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Chapter Thirteen
Melody
Tonight’s book club meeting had become a decorating party at Kenny’s new yoga studio slash sales room. She’d spent the last few weeks ordering rugs and decorations, and now we were going to help her set everything up so classes could start next month. Despite being skeptical, after talking to the yoga instructor who guaranteed that people would be clamoring to sign up to do yoga with goats, Kenny jumped in with both feet. She’d even paid a contractor to come out and install a half-wall with a swinging door across the room to keep the goats out of the sales area and a wall full of shelves and cabinets to store her product.
Charlotte was acting as designated driver for Grace and me and would be sleeping over at my house, and Layla and Raquel were spending the night at Kenny’s. We arrived to find Kenny and Layla in the middle of a stand-off in the yoga side of the room while Raquel looked on from her perch on the half-wall, wine glass in hand.
“What’s going on?” I asked Raquel after I set down my store-bought sandwich platter. “Are they fighting?”
Before Raquel said a word, Layla began ranting.
“You want to know what’s going on? I’ll tell you. This one”—she waved an arm in Kenny’s direction while glaring at me—“didn’t save a single receipt from all this stuff she bought for the room.” Layla turned around in a circle, gesticulating at the boxes strewn on the floor and the new wall and shelving. “It can all be a tax write off, but Kenny forgot to keep anything. Now we have to go dig through her goat garbage to try to find proof that she just spent a thousand dollars to invest in her new venture.”
Layla was an accountant and passionate about making sure small business owners took advantage of every deduction available, especially when that business owner was one of her best friends. I’d learned my lesson the first time she did my taxes when I handed her an unorganized box of receipts that only covered about half of what I’d spent on my shop that year. Now, I dated every receipt and invoice with a note of what it was for and kept them filed away in a special box with Layla’s name on it until tax time.
“Where did you throw them out, Kenny?” Raquel asked, before Layla could continue with her diatribe which we all knew would soon become a lecture on the Internal Revenue Code. “Mellie and I will go dig them out.”
I gave Raquel a questioning look, which she ignored, then nodded my head in agreement. “Let me grab a beer, and maybe some rubber gloves if we’re going through goat garbage.”
Kenny scowled at Layla. “They’d be in my kitchen, not in the barn trash. And I did save the contractor’s invoice and the shipping slips for the rugs. I just didn’t think to get the rest out of the bags from the store before I recycled them.”
“Even better. We’ll be right back.” Raquel hopped off the half-wall and laced her arm through mine before pulling me out the door.
“Don’t you want a coat?” I asked, grateful I hadn’t taken mine off yet.
“Naw, it’s not far and I’ve already had three glasses of wine. I’m nice and toasty.” She dragged me across the gravel drive and down the walk to Kenny’s back door.
“I think she keeps her empty shopping bags in the pantry,” I said once we entered the kitchen.
“Yep, that’s where she keeps them.”
Now that we were in the house, Raquel’s urgency to retrieve the receipts disappeared. I turned to find her leaning against the counter, watching me dig out the bag of bags.
“What’s going on, Raquel?” I asked as I pulled out a bag and searched for a receipt. “You’re being weird.”
“Oh, nothing. Or maybe it’s something. I’m not sure.” I glanced up to find her still staring.
“Here, look through these while you try to figure out how to say whatever it is you need to say.” I shoved a wad of bags at her and went back to my own task, wishing I had a few drinks in me for this conversation.
She was silent for a moment, the only sound the rustle of plastic and paper, before she blurted, “Has Dixon spanked you? Has he told you that he believes in spanking his woman?”
I froze, and looked up at her, wide-eyed. “How do you know about that?”
“Well,” she started, her cheeks pinking, “it’s not really a secret in Walker’s Grove.”
“The whole town knows that Dixon does that?” I shrieked, unable to fathom how that was possible. Dixon told me he didn’t date women from town that frequently.
“No, no. That came out wrong. It’s not just him. There’s a pretty large percentage of people in Walker’s Grove who follow the lifestyle. It’s kind of a family thing, and if your family does it, then you know what other families do, too.”
I thought about that for a second before what she was implying dawned on me. Dixon had mentioned several times that it wasn’t an uncommon practice, but I hadn’t connected the dots to my friends. “Your family was one of those?”
She nodded. “And Layla’s and Kenny’s. It’s the way we were raised so we don’t think it’s weird, but I wasn’t sure if he’d told you yet. It’s been over a month, right? I just wanted to make sure he… disclosed that bit of information before you guys went any further.”
I searched Raquel’s expression for any hint of judgment and found none. From her taste in erotic romance, I didn’t think she’d have a problem with a relationship like the one Dixon and I had, but reality is not the same as fiction. Part of me wanted to deny and hide the truth, but she was concerned, and I owed it to her as a friend to at least alleviate her worries, even if I didn’t tell her all the details.
“Yes, he was very upfront about the kind of relationship he wants.” I went back to searching bags, finding another receipt to add the small pile I had going.
“And you’re all right with it?” she asked cautiously. “I’m only asking because if you think he’s going to change his mind, I have to tell you I don’t think that’s likely. These men who grew up with that tend to want to be in charge.”
“It took me a little to get adjusted to it, but I actually like it. It’s nice knowing that there’s someone so concerned about me that they’re willing to take a stand when I act like an idiot.”
A brief moment of silence fell, and I hoped that Raquel was satisfied and would stop asking questions, but I wasn’t that lucky.
“And have you acted like an idiot yet?” I sighed and hung my head for a second before looking up to find her smirking at me over the edge of her wineglass. She knew this was making me uncomfortable, but there was no way she’d let it go now.
“Yes, but I have a feeling you already knew that. I wondered why you three were looking at me funny at the club meeting at my house.” I couldn’t be mad at them even if I wanted to, as long as they didn’t make fun of me for liking getting my ass beat.
“We suspected, but there’s no good way to ask a friend if they got a spanking right before we arrived.” She took a sip of wine. “Although, now that we know, I guess we can just ask that question. But I bet you’ll be a good girl now, right, Mellie? You wouldn’t want to get spanked too much.”
She gave me another smirk and I couldn’t resist poking back.
“Sounds to me like you’re jealous over there, Raquel. You should find your own spanking man.”
“Hell, yeah, I’m jealous. I’d love to come home after a long day in court and have someone else be in charge. Just having someone who takes an interest in what I’m doing would be nice. I bet Dixon wants to know everything about your day and what you’re doing.”
I chuckled. “Yes, he does. Sometimes to the point that it’s annoying.”
“He doesn’t abuse you, does he? Cause I’ll kick his ass.”
“No, nothing like that. He’s just very tuned into my emotions and my avoidance techniques. It’s good, but different. We’re very open and honest with each other, and if I try to hide something, it doesn’t turn out well for me in the end.”
“And you’re happy? He didn’t pressure you into this?” Raquel pressed. I appreciated her looking out for me more than I could express.
“Yes, he was clear about what he wanted, but I was, and still am, free to leave whenever. He’s big on consent and wouldn’t do anything without me agreeing. It’s kind of strange, though I’m getting used to it, and it’s kind of nice… and it’s really hot after everything is done and over with. Having him care about me and take charge and hold me accountable…” I trailed off as I recalled some of the highlights.
“Okay, okay. You’re getting me all hot and bothered,” Raquel said, fanning her face. “I just wanted to make sure you were informed and in agreement, and now that I know, I will reassure Kenny and Layla and we’ll leave you to live your spanking lifestyle while we dream about strong, dominant men.”
I laughed at the thought of Kenny taking orders from a man, or even Layla. “Somehow I can’t see either of those two being okay with getting a spanking for forgetting to lock the door.”
“You’d be surprised at what those two fantasize about,” she said, returning to searching bags for receipts. “But I think you’re right that the reality might not be what they bargained for.”
Sensing the conversation was over, and grateful that it was, I went back to the task at hand.
