Subject: New Story: Intermezzo (Sp, M/F,c)kfr
From: Kfry2k@aol.com
Date: 30 Oct 1996 21:11:25 -0500
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction containing adult themes. If you are not of legal age, you don't belong here. Any similarity between characters depicted in this story and persons living or dead (except celebrities) is purely coincidental.
Maddy sipped at her ice cream soda, hitting bottom with a gurgle. She grinned up at Mike, who was sitting across the table from her. Mack's Diner was a friendly place, where couples often sat together and talked in comfort. The place had the typical diner smells: frying hamburger, bacon, and the ever-present aroma of coffee. Booths were cozy and as private as you can get in a public eatery. Mike leaned back in the booth, holding on to his coffee cup, the ever-present Lucky Strike between his fingers. He grinned back at her, his garrison cap casually pushed back on his head. As she took the long spoon and went in search of ice cream, Maddy glanced again at her husband's warm brown eyes, which were studying her as if he wanted to memorize everything he saw. Her heart melted, and she put the spoon down for a moment, reaching across the table to touch his hand.
"Oh, Micky. It's so good to have you home, even for a little while. I've missed you so." She said lovingly, her baby blue eyes growing softer.
Mike put his hand over hers, looking down for a moment as if he didn't trust his own emotions. Finally, his head came up to meet her gaze.
"I missed you too, princess," He told her in a voice that almost broke, "I can't begin to tell you how much."
The lovely blonde, her face flushed with emotion, squeezed her husband's hand and then returned to her ice cream soda. She kept eyeing him as she ate, noticing that he never took his eyes off her, photographing every move and nuance of her behavior. It was unnerving, but not unpleasant. She squirmed just a tad, sitting, as she was, on a fairly warm bottom. About two hours ago, Mike had warmed it for her, slapping the cheeks of her bare behind as she lay across his knees, loving every stinging spank from his palm. They had made love afterward as they usually did, with extra passion created by their separation while Mike was in Army flight training.
* * *
With her hair tied up in a scarf, Maddy was vacuuming the living room when the doorbell rang. "Probably some door-to-door jerk trying to sell me what I've already got," she thought, shutting the cleaner off. Usually she peeked out the curtains, now that Mike was away, but she was in a hurry, and it was daylight, after all. Yanking the door open, she blurted,
"Okay, what's on sale...." and froze in mid-sentence.
Standing on the front steps, looking thinner and a little sheepish, was her handsome husband, in uniform. His garrison cap was pushed back, and a cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth, Bogart style. Looking pleased with Maddy's surprise, he quipped,
"Forgot my key. Got a beer?"
The next instant he had to quickly get rid of his cigarette as Maddy literally leaped on him, covering his face with kisses, nearly strangling him in the process.
"Whoa!" he said, pushing her off after a flamingly passionate kiss. "Let's do this right. Can I come in?" he joked.
Maddy laughed, the merry, melodic sound that always grabbed him, and then fussed at her hair. Mike followed her inside, picking up his flight bag, and heard her complain,
"I'm a mess! Look at me! Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
"I wanted to surprise you, pumpkin, and I caught a ride with some guys from the station." He replied, and then added,
"Besides, you always look just beautiful."
She cried then, putting her arms around his neck and letting out all of her loneliness and frustration, clinging to him as if she could become part of him through sheer will. Mike just held her tightly to him, swaying her gently from side to side as she stood on her tip-toes, crying and hugging him fiercely. At long last, Maddy pulled away, wiping at her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand. Mike marveled at how she even looked beautiful with her face all red from crying.
"How - how long are you home for?" she asked hesitantly, almost afraid to hear his reply.
"Three day pass." He said gently, adding, "we've got this afternoon and all day tomorrow. I'll have to leave on Sunday morning."
Her face clouded, then brightened.
"Can we drive into town so I can show you off?" she wondered, looking like a school girl.
"Sure." he answered, grinning at her obvious pride and pleasure.
With a mischevious look, the pretty blonde took off her scarf, shaking out the lustrous mane underneath, and she intoned softly,
"There's something you need to attend to first, mister Willis."
"Yeah?" he said, in an inquisitive tone of voice, cocking his head to one side, "What's that?"
"Your wife has been very naughty, and needs a good spanking." Maddy said accusingly, her eyes growing serious. A hint of a smile played on her lips as she saw him take the bait.
"What makes you say that?" he asked, playing along.
"There were at least two days while you were gone that she didn't think about you at all for a whole hour!" Maddy admitted, looking outraged, her hands on her hips, lower lip pushed out in a pronounced pout.
"Well, well," he remarked seriously, "I guess I'll have to take drastic action."
To Maddy's delight, he took her by the arm and led her over to the old leather sofa, where he sat and hauled her across his lap. She thrilled as he flipped up her skirt and hauled down her panties, baring her bottom to be spanked. Protesting for effect, she began yelping in earnest as his hard palm smacked the twin cheeks of her lovely bottom over and over again, turning them a remarkable shade of rosy red. She could feel his excitement pressing against her, and was really getting hot by the time his hand stopped spanking and turned to other, more delicate matters.
The spanking over, Kilroy peeked his black and white head around the corner of the easy chair, watching with disinterest as the reunited couple became truly reunited, coupling in a frantic tangle of arms and legs on the living room floor.
The radio in Mack's Diner had Dinah Shore singing "A Boy in Khaki, A Girl in Lace", a new tune of the type that was sweeping the country, spawned by America's involvement in the war. Finishing their drinks, Mike and Maddy departed, getting a wave and a crisp salute from Mack, the proprietor, an ex-Navy man who was too old to enlist. Hand in hand, the two walked down Main Street, Mike certainly in khaki, but Maddy hardly in lace, just a flowered dress. It was obvious to anyone watching that they were deeply in love, the way she looked at him and touched as they walked. Autumn was in full swing, but the temperature was moderate, the California sun making everything comfortable. There were signs of the war effort everywhere, from a USO club to advertisements for War Bonds and enlistment posters. Mike stopped beside the barber shop, where a three-foot caricature of Uncle Sam pointed his finger, proclaiming "I Want You!" Maddy giggled as Mike held up his hands in surrender, saying,
"Okay, Okay, you got me!"
They continued on down the street, waving at friends they saw, Maddy proud as could be of her handsome Micky. She clung to his arm, leaning happily against him as they walked. Reaching the park, the two sat on a bench near the central fountain. Mike tossed a penny in for luck, amd Maddy made a wish.
"What did you wish for?" Mike asked, putting his arm around her.
"Can't tell." Maddy scolded, "Might not come true."
She turned her face up to be kissed, and Mike obliged, turning a simple kiss into a longer and more passionate embrace than either of them intended. They sat for a time in simple silence, holding hands and watching the water of the fountain cascade into the pool below. Birds came to drink and bathe, the occasional leaf fluttered down from above, landing to float on the surface, carried in circles by the currents. Though neither spoke, they both felt just like those leaves, surrounded by beauty and yet pushed in many directions by currents they couldn't control.
Sunlight streamed in the bedroom window, rousing Mike from sleep. He stretched luxuriously, hands over his head, appreciating the large bed. Army beds were of a size: small. Spreading out, he rolled over where Maddy usually lay, the spot now empty. Width was a luxury not afforded by Army bunks either, they were all narrow. Burying his face in the sheets, Mike breathed deeply, taking in all the scents. There was a hint of Maddy's understated perfume, and the heady fragrance produced by her own body chemistry. It dizzied him, his brain whirling in amazement and delight at the thought of the lovely creature who was his wife and loved him so much. He flopped onto his back, enjoying his sleep-in. Army life was early rising, five A.M. Drifting back to sleep, Mike was happier than he could remember in a long time. It sometimes takes the loss of something, even temporarily, to make you appreciate it.
Tantalizing smells assaulted his nostrils. He kept his eyes tightly shut, afraid of where he might wake up. He must be home, Army cooking doesn't smell this good, he reasoned silently. Peeping with one eye, he saw the love of his life, his darling Maddy, standing over him with a breakfast tray.
"Morning, sleepyhead." She said brightly, waiting for him to sit up so she could set the tray down. It contained pancakes, eggs, sausage, toast, orange juice and coffee, all the aromas combining to make his mouth water.
"Hi." He said sleepily, blinking at her, a bit dazzled by the sunlight streaming through the curtains.
"Beautiful and a good cook. How lucky can a man get?" he complimented, reaching out to grab her behind the neck and pull her in for a kiss.
There was enough for two, so they shared the contents of the breakfast tray, feeding each other and getting sillier as they went. Mike could see what was happening long before it actually escalated, but eventually a food fight developed, and the two wound up wearing the remains of their meal, laughing and giggling in the wreckage of their bed. Maddy leaned over and whispered something in Mike's ear, pulling back with a sly smile.
"It's just as much my fault as yours," he said, making a sweeping gesture at the messy bedclothes.
"But I started it, and I ought to be punished." Maddy affirmed.
Before Mike could reply, Maddy had draped herself across his lap on the bed, pulling up her nightgown to reveal the stunning bottom that Mike enjoyed warming so very much.
"Okay, kitten, but I don't think it's fair." He said as he pushed up his pajama sleeve in preparation.
Maddy looked foxily back over her shoulder at him, winking as she suggested,
"Maybe I ought to give you one, too." Then laughed merrily, a sparkle in her eyes.
"Not a chance, bright eyes." Mike mugged in an imitation of Humphrey Bogart. "This only works one way."
Frowning slightly in mock disappointment, Maddy's eyes widened as she saw her husband's hand descend, smacking her smartly on the bare rump. She was soon crying just as she always did, her bare hindquarters ablaze as Mike spanked and spanked and spanked, pausing every now and then to scold her and rub her fast-reddening cheeks. Maddy moaned as his hand massaged her smarting bottom, grinding her hips into him, becoming more aroused as the spanking continued. At the proper time, Mike released her, and they tumbled together on the disheveled bed, now partly buffet. They explored all the options, feasting on each other's bodies like hungry animals, even finding an interesting and stimulating use for the remainder of the pancake syrup. Sunday dawdled on, each minute bringing them closer together, their love sewing up the rent that separation had produced. It was a temporary repair, but serviceable.
* * *
There is a verse that goes "Home is the sailor, home from the sea, and the hunter home from the hill." In every soldier's soul there lives a portrait of home. Family, lovers, friends, familiar places. It is what keeps them going, the thought of return, of becoming once more a part of the cherished tapestry of their normal lives. Warriors on leave wrap this tapestry about them when they return to war; a talisman against the solitude of combat.