Subject: Repost: Time of Their Lives
(Sp,M/F,con)
From: Kfry2k@aol.com
Date: 30 Sep 1996 13:51:08 -0400
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction containing adult themes. If you are not of legal age and unsure about your reactions, discuss it with your parents before reading. Any similarity between characters depicted in this story and persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
"I have a surprise for you...," Maddy teased, leaning on Mike's drafting table. Eyeing her suspiciously, Mike cocked an eyebrow and said,
"Yeah? What now?", smiling as he thought about how mischievous she could be.
Madeline had a penchant for monkey-business, which usually gave him a reason to warm her bottom. Not that he needed a reason, as his beautiful blonde fiancee loved being spanked, draped over his knee while he paddled her pretty little bare bottom soundly. On special occasions, Maddy had him use her old-fashioned hairbrush, a solid instrument of dark, polished wood. The wide, flat back delivered a wicked sting when applied briskly to bare skin, and Maddy loved it, even though it brought her to tears. Those stimulating encounters invariably led to love-making that was incredibly satisfying for both of them, so they were fairly frequent. It pleased them both, bringing them closer together in a very special way. The little pranks and jokes she played on him just spiced up the process, lending an air of delicious jeopardy to their scenarios.
"You'll just have to wait and see," the pretty blonde murmured, toying with him, "but I think you'll like it." With a meaningful look over her shoulder, Maddy strolled away towards her desk, winking at him. He watched her go, becoming aroused at the sway of her bottom, and how her shapely legs carried her confidently, her high-heeled pumps clicking on the tile floor. Mike loosened his collar as a wisp of what might have been steam came out, at least that's how it felt to him. She had the ability to get him so hot, with little apparent effort. Trying to concentrate, he went back to his work, but Maddy's remarks stayed with him for the rest of the day.
Maddy leaned on the board fence, watching from the ground as Mike put the Stearman through its paces. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she heard the engine roar as Mike pushed the plane over into a dive, gathering speed as it raced toward the ground. Her heart beat faster as aircraft and ground got closer to each other, and then the powerful biplane pulled up smoothly, the engine straining. Up, up it soared as Mike pulled steadily back on the stick, finally going inverted at the top of the loop, and then plunging back toward earth as he backed off the power, pulling smoothly out at the bottom. Gaining altitude, he barrel-rolled once and then came around in a wide, sweeping turn to rocket over the place where his lady stood watching. Her hair ruffled in the wash of the plane's passage and she pivoted to watch as he roared overhead. Clapping her hands like a little girl, Maddy grinned broadly, her smile rivaling the California sunshine. "It's so exciting!" she thought, her heart racing. Mike now had the Stearman on the downwind leg, setting up for his landing approach. Maddy was aware of all the smells common to small airfields: new-mown grass, gasoline, hot metal, oil, varnish, and the ever-present dust. The big biplane turned final, wings wagging as Mike lined up the runway, goosing the throttle as the grass came up to meet him. A slight bounce, kicking up some dust, and the craft was re-united with the earth, taxiing over to a parking area near one of the hangers. Mike grinned at Maddy as she came running up to the airplane, her eyes alight with excitement. The big radial engine kicked once or twice as he cut the ignition, then the prop spun to a halt. Maddy jumped up and down next to the plane, pleading, "Take me up! Take me UP! Please?" Grinning more broadly now, Mike looked like a `20s barn-stormer, with the leather helmet and worn jacket, goggles up on his forehead, leaving a white area that had escaped the fine spray of rocker-box grease and engine oil. His heart was warmed by Maddy's enthusiasm. She wasn't at all afraid; not of the noise, or the prospect of leaving the ground,, or of the possible consequences. If he had any doubt about their future together, it was gone now. Her eyes shone with love and the thrill of flight as she stood looking up at him, hoping he would grant her wish.
Mike looked sideways at Maddy as they rode home together in his `40 Ford convertible. She looked like the cat that ate the canary, he thought to himself. "Wonder what she's got up her sleeve?" he asked silently. There was a brown paper wrapped package on the seat beside her, tied with twine. It looked as if it had come from the company shipping department. Whatever she was up to, he mused, it had something to do with that package. All through supper, Mike was preoccupied by her intimation of a "surprise" and that mysterious package. His eyes kept being drawn to it as they ate, each time evoking a thin, sly smile from Maddy. She sat across from him at the end of their meal, holding her coffee cup in both hands, her deep blue eyes twinkling as she looked over it into his face. He was fairly bursting with curiosity. Seeing her look, and knowing she was teasing him, he finally burst out,
"All right, all right, Maddy. I give up. What's the surprise? You've strung me along enough."
She made an innocent face, setting her cup down and pretending not to know what he meant.
"Who, me?" she asked sweetly. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't give me that." He said, annoyed by her feigned ignorance, "You said you had a surprise, and then you bring that mysterious package home. Now tell me what it is."
Giving him her best look of mock defiance, she sat back in her chair and said "Make me."
Ah-ha. Now I get it, he realized. She was lobbying for a spanking, the devilish wench. Well, she'd get it, as she well knew.
"I'll paddle your fanny for you, little girl," he threatened, "and then you'll tell me what's up."
"I dare you." She shot back, adding "You've got to catch me, first."
There followed a brief but exciting chase through the house, with Mike finally cornering the saucy blonde; tucking her under his arm and dragging her bodily to the couch. As she pleaded in pretended penitence, Mike hauled her across his lap, flipping up her full skirt and yanking down her panties to completely bare her bottom for spanking. She squealed in pain and delight as his right hand started smacking the twin globes of her gorgeous bottom, her legs kicking in response to the spanks, which rained down hard and fast. From white to pink to crimson, her bare bottom grew hotter and more colorful as Mike's firm hand did its job. Soon her free hand was being held in his left, prevented from attempting to interfere with the thorough warming of her backside. Maddy never loved him more than when he was paddling her soundly, pausing at random to rub some of the smart away, and then continuing the spanking, his hand stinging even more after the interlude. She didn't understand why she loved a spanking so, but she loved it none the less, and Mike for giving it to her. When he had completely reddened her behind, he sat her up on his lap, asking cunningly,
"Are you ready to tell me now, or do you want to go back over my knee?"
Sniffling, the adorable but subdued Madeline wiped her eyes, and said evenly, "Yes, and yes." Standing, she retrieved the package and presented it to him.
Mike looked at it skeptically, and repeated "Yes and Yes?"
"Yes, I'm ready to tell you about the surprise, and yes, I want to go back over your knee." She answered in a sultry voice, husky with desire.
Sitting next to him, she undid the twine, unwrapping the package. Mike stared at the object inside. It was a piece of leather, apparently well-oiled, about eight inches long and four inches wide, with a wooden handle attached. More than a quarter of an inch thick, it was hefty but flexible.
"Phyllis made it for me in the machine shop." Maddy commented. "It's a piece of machine strap, and I thought you might like it, considering how naughty I get from time to time."
Mike's pulse was beginning to elevate. He slapped the short leather paddle/strap against his palm, shaking his hand from the substantial burn it produced. "You really want a spanking with this?" he asked, gazing into her eyes.
"Mmmm-Hmmm." She affirmed softly, adding, "And there's no time like the present to christen it." Her eyes misting with passion and the anticipation of the stinging ordeal to come, Madeline draped herself back across Mike's knees, her rosy-hued bare bottom in perfect position to be soundly spanked. Placing her right hand up behind her back, so Mike could hold it out of the way, she offered herself totally to him.
* * *
In the summer of 1941, Mike was working as an engineer for a local aircraft company. Everyone knew it would be just a matter of time before America got sucked into the war in Europe. Preparations were underway to produce combat airplanes, and Mike spent as much time as he could in the cockpit, flying everything he could get his hands on, to be ready to test and evaluate new production. Because he loved to fly, this was more fun than work, and even in his spare time he flew often, preferring a powerful Stearman biplane. He had brought Maddy with him on this particular afternoon, mostly because she was intensely curious about his first love; flying. Wind in her face, Maddy leaned over the cockpit's edge, looking down through her borrowed goggles at the ground whipping by far below. Mike sat in the cockpit behind, enjoying her enthusiasm, remembering his own first flight; the wonder of it all, the freedom of soaring high above the trees, flirting with clouds. He flew out toward the coast, paralleling the cliff edge in places, getting Maddy's attention and pointing out the familiar places: the roadhouse where they often danced, the pulloff where they parked, and a beach where they occasionally swam. Banking inland, he flew low over their bungalow, the place that had been just a place to hang his hat before he met Maddy. She gloried in the sight and sound of it. The steady pounding of the powerful radial engine, the changing pitch of the airstream in the rigging, the incredible feeling of liberation. The sun sank lower as they flew, and Maddy would never forget the beautiful big red ball hanging just above the blue Pacific, with scattered clouds for companionship. A squadron of pelicans, in line-ahead formation, skimmed across the water, headed for their roosting place. As if in sympathy, Mike headed for the grass airstrip, making a perfect three-point landing. Maddy sat in the cockpit after the biplane had come to a stop, basking in the sensory images that had flooded her conscious during the flight. She knew now why Mike flew, and would never stop until the maker of all things came to call him home.
Surprise flooded Maddy's being as the leather paddle smacked her tender rump, creating a smarting, burning sensation completely different from either Mike's hand or her hairbrush. "Owww." She moaned, as Mike whapped her other cheek, smartly, spreading the fire. Another whap, a sharp one, whacked her right where the bottom joins the legs, making her kick and moan "Ohhh, Micky." The use of his pet name told Mike she was heating up, and he whacked her soundly in the same spot on the other side, twice in succession. "Ahhhh, Owwww. Oh, Micky, it hurts." She lamented, "Please, I'll be a good girl." Maddy pleaded deceptively, not really wanting him to stop. Mike raised the strap and laid it across her upper thigh, the leather forming itself to the contour, stinging everywhere it touched. Maddy bucked, beginning to sob as the smarting overwhelmed her. The spanking went on, that well-oiled leather strap smacking Maddy's entire backside before Mike was finished. She realized it was over when she felt him massaging the burn out of her bottom, gently, tenderly, his hands exploring with the considerate sensitivity of a lover. Rising, she led him into the bedroom, where she got him quickly out of his pants. Crawling onto their bed, she remained on her hands and knees, offering herself to him in the position he liked most. Thoroughly aroused, Mike followed her, placing his hands on her back, tracing the wonderfully sensuous contours of her hips as he entered her gently from behind, penetrating her fully, which drew moans of delight from her. Progressing from one posture to another, they conducted a clinic in sexual technique, all ad-libbed.
Smoking in the darkened bedroom, Mike regarded the sleeping Madeline, who was tucked up under his left arm. She snuggled against his chest, worn out from passion. He thought how lucky he was to have a woman like Maddy; beautiful, intelligent, uninhibited and sexy as hell. On the radio, Tommy Dorsey was buttering the airwaves with "I'm Getting Sentimental Over You." Stubbing out his cigarette, he turned and ran his hand gently over Maddy's silken flank, causing her to stir and waken. She smiled up at him, reaching across to where his manhood was beginning to stir. It came to life instantly at her touch, swelling into readiness. "Present: Arms" she commanded, jokingly. Mike grinned at her, rolling her over onto her back, she bringing him to her, kissing him hungrily, lovingly.
Tomorrow they would return to work, as countless thousands of other people would; earning a living, contributing to the prosperity of America. That was tomorrow; an eternity away. For now, the night was still young.
* * *
Maddy lay next to Mike on the enormous bed, running her hand over his flat stomach. She toyed with the hair around his navel, remembering how they had made love. It had been a busy day.
"Are you going to spank me tonight?" she asked, moving her hand a bit lower.
"Why?" he teased her, feigning ignorance, "have you been a naughty girl?"
"Well," she said, moving her hand still lower, until it rested on something which began to have a life of its own, "you won't be able to tomorrow night, and what if I'm naughty on the plane?"
"That's right," he agreed, reaching for her, "I almost forgot. We'll be in the air twenty-four hours from now. Guess I'd better warm your bottom good, huh?"
He looked thoughtful for a moment, then opined, "Since we'll be sitting most of the time, I think I'd better just give you a reminder, something to hold you over until we get to Honolulu."
"But Mike," she objected, "it might do me some good to sit on my sore bottom next to you, remembering every minute how you spanked me good and proper."
"We'll see." He concluded, and she frowned a bit, because when Mike said that, he usually meant no. Mike got up to go to the bathroom, and when he returned, Maddy was sitting on the bed, hands behind her, looking innocent. As he walked past her in his birthday suit, she tripped him, causing him to fall across the bed.
"Hey!" he yelled, and then she was on him like a tiger, leaning on his back. Producing the hairbrush, she whapped his cute buns once, twice. "Owww! Hey! Cut it out!" he yelped, chagrined at having the tables turned. A girl could get used to this, Maddy thought, then asked coyly, "Sure you don't want to spank me? Hmmmm?" Another playful swat on his bottom brought him off the bed, gathering her up in his arms. She giggled, struggling with him as he wrestled her for possession of the hairbrush, laughing as she said, "I wasn't finished, I think I like it." He was laughing now, too, and finally took the brush away from her.
"Oh, no you don't!" he said, laughing, "That's too dangerous, and let's just remember who's the naughty one here." Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Mike took her over his knee. She waited, not resisting, knowing that any second the hairbrush would strike, but he laid the brush down and put his hand to work instead, slapping her behind with a roundhouse motion. The sharp slaps were soon wedded to Maddy's cries of distress and pleasure as he spanked and spanked and spanked until her behind was a lustrous scarlet and she bawled like a child. By the time he was done, they had both become so excited they fell immediately into a prolonged erotic tangle, at times barely knowing where one left off and the other began.
"....husband and wife." The minister was saying. Mike was surrounded by a velvet fog. The culmination of a brief but intense courtship had arrived. Concluding with "You may kiss the bride.", the aging preacher smiled at the young couple, watching with approval as Mike turned to Maddy and kissed her warmly on the mouth. Mike felt like he was at the start of a roller-coaster ride, right at the top of the first hill. There the two of them stood, after the long pull up the hill to the wedding, ready to plummet down the slope and into their new life. Maddy's eyes shined with tears of joy as she beheld the face of her darling Mike, who was looking much less nervous now that the ceremony was over. She adored his rugged good looks, full of life and youth but with the stamp of experience. The ring on her finger felt strange, out of place, but warming and comforting. It symbolized their union, the ceremonial welding together of two souls that had actually fused months ago. A small organ exuberantly played the traditional wedding recessional as Mike and Maddy, beaming, walked proudly past rows of friends and relatives. Rice pelted them as they exited the small chapel, running for their car. Maddy's mother was there, along with Mike's parents, to wish them well. A peck on the cheek, a handshake or two, and they were off, driving up the coast road toward San Francisco and their honeymoon. Old shoes and tin cans rattled behind Mike's convertible, tied there by his friends to announce the occasion to all they passed on the highway. Mike pulled over at their favorite scenic overlook to untie the flotsam, and they sat for a time looking out over the ocean, nestled together.
"Whoa!" Mike said, the champagne cork giving a celebratory "POP!", followed by foaming wine. Grabbing for a glass, he succeeded in catching most of the wayward bubbly, handing it to his beautiful bride of just three hours. In a silent toast, the two sipped, then kissed deeply, tasting the crisp vintage on each other's lips. "Mmmmmm." Maddy went softly, putting her glass down and taking his from him. Renewing the kiss, they began undressing each other with deliberation, enjoying every bit of their mutual strip-tease as they went. Mike warmly kissed her throat, and then her creamy shoulders as they were laid bare, moving to her ample breasts. Her slim fingers busied themselves with undressing him, and she gave a sharp intake of breath as his mouth found an erect nipple, taking it in and stroking it with his tongue. With a slight clinking sound, Mike's trousers hit the floor, and Maddy's hands slipped under the waistband of his shorts, reaching around to cup his bottom with both hands. His instant reaction made it a bit difficult for her as she worked at pushing down the now bulging boxers, sinking to her knees as she did so. His hands softly stroking Maddy's hair, Mike groaned pleasurably as her lips tantalized and excited him, raising his ardor to a fever pitch. There would be reciprocation in kind before this night was over, as the two newlyweds swept each other away on a rising tide of love.
Maddy's mom had thought of everything. Fully approving of her daughter's marriage to Mike, she footed the bill for their honeymoon, including a night in a luxury hotel, booking the bridal suite for them. Her real present, generous in the extreme, was a two-week stay at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel on Waikiki beach. At about three o'clock that afternoon, they would be boarding the "Honolulu Clipper" at the Alameda Clipper Terminal. A flying hotel, the big Boeing 314 flying boat would make the passage in about 16 hours, weather permitting. Service on the clipper was strictly First Class, with sumptuous accommodations and gourmet meals. Limited to thirty-four passengers for sleeper flights, the plane would have plenty of space for folks to move around, and Mike was looking forward to a visit to the flight deck to talk shop with the crew.
"What do you want for breakfast?" Mike called, picking up the phone to call room service.
"You." Maddy quipped, sliding off the bed and slinking up to him, taking the phone from his hand and replacing it on the cradle. Throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed him ardently. One hand descended to unfasten the belt to his bathrobe, and then slipped inside, searching for something. It was easily found, becoming easier all the time. Smiling, she shucked the bathrobe off him like he was an ear of corn. Pulling him over to an armless chair, she kissed him more deeply, her tongue working magic equal to what her fingers were up to. As he returned her eagerness, she pushed him down on the chair, straddling him, guiding him into her and grinding her hips against him. Breakfast would have to wait, she thought, maybe even lunch. His hands went to her breasts, kneading them, rubbing the hard nipples with his thumbs, gently. Maddy moaned with delight as he planted a hot, passionate kiss on her throat, ending with a tiny love-nip. Sliding his hands down her sides, Mike cupped the cheeks of her gorgeous bottom, pulling her to him, rocking her back and forth to the rhythm of the radio, which was playing "Temptation". Bringing it along slowly, they rose together to a crescendo, exploding almost simultaneously as the music climaxed. Drained, they clung to each other, stroking, fondling, sharing soft kisses and intimate words. Their honeymoon was starting well, and promised to be even better once they reached the island of Oahu. A magnificent brunch, courtesy of Maddy's mom, restored their energy, and their feeling of excitement over the trans-oceanic voyage. Maddy had almost finished dressing, and was putting on her lipstick when Mike came into the bathroom. Taking her by the arm, he practically dragged her out into the living room of the suite, not saying a word. Shocked at first, Maddy soon got the picture when she saw Mike had her hairbrush in his right hand. Leading her over to the chair they had so recently used as a love nest, he sat down, still holding her wrist.
"Since you want a warm bottom for the trip, I'll oblige you, dear." He stated firmly, taking her across his knees. Her flimsy dress, designed for travel, wound up around her shoulders, her slip bunched up around her waist. The panties came swiftly down, leaving her only protection a garter belt, and that not much. Mike admired her beautifully sculpted legs, encased in stockings with medium heel alligator pumps. She was actually a little flustered, having been taken completely by surprise. Maddy loved that about Mike. He would ambush her at the least likely moment, which was exciting. Face down across his lap, she was even more astonished when the hairbrush began to fall, smacking her bare bottom, so well spanked from the night before. "Wow!" her mind raged, "How it stung!", and she soon had kicked her gator-skinned pumps off, squirming as the hard wooden brush spanked her again and again. Before long she found her right wrist gripped in Mike's left hand, as usual, once again unable to protect her blazing bottom from the fiery sting of the hairbrush, which continued to fall until it had smacked every square inch of her upturned bare bottom into crimson glory. She wound up crying as hard as she always did, begging him to stop but not wanting that in the least. At long last, Mike stopped and gave her a swat with his hand, standing her up and ordering,
"Now, you naughty girl, you've got something to think about on the way to Honolulu. Now finish dressing, we don't want to be late."
Wiping her eyes. Maddy looked like a spanked teenager, and felt like it, too. She loved Mike's little take-charge moments. It made her feel so loved and secure. A swat on her rear sent her back off to the bathroom, as she had some repair work to do. Rubbing her smarting fanny, she completed her work, ready and waiting when the desk announced their taxi had arrived. Taking Mike's arm, Maddy gloried in the subterranean glow of her well-warmed bottom. Each day together seemed to get better and better, she thought, smiling contentedly.
The big Pan American flying boat rode to its moorings, looking immense next to the small launches which were nearby. Mike looked admiringly at her; her huge triple tail sticking way up above the fuselage, four powerful Wright Cyclone engines spaced out along the high wing. As the two newlyweds were welcomed aboard, they were suitably impressed with the luxurious layout. Designed for trans-oceanic flight, "Honolulu Clipper" didn't skimp on the finer things. Furniture which rivaled the most comfortable living rooms was present, with drapes, carpeting, and all the appointments. Comfortable bunks and private showers complemented the suites, making the plane an "ocean liner of the airways". While Maddy unpacked the necessities, Mike managed to wangle an invitation to the flight deck. Following the plane's First Officer, he emerged into an area the size of a small office; it even contained a good-sized desk along one wall. The control area was spacious, designed to make long-distance flying as comfortable as possible for the crew. Walking forward to the cockpit, if you could call it that, he looked out the windshield, seeing the San Francisco - Oakland bridge in the distance. The Captain was occupied, but took a moment to invite him back once they were airborne. Before leaving, Mike got the fifty-cent tour as a visiting aviator often did. Proud of their craft, the crew showed her off, and Mike was even more impressed afterward.
"Nervous?" Mike asked, seeing Maddy looking apprehensively out the window as the plane maneuvered for its take-off run.
"Mmm-Hmm," She murmured, "a little. It's hard to believe that something this big can really fly."
Taking her hand, Mike squeezed it, leaning over to kiss her softly. Her eyes shone with a number of emotions, and she squirmed just a bit, her bottom itching and chafing a little from that morning's encounter with the hairbrush. Squeezing back, she leaned against him for support, and he kissed her once more. Others in the main cabin looked at them with amusement and understanding, sensing if not knowing that they were just married. The power came on smoothly as four 1,500 horsepower engines roared to full throttle. Slowly gaining speed, the craft plowed through the waters of the bay, rocking and bouncing some as it encountered small swells. Maddy watched the water flash by, seeing it spray from the wing sponsons as they touched. As the speed built, Mike sensed through the seat of his pants when she was ready to fly, the huge plane now skimming across the surface, the vibration beginning to lessen. Suddenly, there was a smoothness as she lifted clear, the Captain holding her nose down to build speed. With the grace of a pelican, "Honolulu Clipper" banked away toward the West, Hawaii bound. They watched the nearly new Golden Gate slip by underneath, the remarkable engineering achievement stretching from Fort Point to the Mount Tamalpais headlands. A freighter, starting on a parallel journey, was just clearing the bay, starting to pitch as she met the ocean swells. Maddy snuggled against Mike, supremely content, no longer frightened. Putting his arm around her protectively, Mike kissed her hair softly, whispering his love.
Night over calm water is a breathtaking thing, second only to night on the water in a sailboat. Cruising along in the wide, wide sky, with the dark sea below is like being inside a huge sphere, shot full of stars, with wispy silver-tinged clouds tip-toeing by. It is nearly impossible to tell where the sea ends and the sky begins, eternity in microcosm. An elegant dinner, complete with excellent wine and friendly conversation sent Mike and Maddy off to their suite satisfied and starry-eyed. With the constant drone of the engines for company, they embraced tenderly, a bit tentative at first due to the strangeness of their surroundings. As their passion built, inhibitions fell away. Undressing each other with patience and deliberation, they seduced the moment of union, holding it at arms length until both of them were nearly one emotionally. Their foreplay was gentle and slow, like the patient stoking of glowing embers into eager flames. Even though the sleeper bunks were comfortable and roomy, they weren't designed as a proper love-nest, which required some ingenuity. As creative partners, they found a solution which proved more than satisfactory. While Mike lay on his back, Maddy straddled him, arousing him until the moment was at hand, then impaling herself, murmuring with pleasure as she moved slowly on him. Mike's hands worked at pleasuring her, touching everywhere, squeezing her tenderized bottom which made her whimper softly with remembered ecstasy. Afterward she lay partially on top of him, wanting to crawl inside his skin to create one being where two existed. Stroking her hair, Mike offered her a puff of his Lucky. Exhaling the smoke, she put her head back down on his chest, her fingers caressing one small, flat nipple. Mike lifted her arm to kiss the hollow of her elbow, then her forearm and the palm of her hand, lightly nipping the pad of flesh below her thumb. His little caresses and love bites stimulated her beyond belief, and they made love again, losing themselves in each other's bodies. Outside, the miles slid by, the dark Pacific ocean, destined soon to erupt in flame, a silent witness to their passage overhead.
Mike checked his watch as the Captain announced their arrival in Honolulu. Eight-fifteen AM. Right on schedule. As the plane banked for its approach, Mike and Maddy got a bird's-eye view of the Pacific fleet, riding to its moorings at Pearl Harbor. Busy Ford Island, central hub of the installation, and battleship row, with its dreadnoughts tied up, basking in the sun. Hawaii is a place that beguiles and enchants you, its blissful weather and sub-tropical calm creating a paradise that belies the possibility of violence. Debarking, the newlyweds breathed deeply, free of the stuffy canned-air they had lived with for the past seventeen hours. Flowering Ginger and Bougainvillea scented the warm air, carried by caressing tradewinds. Their ears still reverberated with the incessant drone of engines, and would for a few hours to come. Reaching the harbor by launch, they were welcomed by islanders with Ukuleles, presenting the traditional flowered lei and swaying hula dance. Off to the east, beyond Waikiki beach, Diamond Head sat as a sentinel, looking towards Molokai, Maui and the big island; where the earth was still being born through volcanic activity. Tired but gloriously happy, Mike and Maddy boarded a taxi for the trip to their hotel. Paradise awaited.
In six months, Paradise would be dented severely, its nose bloodied by a sudden, unannounced air attack by the Japanese. Caught with its pants down, the Pacific fleet would painfully get off the canvas, eventually kicking the enemy's butt up between its shoulder blades some distance to the west, at Midway. Bissfully unaware of the dragon lurking around the corner, Mike and Maddy embarked on what would be a wonderful journey into marriage.
* * *
Mike stabbed at the ground with his pitchfork, stepping on it to drive it deep, then twisting the handle as he leaned on it to turn the earth. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he rested both arms on the tool for a moment, watching his lovely wife Madeline, "Maddy" for short, as she knelt at the other end of the garden, carefully planting seeds in a neat row. Her lovely blonde hair flowed out from under a wide-brimmed straw hat, which protected her from the sun. Mike marveled at her beauty, and wondered at her love for him, still intense after nearly a year of blissful marriage. The sensuous curve of her blue jeans, fitted tight against her glorious bottom; that incredibly soft landscape that he loved to paddle as much as she loved having him paddle it. He had paddled it that morning, in fact; she had teased him into it, knowing they would be spending the day together. Feeling his eyes on her, Maddy looked up at him, causing him to grin as he noticed the spot of dirt adorning her pert nose. Her blue eyes were summer-bright, and shone with the remembered bout of love-making which had followed that morning's spanking.
It was the spring of `42 and America had been in the war for months. It wasn't going well, and every household was encouraged to plant a "Victory Garden". Mike and Maddy decided to do their part, planning the layout together, then spending this glorious Saturday in planting.
"Make sure you get those seeds in right-side up," Mike joked, "otherwise the plants will grow in the wrong direction."
Maddy frowned at his farm-boy humor, then giggled and threw a clod of dirt at him. Trying to side-step, Mike got tangled in the pitchfork and toppled over, laughing, the clod hitting him square in the chest. Sitting in the turned earth, Mike put on a strict face saying,
"See what you made me do?" Narrowing his eyes, he scolded her playfully, telling her "You ought to get a spanking, little lady." Placing her hands on her hips, she challenged him,
"You wouldn't dare!" Maddy's bottom was still warm from the hand-spanking he'd given her earlier, but she loved it, and wanted more. The chase was on. Around the shed, through the yard, twice around the car. Back to the shed, where he caught her when she tried ducking inside. They rolled on the straw-littered floor, laughing like children. Laying on top of him, Maddy kissed Mike with customary passion, then whispered in his ear,
"Did you forget about my spanking?", nipping his earlobe afterward.
"Hardly." Mike said, rolling her over and getting to his feet. He grabbed her around the waist, and physically toted her over to an old packing crate, where he sat down and began unfastening her jeans. Maddy gave him a token struggle; it was more fun that way, but the end result was always the same. In the end, Maddy lay turned face down across her husband's knee with her bare bottom ready to be spanked. She loved the way Mike's strong hand stung her bottom, and for the first few slaps just closed her eyes and moaned. As the stinging got more intense, she yelped and cried, usually winding up in tears before he was done. Kicking did no good with her jeans and panties around her legs, and squirming was to no avail. Her handsome spouse slapped that delightful bottom of hers until they both became heated with desire, then spread a blanket on the shed floor and made sweet love to her. His lips and fingers, gentle as always, sought out the most sensitive and thrilling areas, bringing her along slowly until she was ready to burst, then taking her with tenderness and strength, lifting her over the top and falling with her into ecstasy.
Corn, tomatoes, peppers, squash, broccoli, Romaine lettuce all took their place in the freshly turned and raked earth as the couple worked side by side in the warm sunshine. Dirt had a marvelous aroma, the scent of life. Far from being the inert entity it appeared, the wonderful stuff teemed with nutrients and microscopic fauna: a perfect medium for growing food for all of nature. Mike used some furring strips to create a modest trellis for pole beans and cucumbers. Maddy planted a long row of sunflowers to delight the scrub jays and squirrels. The garden hose provided a good soaking afterward, adding the scent of fresh water to a backyard potpourri. Washing down the garden tools, Maddy saw that Mike had disappeared. They were both pleasantly tired from their labors, but Maddy thought silently that it wasn't like him to run out before the job was done. With everything cleaned up and put away, she finally went into the house, removing her straw hat and wiping her brow with her hanky. Mike was sitting on the couch, reading the Saturday Evening Post, a cigarette in one hand. The cover of the Post illustrated one of Norman Rockwell's remarkably insightful glimpses of life in America's heartland.
"Enjoying yourself?" Maddy said, a bit more caustically than she intended.
She was a little miffed at her husband relaxing while she had finished the garden work. He gave her a kind of hangdog look, putting down his magazine as she sat in the easy chair across from him. She still had the spot of dirt on her nose, and he almost couldn't help laughing. Rising, he pulled the ottoman over by her, sitting down and taking her right foot in his hands. Removing the loafers she wore, he peeled her socks off and began massaging her feet, his strong hands kneading the smooth flesh firmly but gently. Maddy clung stubbornly to her irritation, refusing to let him off so easily, but as he worked his way to her ankles and calves, it became harder for her to stay angry. Closing her eyes, she allowed him to unfasten and slide off her jeans, slipping down in the easy chair as he did so. His fingers continued the kneading, squeezing massage, making her moan softly with the pleasure of released tension. Practically asleep from the wonderful sensation, Maddy felt herself lifted bodily and carried into the bathroom. Lovely scented air wafted to her from the hot, foamy bubble-bath Mike had drawn for her. A glass of smooth white wine sat nearby, and the table radio had been placed on the toilet top, softly playing "Sleepy Lagoon". Setting her on her feet, Mike took her face in his hands and kissed her softly, saying with his actions what could never be put into words, and then left, closing the door behind him.
"I'm sorry I was angry with you." Maddy said quietly, leaning over the back of the old leather sofa. The exhilarating scent of Maddy's understated perfume took Mike by the chin and turned his head around. She was leaning on the back of the sofa, and kissed him sweetly as he turned, his "That's okay." reply stifled by her soft mouth. A deep blue flowered silk sarong from Hawaii highlighted every curve of Maddy's superb figure, complementing her well-brushed golden hair. Mike felt himself getting excited from the sensual eroticism of the image. Coming around to face him, Maddy drew him to his feet, saying,
"Let's get you cleaned up, m'lord, and then you can give me the sound thrashing I deserve for doubting you."
Taking his hand, she led him unprotesting into the bathroom, where she had drawn a hot bath. Undressing him, she fawned over him like a Roman servant girl, then helped him into the tub. Like a loving mother, she washed his hair, then soaped and sponged him clean, gratified and appreciative of his mounting excitement. Several times he attempted to rise, driven with desire for the lovely creature who pampered him so skillfully, only to be pushed firmly back into the tub. Lathering his face with brush and Old Spice soap, the beautiful woman who was his life partner carefully shaved his handsome face, completing the job.
Toweled off, dressed in a red dragon-adorned silk robe, Mike felt like a new man. Taking Maddy in his arms, he kissed her passionately, loving her more than he thought possible. She molded to him, every curve fitting against his firm body, wanting to be part of him, her arms around his neck. His hands cupped her bottom, pulling her to the firmness in his loins. Breaking away, she went to one knee, looking at the floor in mock servitude and asking,
"Does master wish to beat me now?"
Mike lifted her chin with his left hand and regarded her deep blue eyes, enhanced by the color of her sarong, and sighed,
"Oh, yes, little flower. Master wishes to beat you now. And more."
Taking his hand, Maddy led him to the bedroom, where she turned around and shed the sarong in one swift motion. She was pleased by her husband's sharp intake of breath as he beheld her stunning beauty; a golden-haired angel in the afternoon light. Momentarily dazed, he stood while the vision approached, relieving him of his robe and leading him to her dresser seat, his favored throne when handing out a spanking. Laying submissively across his lap, she soon felt his hard palm slap her upturned bare bottom, smartly. Spank after spank landed, turning the creamy skin a vibrant rosy pink. Moans and gasps of surprise and delight escaped Maddy's lips as her husband warmed her bottom until a small sob broke from her throat as the smarting overwhelmed her. Both of them were so excited by that point that neither of them remembered afterward how they got on the bed. All over each other, they made love with a frenzied delight that eclipsed every time before.
"The stuff that dreams are made of." Bogart slurred, quoting a line that would be forever remembered in a movie which would become the silver screen's classic detective story. Cozily nestled in the balcony, Mike and Maddy shared the last of their popcorn, as the "Maltese Falcon" wound down. Filled with foreign intrigue and the old double-cross, it transported people into a make-believe world, a temporary escape from reality.
"He should have spanked her before turning her over to the cops." Maddy quipped, nudging Mike.
"Naw," Mike replied cagily, "she probably would have enjoyed it, just like you."
Maddy blushed, unseen, then whispered in his ear, "The evening is still young, my love. Time enough for you and I to play Sam Spade and the wicked lady." Nibbling on his ear, she put her left hand on the inside of his right thigh, moving it upwards slowly, like a serpent.
Embarrassed, he laughingly hissed,
"Stop, you wicked woman! For crying out loud, are you trying to get us arrested?"
"Can't blame a girl for trying, can you?" she said sweetly, her hand persisting and her mouth moving to his neck. "Of course," she murmured seductively, "you can always take me home and teach me a lesson."
Giving up, Mike turned to her, covering her mouth with his, kissing her deeply. Sliding his right hand under her skirt, he stroked the inside of her silken thigh, making her whimper slightly when it reached its destination. Maddy loved the way he was so gentle with her, so considerate. Her mother had forewarned her of most men's rough technique, but in Mike she had found the perfect lover. Strong and driving when she wanted him to be, he was sensitive and patient when her needs required. Now, they began to overheat. Sensing it, Maddy broke away gently, whispering,
"Take me home, Micky." she requested, breathing faster, "I think the feature there is just about to start."
When Mike heard her use her pet name for him, he knew she was really heating up, and he rose, taking her hand and leading her through the seats to the aisle. A cartoon had the audience roaring with laughter as they walked out into the spring evening, the warmth from their ardor a defense against the chill air.
Maddy disappeared into the kitchen while Mike turned the console radio on low, filling the room with a soft background of music. Returning with two glasses of wine, Maddy snuggled down on the sofa with Mike, picking up where they had left off in the theater. Sitting on his lap, she concentrated on raising his temperature to a fever, helping him undress her in stages, guiding his hands and making good use of her own. Before they reached the point of no return, Maddy pulled away from him, gently but firmly, and disappeared into the bedroom. Intrigued, Mike waited patiently on the couch, wondering what his lovely wife had in store. He was just about to go find out when she re-appeared in a see-through peignoir and her high-heeled slippers, which set off her luscious legs to perfection. Her right hand held their favorite spanking tool: her old-fashioned wooden hairbrush, with which she was luxuriantly stroking her lustrous golden mane. She came to him slowly, a sultry step at a time, all the while brushing that beautiful hair, her eyes shining. Swallowing hard from the stimulation, Mike watched with unconcealed desire as she drew near to the sofa, bending to hand him the heavy instrument with the words:
"For you, my love." She said huskily, "The stuff that dreams are made of."
Mike's cigarette ash glowed brightly in the darkened living room as he drew the smoke in. Maddy was asleep in the bedroom, well-spanked and well-loved. Mike looked at the hall table, where a letter from the government lay, still unopened. He knew it was his orders to report for bomber pilot training, which he had requested. Maddy knew of his request, but not of its approval. It would keep until Monday, he thought, stubbing out the Lucky. Tomorrow they would go for a walk in the woods, holding hands and speaking of their love for each other. The world outside, which was tearing itself apart, would have to wait.
* * *
"BOOOOARD!" the conductor yelled, announcing the train's departure to all within earshot. The large brass bell on the locomotive clanged rhythmically, conveying a sense of urgency, a wish to be off down the track. A hug, a quick kiss, and Mike was climbing the steps to his coach, leaving Maddy standing on the platform, trying to be brave. Mike turned around at the top, crowding through the other young men in similar circumstances, clinging desperately to the handrail as he blew a final kiss to his beautiful wife. Her resolve crumbled, and as the steam engine's whistle sounded she bawled broken-heartedly, wanting to run after the train as it chuff-chuffed its way out of the station. She was not alone. Several women of varying ages, but mostly young, watched the train recede into the distance, belching black smoke and cinders, the wheels clack-clacking, seeming to say "Good-bye, Good-bye". Dabbing at her mascara-smeared eyes with a twisted hanky, Maddy stood long after the others had departed, the smell of coal smoke and steam all around her. For the first time in her brief marriage, she would be living and sleeping alone while Mike was in flight training. It would be weeks until she saw him again, and the thought devastated her. Her cute bottom was still warm from the farewell spanking Mike had given her that morning. The glow comforted her, but depressed her as well, for she knew that it would be a long time before she got another. Maddy loved how Mike spanked her bare behind, his firm hand slapping the skin rosy red, and how they made such sweet love afterward.
"Oh God, Micky, what am I going to do without you?" she asked herself silently, looking at the faces of the women around her. They all had the same look; the afflicted expression of a lover left behind.
The train had gone out of sight, just a faint wisp of smoke on the horizon, its faint, mournful call coming back as it whistled a grade crossing far away. A slight gust of wind made the platform sign hanging above her creak as it swung back and forth. Suddenly, the world was degrees colder, and Maddy pulled her sweater around her, shivering.
"Smoke?" the question came, stirring Mike out of his daydream. He had been watching the countryside fly by, the train wheels clickety-clacking to a gentle rocking motion. How he and Maddy loved to play in the country, he thought to himself. Turning, he saw the proffered pack of cigarettes and took one, thanking the stranger.
"Flight training?" the unknown benefactor asked.
"Yeah." Mike replied, cupping his hands around the match as he lit up.
"Me, too." The other replied, somehow confirming the invisible bond between them. He looked younger than Mike, a little scared, perhaps.
"First time away from home?" Mike offered, sensing the boy's unease.
"Uh-huh." Came the assent. "My dad's a crop-duster, had me flying since I was twelve."
Mike realized that had to be all of six years; the kid couldn't be more than eighteen. He smiled, but made no reply, and the boy sat back in his seat, with nothing more to say for the moment. Mike returned to watching the parading landscape, remembering better times.
"Last one in's a rotten egg!" Maddy yelled, shucking her clothes like a born stripper. While Mike struggled with his boots, Maddy split the surface of the mirror-like pond with a perfect dive, kicking a few underwater strokes before coming up to shake her perfect blonde mane. The pond snuggled in a secluded valley, a mile or two from the ranch where they rented horses to ride on their country excursions. The afternoon sun warmed the whole area, and parts of the small tarn were bounded by conifers and willow, the branches dipping low to caress the water near one edge. Mike dove in at last, and surfaced, looking for Maddy. His beautiful mate had disappeared, but suddenly he felt a sharp pinch on his bottom and she jumped on his back, ducking him under. Spluttering, he grabbed for her, but she dodged away, splashing water in his face, giggling like a school girl.
"Two can play that game!" he cautioned, diving under. Maddy made to swim away, but his hand locked around her ankle and dragged her back, shrieking with delight as he reeled her in. Enveloping her in his strong arms, he kissed her passionately, water streaming down both of their faces as they stood chest deep in the sylvan pool. Madeline wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting herself and encircling his waist with her legs, clinging to him as they kissed. His lips caressed her face, neck and shoulders as he told her how beautiful and desirable she was, and how lucky he felt to have her for his wife. Slowly, he carried her to the edge of the pond, laying her down under the spreading willow. Her golden hair spilled all around on the lush green grass, which made a soft bed for their lovemaking.
Madeline lay on her back, gazing up dreamily at the ancient willow above. Mike slept quietly beside her, not a care in the world. She loved him so much, it almost hurt. Reaching up with her hand, she touched one of the slim branches; so flexible and delicate. It stirred a vibrant memory, and the branches faded as a decade-old scene replayed itself in her mind.
"It's not fair! You're just being mean!" the pretty teenager yelled stridently. "I hate you, I hate you!" she finished, pouting.
The words visibly attacked the older man standing in front of her, cutting more deeply than a knife. Covering up the hurt, he stated firmly,
"Madeline, you are wrong. I warned you if you didn't apply yourself in school that I would take Brandy away from you, and so I will; until you see fit to improve your performance."
Madeline glared at her father, pouting even harder. Clad in her riding clothes, she had been prepared to take her horse Brandy for a nice long ride in the country, only to find that her father had made good his threat, declaring Maddy's horse off-limits until further notice.
The lovely young Madeline, barely sixteen, spun away from her father, clomping angrily up the winding stairway. On the way, she met her mother coming down, having just witnessed the argument. Maureen Ryan was an elegant woman of modest stature, with red hair and light green eyes. With class and breeding, she carried an internal power that served her well in many ways. Always controlled, she presided over the household with perfect grace. Now, she was seething inside over her daughter's behavior.
"Go to your room, young lady." she ordered icily.
Madeline went, making a face, but obviously more intimidated by her mother than her father, who was gentle as a lamb. She waited, fretting, for about fifteen minutes, and then the door to her room opened, admitting her mother. Maureen stood for a long moment, regarding the surly child, and then stated sternly,
"You are behaving like a spoiled brat, Madeline, and I don't like it one bit."
The pretty teenager looked away, her face still twisted with annoyance.
"Look at me when I am speaking to you!" her mother commanded.
Maddy obeyed, a little frightened now. She had never seen her mother this angry about anything. The icy voice continued,
"You should be ashamed of yourself, and I want you to go right this minute to your father's study and apologize for the terrible things you said to him. It won't undo what's done, but he will forgive you anyway."
Madeline sat there, looking away again, stubbornly ignoring her mother's command. Coming closer, the older woman repeated her order, frost dripping from every word,
"I'm going to ask you once again, Madeline. Go right this minute to your father's study and apologize."
Twisting to look out the window, Maddy stalled for time, figuring her mother would give up and go away. After all, she reasoned to herself, I'm almost a woman.
"Very well." Maddy's mother said venomously, "If you wish to act like a child, you'll be treated like one."
Taking the girl by the arm, she fairly dragged her daughter out of her bedroom and headlong down the stairs, going through several hallways before reaching the kitchen. Grabbing a pair of shears, she dragged Maddy outside and down along the wide swale of their estate. Her destination was a creek that meandered through the property, along which grew some fine willow trees. Maddy was stunned at her mother's behavior. She couldn't even speak, and was now badly frightened. Her mother's grip was stronger than she had imagined, the slim but powerful fingers digging into her upper arm. Releasing the girl, Maureen cut two or three substantial and limber switches, then took hold of her daughter once more and marched her unceremoniously back to the house and straight to the woodshed in back. The door slammed shut behind them with a clatter, raising dust and frightening Maddy even more. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the discolored panes, creating angled shafts of dust-filled light. Maddy watched, her knees beginning to tremble as her mother prepared one of the switches. She had a very bad feeling about this. An occasional brief trip across her mother's lap was all she had experienced to this point, and her eyes widened as her mother swished the thin piece of willow, testing its flight. Satisfied, Maureen turned to her daughter, pointing at an old workbench and ordering,
"Bare your bottom and bend over that bench, Madeline."
The girl's lip quivered, her eyes misting as her mother continued,
"Since you don't seem to realize how badly you've behaved, I'm going to get your undivided attention. With this." She stated, brandishing the switch. Maddy swallowed hard, and heard her mother finish,
"I'm going to switch that naughty bare bottom of yours until you come to your senses, and then you will march straight into your father's study and apologize for your conduct. Do you understand?"
"P-please, mother. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say those horrible things. Please don't whip me, please! I'll apologize to father, right now."
Her mother's voice cut deeply as she said sternly,
"That time is past, Madeline. I gave you two opportunities to do just that, and you refused. Now, you must take the consequences. Bare your bottom and bend over the bench, right now."
Maddy was so scared, she hesitated, prompting a warning,
"If I have to, young lady, I'll call the maid to help me, and if I do, she'll hold your hands while I whip your bottom until you can't sit for a week!"
The prospect of being whipped with the maid present galvanized Maddy into action. Blushing with shame and embarrassment, she obeyed her mother, sliding down her riding pants, the panties following. The workbench was dusty, adding to her discomfort, and it smelled of neatsfoot oil and turpentine. She barely heard the whistle of the switch before it branded her across the fleshy part of both cheeks, stinging like a pack of hornets.
"Owwww-ohhh!" she yelped, grabbing the injured area with both hands.
"Keep those hands away, Madeline, or I'll call the maid." Her mother cautioned. Pulling her hands back, the pretty blonde grabbed the far side of the workbench, holding on for dear life, her teeth clenched. The next stroke landed hard, right across the tenderest part, where the legs join the bottom.
"Ahhhhh-owwwww-woww!" Madeline wailed, gasping. "Oh, Lord, it stung!" she thought silently, the fire barely subsiding before the next stroke landed, biting deeply across her upper thighs.
"Ohhhhh, owww, mother please!" she implored, "I'm so sorry, I won't do it again!"
Stroke after stinging stroke landed, causing Madeline to wail and plead for her mother to stop. Maureen was nothing if not thorough, and saw to it the naughty girl got well over a dozen sharp strokes before stopping, feeling compassion for the now sobbing woman-child. Finished with the lesson, Maureen went to her daughter's side, stroking her hair and talking softly to her.
"I'm sorry this had to be such a hard lesson for you dear," she said gently, "but you need to learn what's proper, and speaking like that to your father, who loves you dearly, is not acceptable." Maddy wept as much at her mother's words as the fire in her bottom. Her mother went on,
"You've hurt your daddy in a way you can never erase. Oh, you can apologize, and he'll forgive you, certainly, but you can never take back the words that hurt him so deeply." The chastised teenager sobbed at the realization of the truth, her tears puddling in the dust on the old bench. She wished she could just stay there until she died. Brushing back the child's hair, Maureen said softly,
"When you've composed yourself, I want you to put on your best dinner dress and go to your father's study. Tell him how sorry you are, and promise to do better. Then come to my sitting room and we'll have a long talk." Maddy heard the shed door open and close, and lay there for a time in the deepening darkness, thinking how painful it was to grow up.
Mike stirred in his sleep, one hand reaching out to his wife, semi-consciously. Maddy took it in hers, cradling it against her bosom. She had apologized to her father, and the talk with her mother had been the beginning of her becoming a woman. She never got to really make it right with him, as he was shot fatally in a hold-up attempt at the bank where he was president, barely three months later. Maddy had a terrible temper, one that Mike had not yet seen, and hopefully never would. She would die if she ever hurt him like she had hurt her father.
Leaning over, she kissed her half-sleeping husband, waking him. Under her embrace and caress, he came fully awake. She was looking at him strangely.
"Got a penknife?" she inquired pensively.
"Sure." He replied, "In my pants."
Maddy walked over to the pile of clothes near the bank and retrieved Mike's pocketknife. He admired her excellent figure, so slim and ripe with youth as she cut one of the delicate willow wands, then carefully prepared it for use. Mike watched with curiosity, wondering what it was all about. Seeing he needed an explanation, Maddy obliged.
"I have a terrible temper, Mike. Once, long ago, I hurt someone I loved dearly. I don't ever want that to happen again." Holding the switch out to him, she said,
"This is for you. When we get home, I expect to be taken into the shed and soundly whipped." Mike looked quizzically at her, half horrified, half excited. She concluded with an explanation;
"Whenever I'm about to lose my temper with you, I'll remember the bite of that switch, and think better of it." Smiling sadly, she kissed him full on the mouth, then hugged him fiercely.
Everyone had left the station platform, the parking lot nearly empty. Maddy got into the `40 Ford convertible, chagrined at having left the top down. Cinders and dust coated the seats and dashboard, a souvenir of the powerful locomotive which had taken her husband away. With a sigh, she started the car and drove home slowly, resisting the loneliness that would confront her there. "Sentimental Journey" was playing on the radio. It made her cry, but she couldn't turn it off.
All over America the wheels were turning, the "sleeping giant" having awakened to fight Axis oppression on two fronts. Many thousands of young men and women would answer the call, and many would not return, or worse, would return less than whole. The loved ones left behind would pray, and wait, and keep the faith, remembering the good times and hoping for the best.
* * *
"Put some suntan oil on me, will you?"
Maddy murmured, her head pillowed on her hands. Lovely blonde hair cascaded all around her face, the warm California sun glinting on it, making it look like a shimmering golden cloud. Mike was sitting up on the blanket next to his beautiful wife, braced on his arms, one leg drawn up. His well-tanned muscular body gave evidence that he loved the outdoors, and indulged often. Maddy was tan, but her creamy skin didn't brown as well as Mike's rougher hide.
Gulls swooped and dove offshore, a sea otter lay on its back in the kelp bed in some nearby rocks, and about a mile out a good-sized sailboat tacked against the light onshore breeze. Small waves, weary from their long journey across the Pacific, thumped tiredly on the shore, retreating with a bubbling hiss. The breeze's sharp salt tang was refreshing, and the wind was mild, moderating the sun but not enough to kick up sand. Small white puffy clouds marched across the horizon, edging a cerulean sky with elegant lacework.
"Sure." He consented, reaching for the bottle of brown liquid, pouring a palmful and applying it to the backs of Maddy's sensational legs. She made contented noises as he covered her bare skin with the fluid, gently massaging it in.
"Mmmmmmm. That feels good. You're marvelous. Are you sure you belong to me?" she asked, turning her face toward him and giving him an elfish wink and grin.
"Yes, ma'am." He affirmed, "Lock, stock, and barrel."
"Oh, yes," She said, teasingly, the barrel. Your best feature."
He finished rubbing the oil into the back of her firm thighs, and couldn't resist a playful slap on her gorgeous bottom, which filled her one-piece bathing suit to perfection. That morning, before they came to the beach, he had slapped it more than playfully. She had served him breakfast in bed, and mischievously substituted grapefruit juice for his normal orange juice. Not expecting it, his face almost imploded from the sourness. Knowing what she was after, he grabbed for her, dumping the tray on the floor. Maddy giggled, diving under the bedcovers, crawling away. As he went after her, she slipped out and picked up a pillow, landing a haymaker on him as he emerged. A glorious pillow fight ensued, the two laughing like children. Both of them knew it could only end one way, and soon enough Mike had his pretty bride across his lap, her bottom bared. As Maddy squealed in mock protest, his strong right hand smacked her delightful rump, every slap making it redder and redder until tears flowed from her baby blue eyes. She loved it, every stinging spank, and Mike had come to love it just as much. When he had her bottom well warmed, the rest of her was even hotter. As he tenderly massaged the burn from her magnificent backside, his hands would begin to roam to other, more erogenous places. Turning her face up to sit on his lap, he kissed her throat passionately, a hot open-mouthed caress that made her head fall back with pleasure. Descending, his mouth found a full breast, the nipple erect, and his tongue toyed with it. A sharp, hissing intake of breath told him that Maddy appreciated his technique, and he slipped his right hand between her thighs, caressing the incredibly soft moistness there. Rolling onto the bed, they both lovingly assaulted each other in a frenzy of sensual foreplay. At the edge of bliss, Maddy drew him down to her, locking her long, lovely legs around him, thrusting her hips to meet his driving body. Their love-making was always sweet, but never sweeter or more intense than after he had spanked her soundly.
Basking in the memory, Mike spread a little oil on himself, then lay back in the sun, hands cradling his head. Maddy's eyes were closed, a slight smile of supreme contentment on her lips. Closing his eyes, Mike gloried in the fact that he had quite a bit to do with her happiness. In another place, they had shared a similar posture.
"Wake up, sleepyhead." Mike chided, shaking Maddy's shoulder. "We'll miss the luau."
The golden-tanned goddess that was his new bride rolled over lazily, stretching like a cat. In the wonderful shade of their private lanai, marvelous warmth moderated by balmy tradewinds created a cocoon of comfort, making each hour like an hour in paradise. The striking profile of Diamond Head jutted out of a sapphire-blue sea to the east, seemingly close enough to touch. Southward, the Pacific stretched almost into infinity, merging with a tropical blue ceiling that hosted dramatic banks of marshmallow clouds. Floral scents lightly populated the gentle breezes, creating a pleasure-dome effect. The eternal rhythm of incoming ocean waves purred a soft natural lullaby, completing the soothing mantle. Shangri-La, disguised as Hawaii, enfolded the inhabitant in summery bliss and inspired tranquillity.
Sighing contentedly, Maddy teased,
"That's right. I'm looking forward to doing the hula in a little-bitty grass skirt for those handsome Hawaiian boys."
Mike rose to the bait, warning,
"You do, young lady, and I'll set that grass skirt on fire with a canoe paddle!"
She giggled, winking at him brazenly as she suggested,
"Maybe you'd better take some preventive measures, hmmm?"
Rising from the couch, Maddy imitated hula movements as she moved towards her husband, her alluring hips swiveling seductively as her hands stroked his cheek, the brief silk sarong she wore concealing practically nothing. Mike felt his temperature rise, along with something else, and then Maddy was leading him inside. A few moments after the plantation-style doors on their bedroom closed, the sounds of spanking could be heard. It began with hand on silk, and progressed to varnished wood on bare skin, slowly.
They were late for the luau. Luckily, there's always plenty to eat and drink, from roast pig and fresh pineapple to Mahi-Mahi and the library-paste type concoction called poi. Hulas, fire-dancers, ukulele music and flickering torches escorted the evening along until nightfall, when the sky turned into a sable ceiling sprinkled with silver stars. In the hush of the universal presence, stories of the islands danced through their minds as elders related the beginnings of paradise. Mike and Maddy snuggled together in the fresh breeze, listening to the surf sounds and the rustling of coconut palms. Their hearts nearly bursting with joy, they shared soft kisses and murmured sweet nothings, head over heels in love.
Mike brushed a fly away from his nose, lost in the memory of their wonderful Hawaiian honeymoon. They had relaxed on the beach, gone swimming in the delightful water, and taken an exciting outrigger canoe ride. Every day was as pleasant as the best summer day they could recall, meandering along unhurriedly from dawn to sunset. The fly was back, perching on his nose. He brushed at it again, annoyed. He and Maddy had taken the tour up to the ancient high pali, where Hawaiian warriors had thrown themselves off the cliff rather than meet defeat. The islands had a rich tradition and history, now being somewhat steam-rollered by modern civilization.
"Darn fly!" he exclaimed, opening his eyes and sitting up abruptly.
A bit blinded by the sun, he just caught Maddy as she attempted to hide the piece of beach grass she had been tickling his nose with. Giggling, she got up and ran, Mike giving chase.
"You'd better not let me catch you, you smart-aleck!" he yelled after her. "I'll warm your naughty bottom good!"
Maddy dodged and ducked, giving him his money's worth, and finally ran into the surf to escape him. It did her no good, as he tracked her down, throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her bodily out of the water. Setting her down, he tucked her under his left arm and spanked the seat of her one-piece, now thoroughly wet, a couple of dozen times while she pretended to plead for mercy. Letting her go, he crossed his arms and watched her rub her behind while he told her,
"When I get you home, it's the hairbrush for you, missy. I'll teach you to play tricks on me."
She stood there looking at him like a naughty girl, and then gave him a crooked grin with a hint of sexiness.
"I was hoping you'd say that." she admitted, her eyes smoldering deep inside, letting him know how she felt.
She looked regal, even with her hair all wet and stringy from the ocean. Mike felt such a pang of love looking at her that he took her in his arms and kissed her, hard, then kissed her whole face, tasting the salt and overwelming her with his passion. Nearly breathless, Maddy was swept away by her lover's intense display, and was not surprised when he picked her up in his strong arms and carried her back to their blanket. With the only witnesses being wildlife and a distant sailboat, the couple made blissful love on the deserted beach, falling into each other's arms afterward to share the beauty of the afternoon.
Maddy let Mike shower first, and while he sipped a beer in the living room, she luxuriated in a hot tub. It had been a marvelous day, full of sun and fresh air, and the kind of togetherness that only happens to young lovers who are lucky enough to have found a soul mate. Finishing her bath, she dressed in a brief silk sarong and slipped into high-heeled maribou slippers. She sat at her dressing table, brushing her long blonde hair into shining splendor with her big wooden hairbrush. Feeling the smoothness of the wood and its impressive weight, she became more and more excited at the thought of her darling Micky using it soundly on her bare bottom. She was tempted to just take it right out to him and ask for it. After all, she thought, he had promised her a good spanking for teasing him. No, she thought, too easy. Putting on some bright red lipstick, she put on her makeup, adding his favorite perfume and even taking time to do her nails in a shade to match her lips.
Mike was sitting on the old leather sofa in his silk robe, reading Life magazine, his empty beer bottle nearby. Maddy eased into the living room, her heels not clicking loudly enough to distract him. Lifting the top of the console radio, she put on the 78 rpm recording of "Stardust".
"Dance?" she offered, getting Mike's attention.
His eyeballs almost clicked as they beheld the incredibly beautiful woman before him. He discarded the magazine, rising to take her in his arms, remembering the magical night they had met at the road house. Time seemed to fall away, and his heart beat as if they had just met for the first time. Her perfume was intoxicating, the clean smell of her hair even more so as it brushed his face. Warm and soft against him, her body said things even more profound than words could manage. Around the small living room they danced, clinging to each other as if they could become one through their devoted love. Near the end of the song, she whispered softly and sexily,
"I warned you I could be very, very naughty, that night, didn't I Micky?"
Remembering how her words had affected him, he said,
"You certainly did, princess, and I've kept that naughty bare bottom of yours pretty well warmed, haven't I?"
"Mmmm-hmmm." she hummed, giving him a smoldering look.
"Which reminds me," he thought out loud, "I seem to recall that I promised you a good spanking this afternoon. Did you think I'd remember?"
Nibbling at his ear, she breathed huskily,
"I was counting on it, Micky my dear."
Pulling away, she led him by the hand into the bedroom, letting the sarong fall from her tawny tanned shoulders as she went. Mike felt his pulse race out of control as he regarded her fabulous bottom and legs, made even more attractive by the high-heeled slippers. Leading him to the dresser seat, Maddy pushed him gently down on it, and as she handed him the hairbrush she couldn't help noticing the impressive bulge in his robe. Untying the sash, she stroked it softly, winking at him and saying,
"Save that for later, Micky dear. We'll use it for something."
Turning herself face down across his bare thighs, she readied herself for spanking, even putting her right hand up behind her back so Mike could hold it out of the way. Getting her settled, Mike started spanking smartly, Maddy gasping at the fiery sting. Slowly at first, and then picking up speed, the hard wooden hairbrush stung its way across her fast reddening bottom, and down to about mid-thigh. Her slippers were gone in a flash, kicked off as her legs twitched at the smarting burn of the smooth, varnished brush.
"Ohhhh, Micky! Owwww! Ohhhh, God, it smarts!" she wailed, squirming and twisting as he spanked and spanked her flaming bottom.
Her cries increased in volume and pitch as the brush found its target again and again, with Mike spanking hard enough to make it really sting, but trying not to bruise her too badly. Growing hotter by the second, he finally stopped and rubbed her behind, letting her sob out the hurt as he soothed the fiery skin of her backside. That got him even hotter, as it did her. Rising, she attacked him, impaling herself on him, now totally rigid with excitement. She moaned as he grabbed her firmly by both cheeks, pulling her to him, moving her as she desired, following her lead. He wound up carrying her to the bed, where they continued their lovemaking in a tangled frenzy, falling afterward into a contented and blissful sleep.
Paradise is relative. People can be surrounded by the most beautiful and serene setting and still be unhappy. Others can live in paradise wherever they are. It's not so much where you live, but how you live. Not what your life is, but who you share it with. In the days before Pearl Harbor, there was still time to live easy, to revel in the simple pleasures without feeling guilty. Mike and Maddy did it well, living and loving a lifetime in the days they had together.