The Spanking Follies

By Robert Livenmore

'The Spanking Follies' is a collection of fifteen short stories united in theme by romantic consensual adult spanking. The stories need not be read in any particular order, as each has its own beginning, middle, and end. Unlike many books of erotic literature, the stories have plot development, surprises, and intricate characters with plans, foibles, and often a humorous twist to their sexuality. While the stories may be classified as erotic, a more appropriate term is romantic, as any sexual references are very limited. The language and manners are upscale, relationships are long-term and supportive, and vulgarity is completely absent. While the media may characterize spanking as creepy or weird, 'The Spanking Follies' treats this BDSM (various non-traditional sexually arousing practices: Bondage, Domination, Sadism, Masochism) subset in a more positive way, often as an inducement to intimacy rather than a method of torture, punishment, or isolated sexual gratification.
Often romantic or erotic novels have dominant men while the women are submissive and innocent. The Spanking Follies neutralizes this overworked genre and creates strong characters of both genders, as when Phillip, an inexperienced young man, is tricked into entering a women's gym. The women take a break from their work outs, while Philip has an entirely new life experience.
The settings are remarkably varied. For instance, what is a sales manager to do when production is slipping? Hint: You won't find this method being used in any of the Fortune 500 companies.
Nearly all the stories are contemporary, with characters with cell phones and ability to access the internet. This is the basis for the first story where an opportunistic video producer stumbles upon a new, strong-willed actress, in an amusing way.
In a more serious story, spanking is treated as genuine punishment in a dramatic prison setting. But, consistent with the upbeat essence of the volume, even this intense story ends on a positive, romantic note.
The new game show, 'Spanking Truth or Consequences' is introduced in the tenth story. Very briefly, participants must answer tricky quiz questions correctly to avoid the paddle. Designed for TV, the ideal participants would be various cerebrally-oriented celebrities or certain prevaricating politicians.
Until now, the word 'spank' has been more shunned than even the most vulgar words in the English language, which are injected into motion picture dialogue and some popular fiction as if they were necessary spices needed to make the plot palatable. 'The Spanking Follies' takes a different approach, treating adult consensual spanking as a positive, beneficial, endearing, intimate activity.
Theoretically, this is supported by the relationship between spanker and spankee, as in the case of a schoolmaster and student. The schoolmaster has the duty to 'improve' the student, or change his behavior from bad to good, benefiting all. While there are no minors in any of the stories, some characters refer back to their childhood days when their parents delivered some very unforgettable discipline.
The Spanking Follies explores spanking in various levels of society, but carefully avoids the vulgar, obnoxious, and lowbrow, as the word 'spank' is elevated to something closely related to 'hug,' 'kiss,' or even 'love.'
The goal of this fascinating tome is to entertain and enchant by adding a new level of excitement, thrills, and humor that a relatively innocent journey into BDSM can create.
"... a talented writer with a very creative mind. The Spanking Follies is a plethora of wonderfully written, delightfully plotted stories. Although the stories all centre around the theme of 'spanking,' each offer a completely different experience and cover a wide range of genres from romance and comedy to erotica and drama. Each story will draw you in and keep you wanting more." -Jane Medbury, Quick Quill Editing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Livenmore
• Release date: Jun 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310059957

Robert Livenmore

Robert Livenmore is a man of many skills, interests, an talents who has studied drama, music, accounting, art, and business, and has worked in sales, investments, real estate, and performance arts. His hobbies include reading, conspiracy theories, backgammon, woodworking, and poker. A native of Ohio, and former resident of the Southwest USA, he currently lives in Pennsylvania with his spouse and daughters.

Book preview

"…a talented writer with a very creative mind. The Spanking Follies is a plethora of wonderfully written, delightfully plotted stories. Although the stories all centre around the theme of ‘spanking,’ each offer a completely different experience and cover a wide range of genres from romance and comedy, to erotica and drama. Every story will draw you in and keep you wanting more."

-Jane Medbury, Quick Quill Editing

The Spanking Follies, by Robert Livenmore

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or business establishments, or events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The Spanking Follies, Published by Robert Livenmore at Smashwords

Cover illustration by AveliyaDesign

All rights reserved.

Copyright 2015 by Robert Livenmore

This Smashwords Edition ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ISBN: 9781310059957

Acknowledgments

Thanks to all my English teachers from grade school to high school,

especially the one who said, in reply to It sounds right,

You’ll feel the sting of the paddle if I ever hear that again.

Also thanks to all college professors who assigned me annoying term papers,

whoever designed the Smith-Corona manual typewriter,

Strunk and White,

every author who wrote a book with a title beginning,

How To Write a -,

Wikipedia and various search engines

for making research a breeze,

the professional staff at CreateSpace,

Quick Quill Editing,

and my family for their patience and inspiration.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

1 The Model

2 At the Mall, or, Phillip and the Amazons

3 Dave and Jane, or, A Cloud of Joy

4 A Disciplinary Episode at Milbourne High

5 A Table Tennis Paddle is Not Satisfactory

6 A Visit to La Xotica

7 The First Annual, New Jersey, All-State, Invitation-Only Spanking Party

8 A Most Unusual School Board Meeting

9 A Most Unusual Sales Manager

10 Spanking Truth or Consequences

11 A Maid's Ordeal and Other Extraordinary Developments

12 The Wedding Present

13 It's Getting Serious: A Prison Strapping

14 The Mystery of the Bent Frying Pans

15 Fearsome Splendor

About the Author

Smashwords Interview with Robert Livenmore

Introduction

Consensual adult spanking is a subset of erotic practices known as bondage, domination, sadism, and masochism, or BDSM. While spanking, disciplinary or otherwise, dates to prerecorded history, spanking literature is barely more than a century old. Its golden age took place in Paris in the early 20th century, and did not grow with any significance beyond the French borders. The Second World War interrupted this, but a rebirth occurred just before the year 2000. Now, especially with the availability of the internet, spanking literature is longer restricted to only one area or country.

The Spanking Follies is a collection of short stories, each one of which has a spanking theme. In most cases, the connection is an erotic one. In addition to the underlying theme, there are dramatic and romantic developments. Romantic, in this sense, means a special loving relationship beyond the erotic. The stories are written for adults, and while there are references to sexuality, sometimes direct and explicit ones, The Spanking Follies is not, nor does it contain, pornography. There are no direct incidents of spanking or corporal punishment of minors, as this would be incompatible with erotic, entertaining, and romantic situations.

In The Spanking Follies, characters are humiliated, modified, animated, and motivated. Both genders have plenty of opportunity to have their bottoms tingled. For men, there’s the example of Phillip, who’s lured into a bevy of Amazons (Amazons in Greek mythology were large women warriors, and the term Amazons is not related to Amazon.com, the internet company). It’s uncertain if Phillip will return, considering the charms encountered versus the soreness of his behind.

The situations in which spanking arises are varied. Dom, a minor character, makes a bet he ends up wishing he hadn’t. A woman discovers her husband’s secret, resulting in dismay. Can the damage be repaired? Will an accomplished musician, enamored with the enjoyment of performance, lend her fanny to the paddle for a similar thrill?

A sales manager employs a method for increasing production not found among the Fortune 500 companies, at least not yet.

A spanker is encountered who displays excessive zeal and must be restrained, by the police no less. In another episode, high schoolers text each other about the erotic implications of the vice principal’s paddle.

A young career woman seeks to rekindle the thrill of her sorority initiation, while a school board takes the direct approach in determining the merits of corporal punishment, and encourages a budding romance.

Regardless of predicaments some characters find themselves in, the stories are upbeat and inspirational, while relationships are steady, long-term, and supportive. There is no crime, violence, destruction, vulgar language, hate, or anarchy.

Spanking has been around for millennia. It has the capacity to entertain, titillate, empower, and strengthen relationships. May the special bond between spanker and spankee inspire readers.

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1

The Model

A horn blared. Ron braked hard. It was an honest mistake if it was a mistake at all. The left turn lane was vacant, but the silver Bimmer wanted it. Never mind, the Bimmer had stopped, allowing Ron to enter the left-turn lane. He checked his rearview mirror, saw the Bimmer right behind him, and thought about the lane change he had just made. He had definitely checked the lane before turning into it. Maybe he misjudged the speed at which the silver car was coming. He did not want to cause problems for other drivers.

He stopped at the light, a few feet ahead, and checked the mirror. The door of the Bimmer had opened. He checked the other mirror. The driver is walking up on the left! Oh no, he thought. Is there going to be an unpleasant argument? Hey! It’s a girl!

Ron looked up at her from under his Gatsby-style brown plaid hat. He didn’t lower the window, and gave her a what-the-heck-do-you-want look. She made an impatient circular gesture with her index finger for lowering the window. She was much too lovely not to open the window, causing her embarrassment.

I’ve taken your license plate and am going to report you for aggressive driving. What’s your name?

A conversation at a traffic light may be a bad idea, but this light, next to the mammoth King of Prussia Mall, was a long one. It gave the young lady plenty of time for a few choice insults.

Cautiously, Ron replied, I don’t have to give you any information.

You’re an extremely rude driver. Why don’t you pay attention? Jerk.

Ron, middle manager at a software company, was tall and burly with a square face and narrow chin. His thick dark hair was mixed with a little gray creeping over his ears.

Ron detected a smile in the voice. Like the whole thing was a big joke, regardless of the insults. She was young, pretty, had a navy style pea coat with a feminine cinch. Not a lowbrow, vile, or obnoxious person. Her soft blond hair peeked out from behind her ivory crotchet winter hat. Dark frame glasses rested above ruddy cheeks and did not hide her sexiness.

Haven’t you ever noticed people like to change lanes? said Ron.

Listen, ding-a-ling, you need a spanking. A hard one. And get some glasses. You’re older than the hills. Better yet, get off the road before you kill somebody. Idiot. She hurried back to her silver Bimmer, not allowing Ron time to respond.

Ron slammed the columnar gearshift into park, opened the door, and tried to look back, but the seat belt tightened, restraining him. Damn! he thought. He unfastened it, leaned out, and shouted, How about dinner at Chili’s?

The invitation came too late. The young lady disappeared behind her windshield and the left front door slammed shut. Horns tooted from behind the Bimmer. Ron had not noticed the green left-turn arrow was now on.

The Bimmer’s horn blasted again—an additional embarrassing rebuke.

He straightened back up into the driver’s seat, put the car in gear, turned left and drove south, checking his rearview mirror when safe. He passed the upscale Wawa convenience store, wondering how long she would follow. Her left turn signal flashed and she turned into the store. Not long at all, he thought, disappointed. A few hundred feet later, he made a U-turn, shot back to the Wawa, and made a right into the store parking lot. It was a busy store and a busy parking lot with limited space. He looked for the Bimmer. There it was, right in front of the store in one of the best spaces. If he wanted to park, he’d have to go to a much worse space. He could wait behind the Bimmer. No, not good. He’d be blocking other drivers. He could park someplace, go in and grab something, anything, candy or a donut, and get behind her when she checked out. No, not good. That would be stalking, and she could be gone before he got into the store.

A car began to pull out of the space next to the Bimmer. Quick, grab the space! He maneuvered the big Lincoln to enter the parking spot as soon as it was vacant. If he wasn’t positioned exactly right, another car turning off from South Gulph Road would steal it from under his nose. The car exited and he pulled in with nothing interfering from the road. He waited. And waited. She came out with a cheery expression carrying coffee and a chicken sandwich. She turned to go to her car door, looked up briefly after fetching her keys, and saw the Town Car next to her right front door. She went from cheery to alarm, checking to see if it was the same car and driver she had confronted. Ron waved from his open window.

Alarm turned to annoyance. She came around the hood of her car and approached the window of the Town Car, just as she had at the intersection. No, I don’t go to Chili’s with obnoxious, dangerous drivers.

The smile was still in the voice. Someone really put off would sound hostile. And why did she bother to come around to his window? That sure as heck wasn’t necessary.

Ron tried a quick switching maneuver. How about Sullivan’s instead? A more expensive restaurant two blocks from Chili’s.

Sorry, you’re wasting your time. But for you, I suggest a remedial driving course. And you’ll have to go it alone. She turned to go back to her car but looked back and added, And don’t be a Neanderthal and follow me, caca brain.

Ron, disappointed, waited.

She backed out and disappeared without looking back.

Ron went on his way. For the next several hours, even while at work, he analyzed the conversation. Aside from possibly making a traffic blunder, which he wasn’t sure he had done at all, it was the most memorable event of the day, maybe even the week, or maybe even the month.

He wondered why the young woman had been willing to approach his car and risk a nasty confrontation. Finally he came up with an answer. He was driving an elegant, expensive car, not a junker or a truck with a load of trash, so the driver most likely would be a respectable person and not a surly unshaven junk-hauling type. So, no risk there. With hundreds of people around, it was not likely she’d be abducted right there in the middle of a busy intersection.

And why add You need a spanking? Such a curious thing to say. She had even added, A hard one. Whoa. What a coincidence, considering his little side business.

Ron decided the statement, You’re older than the hills, meant he, forty-one, was too old for her. In other words, she was hoping to find a nice, handsome, rich—his car suggested wealth or at least prosperity—single man, who was about the same age she was. Or maybe he was reading too much into it, since a Town Car was not a young person’s car.

Ron did sales, management, and customer service at a software company. After fourteen years with the same firm, he reached a management position and was given more responsibilities, including interviewing possible new employees. Currently the firm was seeking customer service representatives who could transition to sales reps. He had served in both positions himself and understood what skills and experience were needed. The company was growing, just as the area around the King of Prussia Mall. The economy was diverse and robust, anchored by large pharmaceutical firms.

Ron, along with a vice president, had selected eight people to interview from hundreds of resumes. Ron had an office with two windows: one to the hallway and one to the west facing out of the building, where he could see sunsets on winter afternoons as five o’clock approached. The window to the hallway had white fabric vertical blinds, but he never pulled them. The company supplied the latest technology, including two computer screens.

He kept clutter off his desk and hutch, sometimes by just tossing it in drawers. After a week or two, throw the stuff in the drawers in the trash. File letters and reports right away. It made getting organized simple. There were pictures of his open-marriage wife and eighteen-year-old son who was away at college on the opposite coast. His desk was facing the south wall where two chairs could accommodate visitors, whether cohorts, interviewees, or staff.

The phone buzzed.

Yes?

Liam Collins is here to see you.

I’ll be there in a minute. He sat, sipped some half-decaf coffee, waited two minutes, and went to the lobby.

After the interview, Ron rejected the applicant due to inability to substantiate claims on an inflated resume. He took a lunch break after three more interviews. He had brought leftover Chinese broccoli and chicken from home. It had come from Great King restaurant.

He would recommend the fifth and sixth applicants to the VP. The seventh was another case of resume inflation. One more to go.

He asked the receptionist to send the final applicant, a Ms. Doneta Ramala, back to his office.

As a courtesy, Ron stood outside his office door so he could see Ms. Ramala as she came down the hall, and guide her to his office. A minute later she came waltzing down the aisle and saw Ron. She smiled and he smiled. When she was about twenty feet away, the smile faded and her pace slowed. After a half second, she recovered, renewed the smile and the pace, and extended her right hand.

Ron noticed the slowdown and recovery, but didn’t know what to make of it. He extended his hand also. Ms. Ramala?

Yes. You’re Mr. Defar?

She was skittish, a lot different from the ordinary nervous interviewee. He was used to nervous applicants and made an effort to get them to relax. But this applicant’s look was something different.

Yes, Ron Defar. It’s very nice to meet you. He turned to enter his office. This way, please. Have a seat.

Then it hit him. The cinched pea coat. The crotchet hat with a brim. The blond hair. The ruddy cheeks. It was the girl in the silver Bimmer!

She sat. He shut the door, went around his desk, and sat in his leather executive chair. She was looking at him in a strange way, apparently wondering if he would recognize her.

Thanks so much for coming in, Ms., ah, he quickly checked the resume. Ramala. Even though he had said the name a mere ten seconds ago, he still needed to check the top of the resume again due to the distraction of meeting again, face-to-face, the Bimmer girl. He thought of the horn blasts, and what she had called him: Neanderthal, ding-a-ling, jerk, caca brain, and idiot.

It’s no trouble at all, sir. Thanks for the interview, said Ms. Ramala.

You’re welcome. I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding our building.

No, I didn’t have any trouble.

He took a breath, tried to relax, and began the interview. What we’re looking for here is someone with customer service experience who would also be willing to…

She was frozen with a penetrating stare. Or was it more of a smirk? She had to be thinking of something other than the job description.

You know what? he said. I need to ask you something. It’s not about the job or something on your resume. Do…uh, do you drive a silver BMW?

Yes, I do! She laughed, blushed, smiled hugely, turned her head to the side and momentarily covered her eyes with her hand. "I can’t believe this. It’s so embarrassing. You’re the guy in the Town Car!"

Yes, he said, hiding a smile with his steepled hands.

Mr. Defar, I think I should leave now, she said as she got up. I’m sure my behavior would disqualify me for any positions here—

Absolutely not! Please! Please don’t go. Just stay right there. He rose too, putting his hands out palms down, motioning for her to stay.

She settled back in.

Ron returned to his seat. We have a policy here. What happens on the outside, personal activity, as long as it doesn’t reflect negatively upon the company, is not a problem. So there’s no need to worry about our little…encounter.

If you’re sure…I really do apologize. I don’t know what got into me. I’ve never confronted another driver like that before in my life.

I wasn’t exactly the most considerate person myself, backtracking to the Wawa. But we need to leave it all behind and get on with this interview.

Yes, sir. Her expression indicated a resolve to move on, and she became visibly more relaxed.

Now, as I was saying, we’re looking for someone with customer service experience who is willing to meet with new potential clients.

The next twenty-five minutes went very much like any other interview, though the traffic confrontation and the Wawa exchange were not far from the thoughts of either.

I’ll let you know directly how your application goes, either by e-mail or phone. I know job seekers don’t like to be left hanging, not knowing what’s happening.

Great. It’s nice to know what’s happening, she said.

The decision is not entirely up to me. The VP and sales manager are also reviewing the qualifications of new reps. And please don’t worry about what happened before. It will have nothing to do with any decision, and I’m certainly not going to mention it to anyone.

Thanks. That’s very considerate.

They shook hands, and parted with sincere smiles.

Ron had discussions with the VP and sales manager two days later, after they had time to review Ron’s comments. It turned out Ms. Ramala was not chosen, even though Ron had recommended her. Not because she was not qualified, but because others were more qualified. In particular, the VP and sales manager were adjusting their focus to sales and travel experience, and the other candidates had more of this than Ms. Ramala.

Ron had the task of informing the applicants of the decisions, if he chose to inform them at all. For four of them, he used a politely worded e-mail. But for Doneta, he decided to call. He chose the late afternoon, as soon as he left work, when he felt she was most likely to pick up. He didn’t want to take a return call at any time when he may not be able to speak freely.

Her cell rang. Answer, answer! he thought. She picked up.

Hello?

Hello, Doneta. This is Ron Defar. From our interview.

Oh yes. How are you?

Good. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.

No, this is fine, really.

Okay, great. I’ve got good news and bad news. First the bad. You weren’t selected for the position. You’re completely qualified, but at the last minute the VP decided he wanted more sales experience. In particular, he wanted someone who’s done some traveling to see prospects. I know it’s crazy, anyone can travel nowadays.

Oh, she said. Actually, I have done some traveling.

We may be hiring again in a couple of months. New position, same job description. We’re in expansion mode. Feel free to apply again.

But you said there was some good news?

Correct. Remember I said personal activities outside of work are no problem?

Yes, I do.

I’ve taken full advantage of this policy to start my own business with a few associates, and it’s going well. So we’re looking for people to help out. It’s unusual, and it wouldn’t be right for me to explain on the phone, but I will say it pays a very high hourly rate.

What’s the rate? she asked.

Far greater than what I make per hour, though I’m salaried. What I would like to do is explain this face-to-face.

This sounds weird. I would make more than you?

On an hourly basis, yes. It’s part time, and you’d be an independent contractor, no withholding, and we pay right away. How about meeting me at Sullivan’s for a steak dinner and I’ll explain everything. You know Sullivan’s, right by where we, ah, first met?

Yes, I know. You don’t give up easily.

This is really a business thing. And if you’re making payments on the Bimmer, you’ll find it very helpful. Tuesday at seven o’clock? Sullivan’s isn’t loud, but it will be quieter on a Tuesday.

All right. I’ll listen. Just meet there. No pick up.

No pick up. Just meet there.

Okay, Sullivan’s.

Text me if you can’t make it. Can I count on you for that?

She agreed and they said their good-byes.

Tuesday arrived. Though beat from a stressful day at work, Ron felt a surge of energy when he thought about possibly adding Doneta to his staff of models.

Sullivan’s Steakhouse had an elegant, low-key atmosphere. Right next to the King of Prussia Mall, it attracted connoisseurs from miles around. Hanging pictures decorated dark wood-grain walls. Sullivan’s was expensive, but not outrageous, as some steakhouses tended to be.

Ron arrived early, ordered merlot, and sat at the bar with a view to the entrance after informing the hostess he was expecting another person to join him for dinner.

Five minutes after seven, no Doneta. Ten minutes, no Doneta. Ron felt tiny beads of sweat in the middle of his chest. He checked his phone. No messages. At quarter after seven, Ron was ready to trade the merlot for straight whisky. He looked at his wine glass and wanted to crush it. No, not good, not good at all. Maybe get drunk. He’d have to get a taxi home or call Jeannie. Seven twenty. Ron went from despair to nausea.

Hey, bud, you okay? said the bartender.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, fine, fine. Fine, he said, but it was too loud. Ron’s words didn’t reassure the bartender, who made sure his cell phone was handy—in case the impaired customer collapsed and he had to call emergency.

No more for you, pal, said the bartender. Ron’s jaw dropped. His plan B was no longer an option.

Seven twenty five. She appeared. Ron breathed a huge sigh of relief, as all internal misalignments miraculously righted themselves.

Doneta was devastating in snug black slacks, dark red blouse, a soft faux leather jacket, and knee-high leather boots. Luxurious blond hair fell over the jacket shoulders, and a sparkling dream-catcher necklace cradled her chin, lips, ears, and eyes. The crotchet hat was discarded in favor of silver hairpins. Gone were the spectacles, and the ruddy cheeks were very kissable. She attracted attention, to Ron’s delight.

She spotted Ron and he immediately went over to greet her.

Hello, Doneta. You look nice. Really nice, actually.

Thanks. Sorry I’m late.

No problem, said Ron. Far be it from Ron to make any negative comments about the twenty-five minutes of torture he had endured now that the beautiful Doneta was at his side. Ever been here before?

Never have. Looks ritzy.

Food’s great. I think you’ll like it.

A hostess approached and escorted them to a table, but Ron requested a booth he spotted, which offered more privacy.

Doneta removed her coat, adjusted her hair, and made herself comfortable on the cushioned bench.

She was on the slim side, sported an entirely adequate bustline, and was more than satisfactory for modeling.

Would you like something to warm up with? Wine or a drink?

What are you having?

It’s merlot, don’t know the brand. Has to be domestic. It’s good.

I’ll have white, said Doneta, as if to say she was not one to be manipulated.

Ron made a motion and in about sixty seconds, Doneta had some Chablis. They reviewed the entrees. She opted for balsamic chicken, and he the lamb chops. The order taker quickly removed the menus and scooted away.

Did you turn my license plate number in to the police? asked Ron.

She sipped her wine. No, I didn’t. It’s pretty hard for the police to do anything based on hearsay. Lucky you.

Thanks! I thought I was really in trouble. By the way, you have a pretty snazzy car. Is it new?

Four years old. Three liter turbo, double overhead cam.

That beats a Town Car to pieces. But…how do two cameras make the car go faster? Or accelerate more?

He held her eyes. He didn’t flinch.

She smiled, summoned all her patience, and said, It’s not cameras…it’s cam…mm…cam…I can’t remember what it is. But I know it’s not cameras.

Oh. So it’s not cameras. Double overhead cam…mm…camels?

She laughed. I haven’t looked under the hood in ages, but I don’t remember any camels.

Okay, something about cars…uh, cam…I’ve got it—Camaros!

More giggles as she lapped it up. No-o.

How do you know all that auto lingo?

My boyfriend had a similar car. But…Mr. Defar, what I’m curious about is…you mentioned a very high hourly rate?

Please call me Ron. And by the way, I apologize for making an aggressive traffic maneuver, if I actually did.

To be perfectly candid, I was going a little fast.

Let me ask you something. When we first met out there in the middle of Route 202 you said something especially interesting.

The server brought freshly made focaccia bread and olive oil with herbs.

After the server’s departure, Doneta said, I know. I said a lot of nasty things. But…that has something to do with a high hourly rate?

"Actually, yes. One of those nasty things you said was, ‘You need a spanking. A hard one.’ Is there any particular reason you used those words?"

She thought. It would be a way to…humiliate the mean, nasty, rude driver of the offending vehicle. She paused. I’m not connecting ‘high hourly rate’ to ‘you need a spanking.’

My outside activity is video production. My wife and I—

Wife? she asked, sipping her Chablis.

The server brought salads, and the dinnerware was adjusted to make room.

We have an open marriage. After twenty-one years we agreed if either of us wants to date, we can do it. But this—you and me here now—is business. Not a date, like in romantic date.

Sure. Doneta knew Ron had his romantic capabilities going full bore.

Just business discussed over a good dinner.

Of course. She stabbed her combo arugula and kale salad, and he did likewise.

We have a video production company and we need models. We’re in a growth mode, and I’m thinking about doing it full time. In other words, quitting the nine to five.

The dinners came. The discussion languished while they enjoyed their meals.

So you and your wife are movie producers.

Correct. But nothing like Hollywood studios or major features. Just something that got profitable.

Is this pornography?

No, not porn. And we’re on the complete up-and-up—legal, bookkeeping, regulations—we do it right. It’s a lot of work, but it avoids problems. He downed the merlot.

I can’t finish this, Doneta said, referring to the balsamic chicken.

We’ll get doggie bags. Containers.

That’d be great. It was very good.

All our marketing is done by internet.

And the position is…modeling?

Or acting. What we do is make spanking videos. As in BDSM, or erotic kinks.

Oh, I mentioned spanking, and you make spanking videos; I see the connection. But who is it that is getting spanked, she said with a blush, "aggressive drivers