His Firm Hand (13 page)

“It’s hard to believe that Kristin is a senior in high school. And as you might imagine, her entire world is all about boys right now. Needless to say, I’ve been letting Marsha handle that drama. Fortunately, Brenden still seems to like me and we hang out together quite a bit. He’s a pitcher on the junior varsity baseball team, and I love going to the games. It’s one of the perks of being able to make my own work schedule.”

“Naturally, I have quite a few parents that see me on a regular basis because of their kids. Believe it or not, you’re a very lucky dad.”

“Amen to that,” Dave replied. He took another sip of the icy clear liquid from the glass. “By the way, my money is on your
daughter
having at least one drink behind your back.” Dave looked at his watch. “And I’ll bet she does it in the next hour.”

“She does relish an alcoholic beverage before dinner on the weekend, so you’re probably right.”

“Michele won’t have time to savor a glass of anything tonight. I guarantee you, sipping won’t be on her agenda.” Dave looked over at the bar and added, “If anything, I’m guessing she’ll have a couple of shots.”

Paul nodded. “Is there a spare room upstairs that you won’t be using this evening?”

“My kids are sleeping out tonight, so both of their rooms are free. Wait a minute… you aren’t thinking of disciplining her here, are you?”

“If she disobeys me, there will be an immediate consequence for her actions.” Paul looked his friend in the eye. “Unless, of course, you object. After all, this is your house.”

“She’s your wife, but just so you know, my rooms aren’t soundproof.”

“I understand.”

* * *

Across the room, Michele and Marsha took a moment to talk privately by the fireplace. “For God’s sake, Michele, this is a trap! He knows how much you love to have a drink or two at a party.”

Michele pursed her lips. “Once again, my husband is trying to prove a point, Marsha. Look, he’s going to watch every move I make from across the room.”

“Okay, before someone comes over to interrupt our little chat, you need to tell me. What the hell
is
his point?” Marsha whispered in her ear.

“Remember when we had breakfast, and I told you about Paul’s suggestion that we try this age-play lifestyle?”

“Yes, and didn’t I say that he had another reason behind the daddy/daughter arrangement?”

“He does, and it goes much deeper than alleviating my stress level. This isn’t a trap, Marsha. Trust me, Paul is on a mission.”

“Are you going to share the explanation for this deep-rooted psychological journey you two are on?”

“I will eventually, when all the kinks are worked out. But for right now, let’s go have that drink.”

“Oh, I do love when your sassy side appears. This should certainly be entertaining for everyone.”

Across the room, Paul’s lips protruded as he watched his wife approach the bar.

“What will it be, ladies?” The bartender was wiping glasses as he looked up smiling.

“I’ll have a shot of Patrón Silver Tequila, please,” Michele requested politely.

“Would you like me to salt the rim and cut you a slice of lime?”

Michele looked over at Paul, who had just crossed his arms.

“There’s no time for accoutrements. And make it a double.”

“Do you really think you have time to drink that? He’s on his way over,” Marsha warned.

The bartender watched with an amused expression, as Michele downed the clear liquid in one gulp. Her husband, however, didn’t seem quite as entertained.

“Put it down, princess. We need to talk in private.” Paul’s tone was soft but deep as he spoke in her ear.

Licking her lips, she sadly placed the short glass on the bar as he gently took her arm. Only the people standing close by noticed what was happening and everyone smiled and raised eyebrows at each other as they watched the young couple leave the room.

“Donald Trump doesn’t drink, and he warned his daughter not to indulge tonight,” Dave explained to the small group as he approached the bar. “She was obviously testing him.”

“Isn’t it great how Paul and Michele really got into their characters tonight?” Marsha responded to Dave before widening her eyes in his direction. “Why don’t you turn up the music, dear?”

* * *

Michele sat down on the bed and crossed her legs in ladylike fashion as Paul closed the door behind him.

“What were you thinking, testing me at our friends’ party?”

“Sorry, Paul. It’s just hard to take you seriously when your hair is…
orange
.” Michele giggled and leaned back on the bed, closing her eyes. “Ooh, one large swallow of Patrón really kicks you in the ass, doesn’t it?”

“Mmm hmm.” He approached the bed slowly and removed her stiletto heels. “Especially when you haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”

Michele opened one eye and smiled. “We really should go downstairs and have a bite. I’m pretty sure the club catered tonight.”

“I think someone needs to be taught a lesson first.”

“Here? Are you kidding? The house is full of people we know. Someone might hear us.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that earlier, before you decided to take me to the edge.” Paul sat down next to her. “Over my knee,” he growled. “Now!”

Michele stumbled as she attempted to stand. “Can’t we wait until we get—” but before her sentence was completed, Paul grabbed her wrist and tumbled her over his lap.

“No, this can’t wait. You will be spanked right now,” he said, pulling her black stretchy dress just above her round backside. “I love how this fabric stays in place.”

“Have you lost your mind? Dear God, someone might walk in! Ouch!” she yelled as his hand rained down a series of hard slaps to each side of her bottom.

“This scrap of fabric you call a thong was a great addition to your costume. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so worried about panty lines.” He nestled the string of lace in the crevice of her ass, before his palm made another hard connection to each tender pink cheek.

“Owww! Please, Paul. Someone will hear!” she cried.

“I think the noise level coming from this room is entirely in your control right now,” he said calmly, applying quick, sharp smacks to her velvety skin, one to match each word in his sentence.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I was testing you tonight. I was being a brat and I’m sorry!” Her body went limp in defeat as her face fell to the bed.

Paul smoothed the hot, sensitive skin on her backside. “Look, I know you like the attention, but you really shouldn’t bait me while we’re in public. Was there honestly a doubt in your mind that I would rise to the challenge?”

As Michele’s head raised, tears pooled in her large blue eyes. “This is so embarrassing, do you think anyone heard us?”

He shook his head. “They’re making a lot of noise downstairs and it sounds like someone turned up the music. Are you ready for a hug, Michelie, or would you like to cool off over there in the corner?” he asked, patting her hot, reddened bottom.

“I think that phone call from my dad tonight set me off,” she whimpered, climbing into his lap.

“I know.” He hugged her tight and kissed the top of her head. “I’ve been thinking a lot about your relationship with him, and you need to work on resolving some things. It’s not healthy, kitten.”

She looked up at him and started to sob. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to be your problem, too. No one needs a wife with
real
daddy issues. Aren’t people supposed to outgrow that stuff?”

“Shh-shh. Just relax, everything will work out. I promise,” he soothed, thumbing her tears away as they rolled down her cheeks.

“Will you stay here while I go to the bathroom to splash some water on my face? I must look like a raccoon.” She crawled off his lap and stood up to pull her dress back down. “I don’t want to walk back downstairs alone.”

“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Ten minutes later, Paul and Michele casually walked downstairs holding hands and integrated themselves back into the crowd.

“Are you okay?” Marsha whispered in Michele’s ear.

Michele nodded and winked in response.

“Good. And I hope you’re both hungry, because the club outdid themselves with the food tonight. I’m thinking about having them cater our Christmas party.”

“We’re starving,” Michele said, smiling as she glanced up at Paul.

Chapter Thirteen

“Since Thanksgiving is right around the corner, have you thought about how you might want to celebrate?” Paul asked casually before biting into a blueberry muffin.

“Well, I have time off from school and could really use a vacation. How about a cruise? We’ve never been on one together.”

“Michele, Thanksgiving is a time for families to reconnect. Wouldn’t you rather bring everyone together here? I know it’s a lot of work, but I’m more than happy to take the on the role of lead chef.”

“No offense, but the last bird you prepared turned out a little dry. I prefer mine juicy and succulent,” she joked with an exaggerated wink.

“It’s early for such a smart mouth,” he said, checking his watch. “Just so you know, I’m not opposed to dishing out a Monday morning spanking before school, and I think we have enough time.”

“No, thanks, I’d like to be able sit in the teacher’s lounge today.” Michele stood and grabbed her school tote off the countertop. “I have an early class this morning, so can we continue this discussion tonight?”

“Alright, but just give some thought to the idea. Wouldn’t it be nice to invite your parents, Denise and her new boyfriend along with the Kurlses for Thanksgiving dinner?”

“Why don’t we fly out to California to visit
your
mom and dad?” Michele hurriedly bent over, brushed a kiss onto Paul’s cheek, and ran into the garage before he could respond.

Opening the door to her car, Michele threw her heavy black tote onto the back seat.
Why is he so intent on dragging my father back into my life? I wish he’d just leave the past where it belongs.
Settling in the driver’s seat, she turned on the ignition, heaved a heavy sigh, and put the car into reverse, backing it out of the garage. Driving past the front door, Michele noticed Paul standing on the porch with his hands in his pockets looking pensive as he watched her drive away.

* * *

The day passed quickly, and after a mind-numbing assessment on her way home, Michele finally decided that her best tactic was to act as though the morning conversation with her husband had never happened. Pulling into the driveway, she noticed their little red Miata was already parked on the other side of the garage.

Slowly opening the kitchen door, she heard a chopping sound accompanied by a tune she couldn’t quite discern.
Well, he’s whistling and cooking, so that’s always a good sign.
Quietly, she approached him from behind and whispered in his ear, “The house smells awfully good, daddy.”

His back straightened, reacting to the initial surprise. “Whoa, my rendition of
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
theme song must have been pretty loud to not hear you come in. So, how was your day, and did you give some thought to what we discussed this morning?”

Michele stood frozen with a smile. “My day was just fine, no more tiring than usual. Do you mind if I shower before dinner?”

“Sure, but make it quick. Dinner should be ready soon, and we need to have that discussion.”

“Which one?”

He put the chopping knife down on the counter and slowly turned to face her. “You know—the one you’re trying to avoid.”

Michele steeled the grin on her face, pivoted, and walked out of the kitchen. “I can’t get away with anything in this house!” she yelled with teenage gusto.

After a quick shower, Michele padded back downstairs, dressed in her new Sheepy-Time pajamas that Paul had surprised her with the other day. They were the perfect teenage cozy flannel jammies with a button-down top and an elastic lower half adorned with adorable gray and white sheep. After thanking him for the purchase, she was immediately informed that he expected her tushy to be bare underneath the bottoms!

Peeking around the corner, she saw that Paul was still preoccupied with dinner preparation. Sneaking up behind him for the second time that afternoon, she gently poked him in the back. He stood up straight and twirled around quickly. “Are you trying to send me to an early grave?”

Michele displayed her best pouty lips. “Chill. I was just trying to have some fun.”

“Try not to scare your daddy when he’s slaving over the stove, eh?” He put down the hot pan and gave her a big hug. “My, aren’t we looking nice and snuggly tonight. Do you like your new PJs?”

“Are you kidding? I love them!”

“Good. Have a seat, I think our lasagna is ready.” After setting the salad on the table along with a basket of warm Italian bread, he stepped back over to the oven and opened the door. A waft of hot air flowed, carrying the aroma of ricotta and mozzarella cheese as Paul lowered the bubbling dish on an iron trivet in the middle of the table.

“Here, let me help you.” Paul placed a generous portion of salad onto her plate before continuing with a large spoonful of the steaming lasagna.

“Thanks.” Michele waited patiently to start eating until he sat down and served himself.

“My pleasure. Now, did you give any more thought to how we should spend Thanksgiving this year?” As he looked over at her, his eyebrows slowly knit together.

Michele pushed the salad around her plate, trying to collect a few thoughts. Staring downward, she finally mumbled, “If we’re going to host a Thanksgiving dinner, I’d rather limit the number of guests. It would be easier on both of us.”

“Do you want to only invite your sister and parents? We can do that, but I’d feel bad, especially since the Kurlses don’t have any extended family in the area.”

Michele abruptly threw herself back in her chair and crossed her arms in an act of defiance. “Come on, you know exactly what I meant.”