Covert Cravings (3 page)

Emily was ten minutes late but her co-manager, Suzanne, had arrived earlier than she needed to and had opened the store. Suzanne was making a habit of it.  She really liked Emily but being on time was not Emily’s strong suit.  Suzanne didn’t mind.  She was the reliable one and the
brainiac, and having Emily there meant she didn’t have to deal with the demanding customers or mess with the mannequins.

Emily and Suzanne had both been considered for the job of manager when the position opened up.  Emily had the personality and wow factor.  The clients loved her and she was brilliant at the store displays.  Suzanne, on the other hand, was the quiet, smart clerk who could keep tabs on the stock, arrange the schedules of the store personnel and keep the cash receipts recorded accurately.  It was finally decided to make them co-managers; it had worked out perfectly.

“So sorry, Suze,” Emily apologized as she burst in the door.  “I just couldn’t get myself up this morning.”

“It’s ok.  I know being on time isn’t your thing,” Suzanne replied.  “Besides, if I had a hunk like Scott next to me I wouldn’t want to get out of bed either.”

Emily laughed.  Suzanne was the quiet type but there was nothing shy about her sometimes.

“You don’t want to ask,” Emily replied, giggling.

“You’re so lucky.  Scott’s such a cool guy,” Suzanne said wistfully.  “I wish I could find a guy like that.”

Emily sighed.  Everyone liked Scott.  He was just
that
guy.  He was so personable and easy going.  Even with his employees he was super understanding when things came up.  But they didn’t take advantage of him.  They liked and respected him too much. And he was so cute. He looked a little like Sting, but better.  Having been a surfer since he was a kid he had the wide shoulders and great body surfers were famous for.  And of course the sun bleached his hair, and his brown eyes were sexy as hell. 

She hadn’t been able to finish her blog the night before and it was bothering her.  There were some boxes to be unpacked and clothes to be tagged, so she told Suzanne she was going to get the chore done and she moved to the back of the store and started ripping open the large packages. 

She wanted to do the work because it was mindless and she thought she might be able to compose the rest of the blog in her head.  She knew it wasn’t until she was alone late at night in front of her computer that she could really let the words flow, but it was on her mind and she wanted to think about it.

She pictured the screen...

When he picked up the hairbrush I could feel the hot, hard sting before he’d even crossed the room. 
His Walk was slow, painfully slow and—

...
and what?  How would I feel? 

And I felt goosebumps. He was calm. Too calm. I had kept him waiting a fully thirty minutes and he was going to make sure I never did it again.

Damn!   Why do I always go there? 

Because you want him to spank you for it! Because you know how hot and sexy it will feel, and because you really don’t like being late all the time! 

The phone rang, startling her out of her reverie.  Suzanne’s voice crackled over the small intercom on the desk.  It was Scott.  Talk about timing!  Still standing, she reached across and picked up the phone

“Hey babe,” she said happily.  “What’s up?”

“What time are you planning on coming home tonight?  Do you need to stay late for anything?  Doing any displays?” he asked. 

“I’m unpacking some boxes now.  If I see something special I might, but I don’t have to. Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking I might be up for some Thai food. Would you like to pick some up for dinner?”

“Sure.  You want the usual?  Pepper Chicken?”

“Actually, no.  I want to try a curry for a change.  Get me some Chicken Panang with white rice.”

She paused.  This was not normal. She couldn’t remember the last time he had ordered anything other than his Pepper Chicken.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Of course I’m sure.  I’m tired of the same old thing.  Oh, and I need you to do something else for me,” he added.

“Ok.  What’s that?”

“Stop at the drugstore and pick up one of those wooden hairbrushes, the round one – or oval.  You know what I’m talking about?  The kind that men used to spank their wives with back in the day.”

All at once Emily’s heart completely stopped, as did her breathing.  Then her throat constricted, followed by the buckling of her knees.  They dropped out from under her and she fell butt first into a box of unpacked dresses.

“
Ooohhh...” she squealed, as she hit the soft landing.

“Hello?  Emily, are you there?  Are you ok?” he asked, hearing the sound of her fall.

“Uh huh,” she managed, realizing she was holding the receiver so tightly her knuckles were white and her fingers were hurting.

“Is something the matter?”

His voice was so calm, so controlled. 

Well of course his voice is calm, you ninny.  He’s just talking!  He has no idea what you were just thinking about.  Or the fact that you’ve been obsessing about a hairbrush for weeks!

“You know what I’m talking about don’t you?  Remember those old newspaper ads where the man in the suit had his wife over his lap and he was holding a wooden hairbrush up over her ass?”

Why did he have to keep saying it?

“Uh huh,” she repeated, unable to think of anything else to say and completely sure she wouldn’t be able to speak even if she could.

“Don’t you want to know why I want one?” he asked.

Oh my God, of course.  Why didn’t I ask him?  He doesn’t use hairbrushes
,
just that comb he carries around all the time.

Frantically, she tried to get her voice to work but her throat was still seized up, and now her mouth was utterly dry.

“Uh huh,” she squeaked again.

“Wow.  You’re a veritable chatterbox today,” he chuckled.

Say something, you idiot!

“Just pre-occupied,” she stammered.  “Stuff on my mind.”

Why did you say that?  Stuff on your mind?  Arrggh.
 

“You know… work stuff,” she added quickly.

“Well, don’t you?” he asked.

“Huh?” she replied, feeling totally unnerved and suddenly having no idea what he was talking about.

“Don’t you want to know why I want the hairbrush?  Are you sure you’re ok?” he pressed, “you sound kind of out of it.”

“I’m fine,” she answered, rubbing her forehead, trying to collect herself and clamber out of the box.  “Yes. Tell me.”

“I thought I’d spank you next time you’re late.”

Whhaattt
?  OH MY GOD!  DID HE JUST SAY THAT?  Say something – anything! Make a joke.  Laugh...

“Try it!” she squeaked, and managed a hollow giggle.

“I’m just kidding,” he chuckled.  “Brad told me it was a great tool to sweep the sand out of the car mats.”

Ok – I really need to get off this phone...

“Someone’s calling me, Scott.  I have to go,” she said quickly.

“But you’ll pick one up for me?”

“Sure.  Bye”

“Bye, Doll.”

Emily hung up the phone and flopped down in the chair by the desk.

Holy Crap!  He must know.  Dammit, he has to know.  But how could he know?  I need some coffee.

Her face was hot and she felt kind of sick and there was a team of tiny gymnasts doing very complicated routines in her stomach. Unsteadily, she rose to her feet, looked at the crumpled box and decided to deal with it later.  She walked clumsily to the front of the store and sat down behind the counter.

“Hey – what’s the matter with you?” Suzanne asked.  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.  Actually that’s not true, you look like you’ve been in the sun too long.  You’re all red.”

Emily buried her face in her hands.  Right now she needed Samantha but her friend couldn’t take personal calls at work.

“Too complicated to explain.  Let’s just say Scott is full of surprises right now and I don’t know what to make of it.”

“Better than being boring,” Suzanne commented.

Emily stared at her.  It had only been a few weeks back when that had been her very complaint. 

Scott hung up the phone grinning broadly.  That would start her heart pumping.  He hoped, given enough fodder she would confide in him.  Share her fantasies.  It was disappointing that she hadn’t already.  He wondered if he was somehow to blame.  But she knew he was not in the least judgmental.

“Well,” he said out loud, staring at his computer screen, “you’ll figure it out, Emily, one way or another.”

He was amazed at the huge amount of information available on spanking, and Dominance and submission.  The sites were endless and there seemed to be conflicting guidelines.  After a while he realized he just had to take what felt right to him and forget the rest. 

Returning to her blog, he noticed some consistencies in her narrative.  She was almost always blindfolded, she often had her hands tied while being spanked, and being spanked was something she went to great lengths to describe.

A plan began formulating in his mind.

“I’m telling you, Emily, he knows,” Sam insisted. 

Emily had sent her friend a 911 text insisting they meet for lunch at their usual meeting spot.  They met at the same Thai restaurant where she would be picking up dinner. She didn’t care that she’d be having Thai twice in one day.  Seeing Sam was vital.

“But how could he?” Emily asked.  “I mean… he thinks I’m Internet shopping.”

Samantha rolled her eyes.

“How long did you think that excuse was going to last? I don’t know how he knows but he knows.  It’s typical Dom behavior.  He’s playing with you.”

Emily sighed. 

“You really think there’s a Dom in him?”

“Certainly seems like it,” Sam replied.  “And regardless of what you think I’ll bet you dollars to donuts he knows.  If you’re sure he doesn’t have any idea about your blog maybe it’s just the way you’re acting.  Maybe you’re sending out a vibe.”

“Huh, maybe you’re right,” Emily said, thinking that theory made more sense.

“Why don’t you test him?  You’re always late and he hates it right?  I mean, isn’t that one of your main fantasies?  That he’ll spank you for keeping him waiting?”

“Ssssh,” Emily said, frantically looking around to see if anyone had heard them.

“Oh stop. No one cares,” Sam said.  “Tell him you’re getting off early and you’ll be home at 5:30, then show up at your usual time.”

“Oh my gosh. That will really piss him off,” she said, a wicked smile crossing her face.

“Do it.  Show up really late and hand him the hairbrush and see what happens,” Sam suggested, delighted at herself for coming up with the idea.

“Ok.  I will,” Emily agreed.  “Oh my gosh,” she repeated, and then let out a little squeal.

At 6 pm, as Emily left the boutique and headed for home, she was tempted to call him.  She was feeling guilty. He’d been really happy when she’d called and told him she’d be home early.  Now the whole scheme just felt stupid. She desperately wanted to let him know things had changed.  It was the considerate thing to do.  But if her plan had any chance of succeeding she couldn’t.  As she pulled into the parking lot of the drugstore to buy the hairbrush, she felt a nervous chill prickle down her spine.

But there was something Emily didn’t know. When she had called Scott informing him she would be home early there was something in her voice that gave him pause.  He knew her – knew her intonations – and he decided to check out her story.

At 5:30 he called the store.  He knew Suzanne answered the phone 99% of the time.  Emily was almost always out front with the customers or working on her displays.  He’d told Suzanne he was planning a surprise for Emily and asked her if Emily would be leaving on time.  As soon as he heard the truth, that Emily was leaving when the store closed, at 6, he planned his own visit to the drugstore to coincide with hers.

Emily walked into the brightly lit pharmacy and glanced around.  It wasn’t as busy as she expected it to be, just a few people, like her, stopping in for bits and pieces on their way home from work.  She was walking toward the beauty department when she stopped in her tracks.  Scott was walking towards her, hairbrush in hand.

“Hey Bunny,” he said, walking up to her smiling.

“I – uh – don’t understand?  I was coming here to buy that for you,” she stammered.

“And I beat you to it.  When you weren’t home by 5:45 and you hadn’t called, I figured you must have got hung up at the shop and would probably forget.  So I figured I’d just run out and pick it up myself,” he explained, casually turning down an aisle, taking him from the main area of the store.

“Oh.  Well, ok then,” she answered, falling into step beside him.

“Did you get the Thai food,” he asked, continuing to walk in the opposite direction of the doors and check out at the registers.

“I did. I got it at lunchtime when I met Sam,” she replied quickly.

“Really?  You’re having it twice?” he asked. 

Damn.  Why did I tell him that?

“Oh – um – Sam really needed to talk to me about something so I had to meet her.  I don’t mind,” she declared, waving her arm in the air.  “It’s fine.”

“I see,” he said, turning again and heading toward the very back of the store.

“So, home then,” she declared, still following, wondering where he was going.

They had reached the swinging doors that lead to the stock room and public restrooms. 

“Come with me,” he said, blithely, as he pushed through them. 

A quick glance around the open area told him they were alone.

“What?  Why?” she asked, following him, her curiosity peaked.

“Remember how I described this to you on the phone today?” he said in a hushed, gravelly voice, holding up the hairbrush.

She could feel her face redden and her pulse quicken.  She didn’t quite know what to say – or do.

“Uh huh,” she stammered.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he said, taking hold of her elbow.  “The fact is you were going to be very late home tonight and you didn’t call me,” he said, leaning forward and whispering in her ear.

What’s he doing?  OMG!

“Uh huh,” she squeaked.  “Really sorry about that.”

“If it’s good enough for husband’s in the 50’s I think it’s good enough for boyfriends today!” he exclaimed, “and I think your lack of consideration calls for a swat,” he announced.

Before she could respond he let it fly fast and hard, right in the center of her backside. The hot sting blazed through skin, suggesting there was no protection whatsoever from her panties and dress.  She bit her lip to keep from crying out.  It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  It was supposed to be delicious, and romantic and exciting and...

“Well.  I enjoyed that,” Scott declared, dropping her elbow.  “Next time you’re going to be late call me,” he said brusquely, and headed out through the swinging doors, but stopped, holding one open for her.

“Are you coming?” he said impatiently.  “I’m hungry.”

Emily stepped forward, shaking and aghast.  What just happened?  She had no idea how to react.  Should she be incensed?  He just smacked her butt in the stockroom of a drugstore!  How dare he!  But damn – he actually did it.  Scott!  Her Scott.  Her easy-going, unflappable, understanding, sweet adorable Scott.

Her face felt as red as her bottom and she was warm and moist between her legs.  As she fell in to step beside him, he quickened his pace so she had to hurry to keep up.  There were only two people in line at the cash register ahead.

“Bunny, you go on home and get the dinner ready,” he said, with just the hint of an edge to his tone.  “I’d like it on the table when I come in.  I’m starving.”

“Sure,” she said, still completely unnerved and happy to have some time alone to gather her thoughts – and to call Sam.  She reached her head up and pecked him on the cheek, then hurried out to her car. 

Pulling out of the parking lot she called Sam’s number.  It went immediately to voicemail.

Dammit,
she complained out loud.

It wasn’t far to their house but the short drive was uncomfortable.  She was shocked at how just one good smack could cause such an annoying burn on her bottom. 

Well – you wanted to piss him off.  You wanted him to spank you.  He did!  So what are you bitching about?  You got exactly what you wanted!

“Not exactly!” she shouted to the voice in her head.  “I wanted the whole romantic thing.  The whole, come here young lady, thing!”

She pulled into their driveway and grabbed the take-away from the floor on the backseat.  Having been in the boutique refrigerator all afternoon it would need to be heated.  Moving into the kitchen she thought about how easily he had ordered her home, and then to have dinner waiting when he returned.  It suddenly struck her that he’d never done that before.  Well, not in the same way.  Not like a command.

Quickly, she set the table in the kitchen, popped the paper containers in the microwave and while ignoring the half empty bottle of wine, reached for her favorite tranquilizer: vanilla vodka. She had learned that wine just made her sleepy and gave her a headache, but a mouthful of vodka took the edge off with no side effects.  By the time she heard his car park next to hers everything was ready, and even though she’d downed a mouthful of the icy liquor, she was still a nervous wreck. 

He walked into the kitchen and threw his keys on the center island.

“Hey babe,” he smiled at her.  “Smells great.”  Then, as if nothing had happened, he walked to the sink and washed his hands.  She moved across and stood next to him, handing him a towel.

“What was that?” she asked, staring up at him.

“What was what?” he replied, innocently.

“You know – in the store!” she exclaimed.

“That was just what I told you.  If it was good enough for the husbands in the
50’s, it’s good enough for boyfriends now,” he replied, casually, then added, “is your bottom still stinging?”

The gymnasts started bouncing around and the whole dry mouth thing was back.

“Is it?” he pressed.

“Well, what do you think?” she snapped.  She didn’t mean to and instantly wanted to take it back.

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologized.  “I didn’t mean to bark at you.”

“Don’t do it again,” he said firmly.  “Now let’s eat.”