clean your room, I've said it 25 times!!!"
"If you call Mommy one more time, I'll change my name! Go to sleep!"
"Helen?" (My name is NOT Helen, it really isn't)
I became the Queen of Quickies. Seriously, I could climax 3 times in 10 minutes, maybe less. We did it everywhere, went parking on the way to the store if we could find someone to mind the kids, in the bathroom, with me sitting on the washer (he's tall), we were quick and stealthy, like sex ninja's.
My job outside of the home was working with the frail elderly or disabled I was usually the first one in, assessing the situation and making referrals to the proper agencies. I guess I was still kind of a Drill Sargent, not with my clients but with those who were to serve their needs.
"No they can't wait till next week! They need it now, actually yesterday. Yes I know your busy but this is critical. Are you telling me you won't take this referral? I just want your name for my records so that the proper agency can bear the responsibility WHEN MY CLIENT FREEZES TO DEATH, OR STARVES OR DROPS DEAD FROM LACK OF MEDICAL ATTENTION! Yes, thank you, see you tomorrow."
So, now that I'm older and my kids are grown you would think I would have more patience. I'm retired for God's sake. I should relax, take it easy, that sort of thing, but no. I hate waiting, I hate being shuffled to the back burner and I absolutely abhor having smoke blown up my ass, not literally of course. If you tell me you're going to do it, do it now, do it right and if you can't, I'll get somebody who can or I'll do it myself.
End of rant. Have a nice day.
Go visit some of the other blogs before I have to do it myself!
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Hi, I'm Stevie MacFarlane and I write sweet erotic romance and D/D, occasionally with a touch of kink.
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