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"We're going to be married Daisy, as soon as I have a decent leave and can arrange things. It'll be getting easier to have time to write and call, but I don't, now you hear me well, I don't want you coming down here again. Unless I send for you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Joseph."
"I could still work up another good spanking, but I don't want to waste the time we have left being angry. If we were going to be together for a few days, I'd have you over my knee at least twice a day for the shenanigans you pulled." His eyes bore into me, "you had better behave, because next time, I will not forget the hairbrush; and you'll have the devil of a time sitting down for a week, I'll blister your bottom so hard."
"You did very well for yourself today," I reminded him, as I squirmed uncomfortably on the bench.
"I hope it burns ALL the way home. Maybe then you'll remember, and think twice the next time you think you want to go running off on a whim.
I wanted to explain myself again, but I bit my lip knowing that he would not be pleased, after he'd already made himself very clear.
"We are going to get married?" I said changing the subject back to a much more delightful topic.
"Absolutely. But if ever there was a time to be patient, now is the time. You've got to grow up, be brave and pray a lot because everything is moving very fast." He had his arm around me, holding me. The sunshine had reached into the glade where we sat, and all the cold shiver
s at such talk seemed to be "warmed" away in a few brief seconds. Nothing else mattered, just Joseph and me. I felt as though eternity was spent in that time, an eternity that I would hang on to forever.
I didn't cry as I waved good-bye to him on the bus. I watched his face disappear as the big coach pulled away from the station, and then turned the corner on its way back home.
I didn't cry all the way home, it already seemed as if I'd cried enough while Joseph spanked me. And while those tears were justified in immediate response to the pain on my bottom, the feelings I had leaving Joseph at the bus station wouldn't be well served by tears. My life with the man I loved so dearly— so bright and promising as it seemed—is destined to be filled, at least for a while, by the melancholy of sad partings, thrust upon us by a time that is fated for such unrequited longing.
Tony closed the journal, just halfway through Daisy Markham's chronicle. It was all he needed to read that afternoon, and indeed it had taken up the better part of his day.
He heard some birds squawking just outside the window and thought that there was likely a bird's nest in the corner of the roof. Melanie would likely react to his cleaning them out, so he decided to let them stay. They'd keep her company, he supposed.
Leaning back in the dusty old armchair, Tony thought for a moment about the surprising journal he still held in his hand. Then, after thumbing through the pages one more time, he carefully stored the book away in the trunk's secret compartment. Closing the lid, he pushed the creaky old piece back where it belonged.
Realizing that his stomach was growling from lack of food, he decided to go downstairs and open a can of soup.
Chapter Five
Melanie looked out at Nell's lovely backyard and its manicured garden, thinking how her own garden at home might look one day. It certainly didn't come close to resembling this beautiful one, though in her mind she could see it all perfectly arranged, just as her Aunt once had hers so perfectly arrayed.
Yet, she wondered what price she might be paying to have this little piece of perfection: her Aunt Daisy's estate restored to its once immaculate state. Two days before, she and Tony had another major donnybrook. The two of them engaged in the worst screaming fit of their four year marriage—all concerning the house, the gazebo and the estate's endless need for repair.
Days before their argument, Melanie had promised Tony she wouldn't be stepping foot in the rotting gazebo where she'd injured her leg. And on the whole, she'd kept her promise. But a quick excursion through the decrepit old structure with one of the workmen she'd hired led to another near disaster, and another raging war of words and wills between Melanie and her hotheaded Italian husband. The fight wasn't just about the gazebo, but about the status of things in general around the house. The workmen that Tony so desperately wanted there to complete the renovations were consistently making matters worse. Tony was blaming Melanie—she thought unfairly—for not keeping things under control. In all fairness, she had often been indecisive and cranky and then given to "running away" to the attic to bury herself in her Aunt Daisy's fascinating world. But she could hardly be held responsible for the huge hole in the hallway door, the one half missing wall in Tony's office, and the general chaos that reigned all day long, making it even more difficult for Tony to work.
He was furious, she was furious, and it made Melanie cringe now thinking of the horrible things they'd said to each other.
The tension between them at the end was so unbearable, that Melanie couldn't imagine spending the night under the same roof with the man she was suppose to love. Already spending two nights on the living room couch, because she refused to spend them in their bed, had only made Tony more furious. But how the hell was she suppose to be physically close to him when they were warring at every turn!
Another night like the last few was impossible, so she packed her bags and left for her sister's house.
Melanie went over the last few days a dozen times and the situation never looked any better. The same horrible impasse stared her in the face; the same anger in Tony's handsome features confronted her when her eyes were closed; and the same basic conflict over meeting their needs seemed to loom at her with no solution apparent.
To make matters worse however, the one wildly unimaginable thought that appeared so boldly in Aunt Daisy's journal loomed menacingly on the horizon, as one solution still possible for she and Tony. She couldn't fathom how this answer could really change things between them, but somehow she thought in some miraculous way, it might just be a cure for what ailed them in their marriage. Melanie shuddered thinking of an argument ending in a spanking, the whole idea made her hotly excited. Not only did she think of it as some magical solution to their domestic problems, introducing punishment into the equation of the marriage, but she found the whole idea very erotic. She had no idea why the thoughts of Tony paddling her bottom would arouse her so much, but she knew they did. And . . . if she read between the lines of Daisy's Markham's journal, it had sexually aroused her Aunt as well!
Melanie missed the journal, it was the one thing she wished she'd brought from home on this brief vacation from her life. But she'd left so quickly, she hadn't even thought about it as she hastily packed under Tony's watchful glare. He wasn't at all happy about her leaving.
"You may think you can run out on your problems Melanie, but you can't. I'll grant you a breather for a day or so, but you'd better come back with the idea of coming up with a solution, or I'll leave you and this grand old house.” He said that with particularly sarcastic twist. "And you can moon over it forever, for all I care!"
His words stung, yet his anger excited her. If only . . . .
Now lying back on the chaise lounge, in the quiet of the day, Melanie at last had some time to think about the many disparate thoughts that had thrown her into a mass of confusion, about Tony, marriage, the house, everything.
What she couldn't shake from her head was the image of herself being spanked: the thought of her husband fixing her with his dark eyes, his brows narrowing, his Italian temper wildly sparked as he ordered her to his side, then drawing her over his lap. Melanie was shivering now. How easy it was to bring the vivid picture to her mind.
She imagined the feeling, being over his lap as he drew her skirt up to her waist and then lowered her panties. She could see it in her mind clearly, as if she was able to move out of her body and view the whole scene, the picture of her naked bottom poised though wriggling wildly in Tony's firm grasp. She imagined his hand or hairbrush or whatever, coming down on her bare behind with a very firm smack. He'd continue with stroke after stroke until her fair skinned cheeks were a bright rosy red hue. She knew it would raise the most arousing sensations in her body, she could already feel it.
