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"What's that suppose to mean?" she asked suspiciously.
"We've been having a second honeymoon. These changes have done both of us a world of good. But, the little squabble we had last night, I think we need to recall this one piece of the past."
Melanie remembered the squabble, as a quick bitter war of words that was soon forgotten, at least as far as she was concerned. "Well, I don't think we need this," she said, suddenly angry.
They'd put spanking in the category of the past, with all the other things that Aunt Daisy meant; though Melanie wondered all along if this one thing might not just pop up unexpectedly sometime. For the time being, spanking was really not on their minds, simply because they were getting along so well. Why would they bother to think of it?
And yet, even now in their new home, there were times when she remembered their spanking sessions so vividly, she wondered if she really wanted to make it happen just as she had in their last months in her Aunt's house.
This time however, she clamped her mouth shut, as a sudden vicious verbal attack was about to blurt from her lips, and she squelched it, in favor of caution. She was determined that Tony would NOT be spanking her this night, no matter what she sometimes fantasized. How dare he not consult with her before he hung the paddle in plain sight. In her kitchen no less.
Unfortunately, the abrupt appearance of the spanker right in the midst of her pantry seemed to be a constant reminder to Melanie of those times over Tony's lap, and it did nothing but nag at her peace of mind.
She managed for two weeks to resist the temptation to do something about her spanking feelings; but couldn't help herself when Tony was gone on a business trip one weekend. Seeing the paddle for the hundredth time that day, she took it off its hanger, and sat down with it in the living room. Her mind was suddenly so aroused she couldn't stop the fantasies that poured into her brain. Not only did she orgasm to the thought of being paddled, but she rummaged around through an old box of stuff, and found a spanking magazine that the two had stumbled on months before. She found one of the personal ads especially arousing, striking at the heart of her fascination for this curious fetish.
***
A week after Tony returned from his trip, Melanie was working in the kitchen on an intricate concoction she was trying out for her cookbook. When Tony stormed in the door, she was shocked to see his face flushed with anger, his eyes shooting darts right toward her.
"What are you doing home?" Melanie asked.
"Needing to talk to you!" he said.
"I can't now. I'll ruin the sauce," she told him.
"Too bad," he replied. He pulled her by the arm, while Melanie frantically reached for a towel to wipe her sticky hands.
"Tony, what's going on?" she cried in the midst of her bewilderment.
"You're coming with me," he roared. He was as furious as she'd ever seen him.
"What have I done?" she demanded to know.
"You know, Melanie, for an intelligent woman, you're not very smart."
"What are you talking about?" He was leading her into the living room, not letting go of her arm, despite her efforts to shake him off. Letting go of her for just an instant, Tony pulled a letter from his coat pocket that Melanie recognized with shocked horror.
"No wonder you always want to go to the P.O. Box to get the mail," he charged. The look in his eyes was alarming.
"Where did you get that?" she asked.
"I told you, you aren't very smart. I drove your car today, so I could have the oil changed, and I found this with some other mail loose on the floor."
Melanie's face drained white.
"Please. It
's not what it seems. It's totally innocent."
"Things deliberately hidden from me are not innocent. Your shame is written all over your face."
It was. Melanie was blushing, her ears bursting, the blood pounding through her head made her hot.
"Go get the paddle, we'll settle first things first," he announced. "We'll do what you've obviously been dying for, then we'll talk about it."
"But . . ."
"You know where it's hanging."
