Chicago by Matt for Linda – (medium, M/F, Erotic Discipline, heavy) – February 2000
Copyright by Matt Anglen et. al. 2000 - please do not copy, distribute or re-post without permission
Chicago
The late-winter dark makes the street all the less attractive as Linda picks her way through the re-frozen slush. Parking and leaving the car, she is hit by a nasty blast of Artic air, tightening her coat protectively. She walks up the steps cautiously, the tar-paper treads keeping her safe if she is careful.
The door opens before she can ring the bell, reminding her of her tardiness. She steps quickly into the small entryway , which is no warmer than outdoors, though out of the wind. A beckoning hand demands her coat and cold adds to the stiffening of her nipples under jacket, blouse, camisole, and bra. The door into the living area is still closed. Is there someone here? Linda wonders. Am I that late, interrupting, intruding, has there been a snag in our plan?
Matt opens the door for her and she enters the parlor, as he still calls it. It is noticeably cooler than normal, this room that is usually warm in winter, although that is not what causes her to sweat when she is in it.
“We’re short on time,” he intones, confirming her schedule, not his.
“Yes, I’m expected for dinner, I’ll have to leave at seven,” she explains, going on to report, “and I’m twenty minutes late.” She faces him so that he’ll know she’s sincere. “I’m sorry. I didn’t try to make it up on the road, just like you taught me.” It had been hard, being careful, but he wants her to take care of herself, even when it means cutting their little sliver of time from an hour to forty minutes. He is waiting for her breakdown. “Um, five... well, seven minutes are mine, I was talking. And I missed the corner in the dark, I guess that’s two.”
“So you’re up to nine and eleven,” he tallies. Linda nods, that is fair. “We’ll deal with it in the middle, that’s where it will best fit.” He pauses for a moment to look at her. “It’s so good to see you again. Remove your skirt?”
This is an easy task and she does so immediately, laying it on the back of the couch almost without taking her eyes off of him. In addition to her suit, she is wearing black Winteralls, largely for warmth in the short skirt, though she also knows how much he likes them. Taking a shoulder in each hand, Matt studies her for a moment as she closes her eyes and offers her mouth. He kisses her firmly, one forearm running up the center of her back and pressing them tightly, momentarily, together.
“Since we’re in a hurry,” is all he says, sitting suddenly in the chair positioned for their purpose. She is immediately in position for him, and he begins to spank her rhythmically with his hand. Almost instantly she’s squirming, and his free hand clamps first her hip, and then the wrist of her back-flung arm as she grimaces.
“Linda!” he asks with surprise, “What is this?”
“I... I had my husband punish me this morning,” Linda gasps, as her usually brave demeanor fails to make an appearance.
“Oh? What did you do wrong?” Matt asks, ready to add an item to this evening’s list.
“Nothing, really....”
“Really?” he presses, continuing his treatment despite her soreness.
“Really! Oh, oh, oh that already hurts!”
Curious, he stops short - that is all he wants, a little response. Standing her up, he waits for an explanation.
“I... well, I staged a tantrum in the bathroom and he gave me the wooden paddle, you know how he does,” Linda started.
“Go on.”
“Then I said that since he was a bully, why didn’t he just use his belt.”
“So he did.”
Linda nods and swallows hard. A paddled, strapped bottom won’t surprise her husband on her return tomorrow. Indulgence from Matt, however, is too much to expect - she’ll get her full dose from him, too.
“Did you make love to him?
“Um, no, the other thing.”
“I see.” He moves closer and takes her chin in his hand. “Linda, you’ll do the same again as soon as you see him. Any problem with that?”
“No,” she assures him. He grins slightly and she receives a light peck on the lips.
He steps to the table and slides open the drawer. “I’ve turned the heat down so you won’t sweat in your suit,” he informs her, his voice tinged with regret. Turning back to her from picking up the paddle, Matt gives her a withering, questioning glance.
“I need these,” she whines, for, though her tights are gone, she’s wearing panties. Spinning quickly, she offers her bare bottom. “See? They’re thong. They won’t make a bit of difference, really. I have to keep them on,” she adds hopefully.
“You want to be spanked with your panties on?” He asks as she nods with enthusiasm. “Very well, you’re in a hurry, aren’t you?”
Returning to their previous positions, Linda barely has time to see this evening’s paddle - small, thick, wooden, with a thick rubber pad on one face. She’ll prefer that at first and regret it later, she knows - except that Matt starts out quickly, firmly, and it is not long at all before the wicked sting of the rubber has caught up with her. She’s much sorer than she realized.
“Um, um, um....”
“Had enough already?” Matt asks, surprised. Linda nods shortly but quickly, energetically, not wanting her reply to be mistaken.
“Up, quickly, please.” Soon she is standing in from of his seated figure - a little embarrassed by tonight’s sensitivity, whatever the source.
“Ready for me to take your panties down and start on my spanking?”
“What!?! Um, no!” Then, being pulled back over his lap, she cries, “No! Please! I can’t! Not tonight!”
Calmly Matt reminds her that he doesn’t spank with panties on, if she wants one that is fine but he has plenty more for her without. By now another two dozen have landed, the sting increasing with every one - and she knows he won’t allow “his” to be shorter than “hers.” Humiliated as she is, she agrees, somewhere in the third dozen, and he goes on for one more after that. She has almost risen when she says “But let me take them off” - usually he makes her - and this causes her to be grabbed and held in this half-way position while she gets two more sets she can’t afford.
“Well, since you paid the price, you can take them down yourself - I’ll get even later,” Matt warns, his voice full of an evil grin.
Feeling more self-conscious than she did even the first time she had to bare herself for him, Linda slips off the little wisp of panties, panty liner and all. Matt seems to pay no attention except for how quickly she can get back over his lap. She grasps the rung of the chair once again to control her hands and “his” spanking starts almost immediately. Swat after swat seems alarmingly familiar, and she realizes that he was planning this all along! Somehow knowing what’s coming is worse than not knowing, especially since he’s about to get to all those sit-spot ones! Just before he does, he pauses for an instant to tip her a tiny bit further forward, and she nearly screams in anticipation!
“Shhhhh,” he commands her, “Almost warmed up.”
Linda tries not to count all the swats she won’t have gotten if she’d at least given in the first time he stopped. Oh, they hurt - ow. But she’s pretty sure the two spankings will match, it’s almost over. And though it leaves her panting, cringing, and worried about crying, she makes it through.
“Up, please, over. Time for tardiness.”
This is where she really didn’t want her panties off, but I guess it can’t be helped, she tells herself. Foolishly still protecting her modesty as she rises, she stands (wriggling quite a bit) and bends toward the floor. Matt is fetching the long paddle and calls to her, “Feet together.” She gladly complies, bending her knees slightly, not being quite as flexible as she would like.
The long paddle is large but thin, burning without beating, not even as bad as the rubber-faced paddle she just endured.
“If you say you’ll be here at six and you’re detained, of course you have to be paddled some,” Matt reminds her in a bored voice, and with a whoosh of air a sharp sear races across her much reddened buns. The paddle returns steadily while Linda inhales on each absence, eleven swats absorbed with a few swallows and a little self-pity. So far nothing is close to as bad as this morning’s paddling.
“And nine. Seven for talking,” Matt pronounces, no escaping the blame for that. “Feet well apart, please. Breathe?” At his command her muscles relax slightly into this position. “And farther apart. Very good. Now, toes set, turn your heels out? Hands closer.” As she moves her hands all the closer to her feet, bending all the tighter, the whole panty issue seems completely ludicrous. Of course, had he let her keep them on, this is just when she’d be most grateful...
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Linda comments as Matt belts the first stripe across her poor stretched buns. She repeats this remark with little variation as the first seven arrive on target. In this position she can’t help but notice the weight shift from Matt’s back foot to his front with each swing. Even the last two, noticeably lighter, are difficult to accept, her legs shaking badly in her torment.
“Stand.”
Moving her heels in, then her feet, Linda prepares to rise, gasping, blinking, while Matt stoops to take her elbow and she leans into him slightly. Already he’s holding a glass of chilled white wine - he must have brought it in when he got the paddle.
“Drink this. We’re in a hurry.”
Shaking her hair back, she smiles at him and drains the glass in a swallow, as he loves to see her do. He smiles in return - he is very, very fond of this young lady.
“We have a problem,” she begins.
“Yes. You haven’t done your chores. How many are finished?”
“One,” she claims, squirming with the feeling that he knows she’s lying. Too late now - when she gets home she’ll write him a letter admitting both that she lied and that really she was short three of three, but she can’t face that in tonight’s constrained schedule.
“Two of three,” he intones, “Two of three,” dwelling on her lie without comment. “How did this happen?”
“I only found out I was coming yesterday at noon, I had to pack, and my husband was around the entire time.”
“Two of three,” she hears again and has to bite her lip. “Well?”
“Sir, I need to be spanked for not finishing my chores,” Linda admits, ambiguously not compounding her lie. Matt hates misdirection and ambiguity, he will be so mad when he reads about this, oh, next time...
“Oh!” she exclaims, remembering her train of thought. “We have a problem!”
Matt looks at his watch, then back at Linda.
“I don’t have anything here to fix my makeup.”
Matt looks at her with stern disapproval, a look that she hates. She squirms more than ever, her breasts tightening at the thought of how he expresses disapproval, real or feigned.
“Fine, I’ll lay you on your back, the tears can run into your ears,” he states simply.
“My hair...” she wilts into silence as his disapproval deepens. If they had the time, oh, what would he do to her?
But as it is time is quickly draining away, he cannot even undress her fully. With an exaggerated sigh, he looks toward the ottoman and indicates it with a glance. “Hang your hair over the edge,” he commands in an annoyed voice, “and get on your back!”
Not knowing where her legs best go, Linda keeps them straight and together with her feet on the floor, but soon her ankles are in Matt’s hand and they are being raised almost straight upward. After looping his watch into the button of her blouse, he has retrieved her panties and wrapped her ankles in them, his hand gripping this thin rope of fabric. Her ankles come toward her face briefly as another light kiss is stolen, but they soon return to where he had them.
“Upright and locked position,” he demands like a flight attendant. Nails dig into the sides of her punishment cushion as she starts to receive the wooden side of the paddle. This is worse, she thinks instantly, comparing it to a full day of seriously painful treatment. Matt mixes a solid swat and a popping action but both hurt tremendously, and just as he predicted, the tears are soon running into her ears. As she bends her knees in pain it raises her bottom but Matt has everything well under control. When her bottom’s down he swats inward in a sweeping motion and when she curls up he swats downward right onto her. Now and then he mentions “two of three” and her stomach churns, she’d almost like to tell him but she can’t, and her tears increase. Maybe a weekend, or a week sometime...
Pulling her panties off, he orders her to roll over onto her hip, but keeps one hand wrapped tightly around an ankle. Not being able to believe this position, Linda covers her face with her arms and jacket, but Matt does not continue. She can feel him waiting, finally peeking out.
“What happens when you try to hide from me?”
“You make it worse,” she whines.
“Look at me, Linda. Look at me looking at you. I know every part of you, inside and out. You want me to. I accept everything about you. Now let me watch you while I finish your spanking.”
Linda curls up the leg she is laying on to curve her bottom for him.
“Is there a lot left?” she asks.
“Should there be?” Matt answers rhetorically. He will take her silence as a yes. “Be ready,” he warns her.
When the spanking starts again she tries to keep her eyes on him. He swats so hard with so little effort, large, round swats! His gaze is on her face and yet his aim remains true. She hates being watched as she cries but is anxious to please him, her hand over her mouth to quiet the sounds she is making - even so she is not bearing up well. Finally he breaks his stare and concentrates on her bottom, almost turning her over below the waist. The pain is unreal - he knows just where is sorest and only spanks there. All this time she feels no less guilty for not doing what he has asked - what she has asked him to require of her - because of her lie, her weakness, her need for more. By the time he finishes her teeth are chattering, her legs have a mind of their own, and even her waterproof makeup and this position have not kept her punishment from being written on her face. Matt kneels and grips her, holding her still, pinning, pressing her down, letting her legs flail.
He unfastens his watch and returns it to his wrist, pulling her to her feet, only so that she can collapse against him.
“How long will it take you to dress and everything?”
“Five minutes,” Linda promises. Lipstick she can do in the car, breathing will have to take care of itself.
“Clients for dinner?” She nods in reply. “I’d call them Criminal, but I suppose you consider them Civil.”
“Of course,” Linda gives him a little smile.
“It’s seven now, you’ll be five minutes behind - your fault for the nonsense with the panties. Get me the strap and put your hands on the floor, can you? Try to look straight down - don’t spoil your makeup now.”
As she’s dressing, he gently chides her, “Next time have your chores done, try to be on time, and don’t wear panties.” Helping her into her coat, he turns her into a quick kiss and light embrace. “Give me a little notice,” he goes on, “and I do hope you can stay longer.” Linda feels his hesitation in releasing her, not refusing, just reluctant.
Copyright by Matt Anglen et. al. 2000 - please do not copy, distribute or re-post without permission
Chicago
The late-winter dark makes the street all the less attractive as Linda picks her way through the re-frozen slush. Parking and leaving the car, she is hit by a nasty blast of Artic air, tightening her coat protectively. She walks up the steps cautiously, the tar-paper treads keeping her safe if she is careful.
The door opens before she can ring the bell, reminding her of her tardiness. She steps quickly into the small entryway , which is no warmer than outdoors, though out of the wind. A beckoning hand demands her coat and cold adds to the stiffening of her nipples under jacket, blouse, camisole, and bra. The door into the living area is still closed. Is there someone here? Linda wonders. Am I that late, interrupting, intruding, has there been a snag in our plan?
Matt opens the door for her and she enters the parlor, as he still calls it. It is noticeably cooler than normal, this room that is usually warm in winter, although that is not what causes her to sweat when she is in it.
“We’re short on time,” he intones, confirming her schedule, not his.
“Yes, I’m expected for dinner, I’ll have to leave at seven,” she explains, going on to report, “and I’m twenty minutes late.” She faces him so that he’ll know she’s sincere. “I’m sorry. I didn’t try to make it up on the road, just like you taught me.” It had been hard, being careful, but he wants her to take care of herself, even when it means cutting their little sliver of time from an hour to forty minutes. He is waiting for her breakdown. “Um, five... well, seven minutes are mine, I was talking. And I missed the corner in the dark, I guess that’s two.”
“So you’re up to nine and eleven,” he tallies. Linda nods, that is fair. “We’ll deal with it in the middle, that’s where it will best fit.” He pauses for a moment to look at her. “It’s so good to see you again. Remove your skirt?”
This is an easy task and she does so immediately, laying it on the back of the couch almost without taking her eyes off of him. In addition to her suit, she is wearing black Winteralls, largely for warmth in the short skirt, though she also knows how much he likes them. Taking a shoulder in each hand, Matt studies her for a moment as she closes her eyes and offers her mouth. He kisses her firmly, one forearm running up the center of her back and pressing them tightly, momentarily, together.
“Since we’re in a hurry,” is all he says, sitting suddenly in the chair positioned for their purpose. She is immediately in position for him, and he begins to spank her rhythmically with his hand. Almost instantly she’s squirming, and his free hand clamps first her hip, and then the wrist of her back-flung arm as she grimaces.
“Linda!” he asks with surprise, “What is this?”
“I... I had my husband punish me this morning,” Linda gasps, as her usually brave demeanor fails to make an appearance.
“Oh? What did you do wrong?” Matt asks, ready to add an item to this evening’s list.
“Nothing, really....”
“Really?” he presses, continuing his treatment despite her soreness.
“Really! Oh, oh, oh that already hurts!”
Curious, he stops short - that is all he wants, a little response. Standing her up, he waits for an explanation.
“I... well, I staged a tantrum in the bathroom and he gave me the wooden paddle, you know how he does,” Linda started.
“Go on.”
“Then I said that since he was a bully, why didn’t he just use his belt.”
“So he did.”
Linda nods and swallows hard. A paddled, strapped bottom won’t surprise her husband on her return tomorrow. Indulgence from Matt, however, is too much to expect - she’ll get her full dose from him, too.
“Did you make love to him?
“Um, no, the other thing.”
“I see.” He moves closer and takes her chin in his hand. “Linda, you’ll do the same again as soon as you see him. Any problem with that?”
“No,” she assures him. He grins slightly and she receives a light peck on the lips.
He steps to the table and slides open the drawer. “I’ve turned the heat down so you won’t sweat in your suit,” he informs her, his voice tinged with regret. Turning back to her from picking up the paddle, Matt gives her a withering, questioning glance.
“I need these,” she whines, for, though her tights are gone, she’s wearing panties. Spinning quickly, she offers her bare bottom. “See? They’re thong. They won’t make a bit of difference, really. I have to keep them on,” she adds hopefully.
“You want to be spanked with your panties on?” He asks as she nods with enthusiasm. “Very well, you’re in a hurry, aren’t you?”
Returning to their previous positions, Linda barely has time to see this evening’s paddle - small, thick, wooden, with a thick rubber pad on one face. She’ll prefer that at first and regret it later, she knows - except that Matt starts out quickly, firmly, and it is not long at all before the wicked sting of the rubber has caught up with her. She’s much sorer than she realized.
“Um, um, um....”
“Had enough already?” Matt asks, surprised. Linda nods shortly but quickly, energetically, not wanting her reply to be mistaken.
“Up, quickly, please.” Soon she is standing in from of his seated figure - a little embarrassed by tonight’s sensitivity, whatever the source.
“Ready for me to take your panties down and start on my spanking?”
“What!?! Um, no!” Then, being pulled back over his lap, she cries, “No! Please! I can’t! Not tonight!”
Calmly Matt reminds her that he doesn’t spank with panties on, if she wants one that is fine but he has plenty more for her without. By now another two dozen have landed, the sting increasing with every one - and she knows he won’t allow “his” to be shorter than “hers.” Humiliated as she is, she agrees, somewhere in the third dozen, and he goes on for one more after that. She has almost risen when she says “But let me take them off” - usually he makes her - and this causes her to be grabbed and held in this half-way position while she gets two more sets she can’t afford.
“Well, since you paid the price, you can take them down yourself - I’ll get even later,” Matt warns, his voice full of an evil grin.
Feeling more self-conscious than she did even the first time she had to bare herself for him, Linda slips off the little wisp of panties, panty liner and all. Matt seems to pay no attention except for how quickly she can get back over his lap. She grasps the rung of the chair once again to control her hands and “his” spanking starts almost immediately. Swat after swat seems alarmingly familiar, and she realizes that he was planning this all along! Somehow knowing what’s coming is worse than not knowing, especially since he’s about to get to all those sit-spot ones! Just before he does, he pauses for an instant to tip her a tiny bit further forward, and she nearly screams in anticipation!
“Shhhhh,” he commands her, “Almost warmed up.”
Linda tries not to count all the swats she won’t have gotten if she’d at least given in the first time he stopped. Oh, they hurt - ow. But she’s pretty sure the two spankings will match, it’s almost over. And though it leaves her panting, cringing, and worried about crying, she makes it through.
“Up, please, over. Time for tardiness.”
This is where she really didn’t want her panties off, but I guess it can’t be helped, she tells herself. Foolishly still protecting her modesty as she rises, she stands (wriggling quite a bit) and bends toward the floor. Matt is fetching the long paddle and calls to her, “Feet together.” She gladly complies, bending her knees slightly, not being quite as flexible as she would like.
The long paddle is large but thin, burning without beating, not even as bad as the rubber-faced paddle she just endured.
“If you say you’ll be here at six and you’re detained, of course you have to be paddled some,” Matt reminds her in a bored voice, and with a whoosh of air a sharp sear races across her much reddened buns. The paddle returns steadily while Linda inhales on each absence, eleven swats absorbed with a few swallows and a little self-pity. So far nothing is close to as bad as this morning’s paddling.
“And nine. Seven for talking,” Matt pronounces, no escaping the blame for that. “Feet well apart, please. Breathe?” At his command her muscles relax slightly into this position. “And farther apart. Very good. Now, toes set, turn your heels out? Hands closer.” As she moves her hands all the closer to her feet, bending all the tighter, the whole panty issue seems completely ludicrous. Of course, had he let her keep them on, this is just when she’d be most grateful...
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Linda comments as Matt belts the first stripe across her poor stretched buns. She repeats this remark with little variation as the first seven arrive on target. In this position she can’t help but notice the weight shift from Matt’s back foot to his front with each swing. Even the last two, noticeably lighter, are difficult to accept, her legs shaking badly in her torment.
“Stand.”
Moving her heels in, then her feet, Linda prepares to rise, gasping, blinking, while Matt stoops to take her elbow and she leans into him slightly. Already he’s holding a glass of chilled white wine - he must have brought it in when he got the paddle.
“Drink this. We’re in a hurry.”
Shaking her hair back, she smiles at him and drains the glass in a swallow, as he loves to see her do. He smiles in return - he is very, very fond of this young lady.
“We have a problem,” she begins.
“Yes. You haven’t done your chores. How many are finished?”
“One,” she claims, squirming with the feeling that he knows she’s lying. Too late now - when she gets home she’ll write him a letter admitting both that she lied and that really she was short three of three, but she can’t face that in tonight’s constrained schedule.
“Two of three,” he intones, “Two of three,” dwelling on her lie without comment. “How did this happen?”
“I only found out I was coming yesterday at noon, I had to pack, and my husband was around the entire time.”
“Two of three,” she hears again and has to bite her lip. “Well?”
“Sir, I need to be spanked for not finishing my chores,” Linda admits, ambiguously not compounding her lie. Matt hates misdirection and ambiguity, he will be so mad when he reads about this, oh, next time...
“Oh!” she exclaims, remembering her train of thought. “We have a problem!”
Matt looks at his watch, then back at Linda.
“I don’t have anything here to fix my makeup.”
Matt looks at her with stern disapproval, a look that she hates. She squirms more than ever, her breasts tightening at the thought of how he expresses disapproval, real or feigned.
“Fine, I’ll lay you on your back, the tears can run into your ears,” he states simply.
“My hair...” she wilts into silence as his disapproval deepens. If they had the time, oh, what would he do to her?
But as it is time is quickly draining away, he cannot even undress her fully. With an exaggerated sigh, he looks toward the ottoman and indicates it with a glance. “Hang your hair over the edge,” he commands in an annoyed voice, “and get on your back!”
Not knowing where her legs best go, Linda keeps them straight and together with her feet on the floor, but soon her ankles are in Matt’s hand and they are being raised almost straight upward. After looping his watch into the button of her blouse, he has retrieved her panties and wrapped her ankles in them, his hand gripping this thin rope of fabric. Her ankles come toward her face briefly as another light kiss is stolen, but they soon return to where he had them.
“Upright and locked position,” he demands like a flight attendant. Nails dig into the sides of her punishment cushion as she starts to receive the wooden side of the paddle. This is worse, she thinks instantly, comparing it to a full day of seriously painful treatment. Matt mixes a solid swat and a popping action but both hurt tremendously, and just as he predicted, the tears are soon running into her ears. As she bends her knees in pain it raises her bottom but Matt has everything well under control. When her bottom’s down he swats inward in a sweeping motion and when she curls up he swats downward right onto her. Now and then he mentions “two of three” and her stomach churns, she’d almost like to tell him but she can’t, and her tears increase. Maybe a weekend, or a week sometime...
Pulling her panties off, he orders her to roll over onto her hip, but keeps one hand wrapped tightly around an ankle. Not being able to believe this position, Linda covers her face with her arms and jacket, but Matt does not continue. She can feel him waiting, finally peeking out.
“What happens when you try to hide from me?”
“You make it worse,” she whines.
“Look at me, Linda. Look at me looking at you. I know every part of you, inside and out. You want me to. I accept everything about you. Now let me watch you while I finish your spanking.”
Linda curls up the leg she is laying on to curve her bottom for him.
“Is there a lot left?” she asks.
“Should there be?” Matt answers rhetorically. He will take her silence as a yes. “Be ready,” he warns her.
When the spanking starts again she tries to keep her eyes on him. He swats so hard with so little effort, large, round swats! His gaze is on her face and yet his aim remains true. She hates being watched as she cries but is anxious to please him, her hand over her mouth to quiet the sounds she is making - even so she is not bearing up well. Finally he breaks his stare and concentrates on her bottom, almost turning her over below the waist. The pain is unreal - he knows just where is sorest and only spanks there. All this time she feels no less guilty for not doing what he has asked - what she has asked him to require of her - because of her lie, her weakness, her need for more. By the time he finishes her teeth are chattering, her legs have a mind of their own, and even her waterproof makeup and this position have not kept her punishment from being written on her face. Matt kneels and grips her, holding her still, pinning, pressing her down, letting her legs flail.
He unfastens his watch and returns it to his wrist, pulling her to her feet, only so that she can collapse against him.
“How long will it take you to dress and everything?”
“Five minutes,” Linda promises. Lipstick she can do in the car, breathing will have to take care of itself.
“Clients for dinner?” She nods in reply. “I’d call them Criminal, but I suppose you consider them Civil.”
“Of course,” Linda gives him a little smile.
“It’s seven now, you’ll be five minutes behind - your fault for the nonsense with the panties. Get me the strap and put your hands on the floor, can you? Try to look straight down - don’t spoil your makeup now.”
As she’s dressing, he gently chides her, “Next time have your chores done, try to be on time, and don’t wear panties.” Helping her into her coat, he turns her into a quick kiss and light embrace. “Give me a little notice,” he goes on, “and I do hope you can stay longer.” Linda feels his hesitation in releasing her, not refusing, just reluctant.
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