Chapter 2

Easter Monday, April 5th, 2010

Just after 9:00 Monday morning. Ms. Madeline Westerbrook Esq. was leaning across John Hanlon’s desk; ass high up in the air, hose and panties around her ankles semen dripping down her thighs. He’d just finished his ‘six minute workout’. Zipping his fly he smacked her cherry red behind, smirked and said, “Don’t know why you won’t let me check that back door.”

Madeline turned; her immediate supervisor John Hanlon; he looked a little worse for wear this morning. Much older than she, forty something, shorter than her, overweight, overlarge belly, he had a tendency to burp unexpectedly, especially when no clients were about, he was guilty of periodic meteorism too. She supposed both things were probably the result of years of poor diet. Clean shaven, receding hairline, bald patch on top. Could a comb over be far behind? He had the first traces of hair growing out of his nose, and he had a tendency to pick it when he didn’t think anyone was looking. He was a wearer of glasses, wire frames for reading but he also used contacts. He might have been good looking once. He played golf. He reminded her of the fraternity boys who’d abused her, what they might look like now, and that pleased her. He had a handsome wife, though about the same age she looked younger. He had kids; one was an arrogant little snot in college. She swore she’d never marry anyone like Hanlon. Her thoughts drifted back to that Colton, that horse boy. She had him figured out too, just another nobody. Hanlon was a fraternity boy and a mason.

She thought, ‘Her dad was a Frat boy and a mason too. Not that it mattered. She glanced at her wristwatch. If he wasn’t with her sister and her family he’d probably be just getting in to his office about now. He sometimes called.’

‘Her dad, her sister, Mr. Hanlon.’

Backdoor he said? Her disgusted reaction gave him his answer, he smiled and said, “Thanks anyway Maddie. Great way to start the day.”

Restoring her pantyhose and panties and pulling her knee length pleated skirt back into place she replied, “Always glad to be of service. Mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Sure, just remember to flush. Can’t have any incriminating evidence. I might have visitors later.”

Madeline grinned, “Wifey coming in later?”

“Leave my wife out of it. No I’ve got some new people. Some kind of technical company; they’re dissatisfied with who they’ve got and want new representation. They do a lot of government contracts. Maybe you’d like to get in on it?”

Madeline reflected and answered, “Sure, why not. My plate’s going to be empty soon.”

“You got us the mall contract?”

“In the bag John.”

“Good girl, just remember its Mr. Hanlon outside my office. Once you make partner it can be John. And yeah, Mr. Prendergast OK’d you so now it’s up to Mr. Schilling.”

Madeline thought, ‘Byron Prendergast had been easy; all he wanted to do was flirt. Mr. Schilling was a problem. It wasn’t her work; no, he was something different. Mr. Schilling was a fraternity brother of her father’s, and it was through her dad that she landed the job. Mr. Schilling was a sober religious man, an Episcopalian, and a regular church goer. He loved God and he liked her. It was a good thing the partners weren’t close friends; each had his own social life and agenda. The last thing she could allow was for Mr. Schilling to find out about her ‘other activities’ with Hanlon, and ... some of their clients. He’d get really mad. He’d most likely call her father. She stepped into the outer office. Everything looked ship-shape.

Back in western Pennsylvania Colt was in the middle of his mucking. Chelsea had stayed home, said she wanted to fiddle on the ‘Net’ some more. ‘That girl, ‘ he thought, ‘though she had friends she had no real social life, just him and her Internet.’ He wondered what she did all day long. It couldn’t just be Facebook.

Checking the horses he found Johnny, Emit’s favorite, the horse had a minor problem with a hoof. As he worked on it he thought Johnny was his favorite too, just a standard American saddle horse, brown, about sixteen hands high, he was a gentle creature, fun to ride. Colt wasn’t much of a horseman; he just cleaned up after them, rode em now and then, and taught a few lessons.

Finishing up with Johnny he heard his phone. He pulled it out, ‘Chelsea, ‘ he wondered? Checking the screen he saw it was from Madeline. ‘Where’d she get his cell number?’ He checked the message, “How about dinner later this week?”

He mused, ‘Guess she wasn’t that disappointed after all.’ He texted back, “Pick a night.”

A minute later his phone bleeped again, “Thursday, 7:00 p.m., meet me at the Keystone Inn. Not to worry, it’ll be on me.”

‘Good thing, ‘ he thought, ‘the Keystone was well out of his price range.’ He texted back, “See you there.” ‘Damn, ‘ he considered, ‘that meant a shirt and tie.’

Colton got back from the stable a little after 3:00. He heard Chelsea upstairs so he decided to leave her alone. His mother and aunt were in the kitchen; both looked sick, probably hung over. He walked in, “Well how’re my girls this fine afternoon?”

Patty, Patricia Lanter, his widowed aunt groaned, “Please stop shouting.”

He hadn’t been shouting. He looked at his mother, “Well Mrs. Stewart how about you?”

“Not now, not this early in the day.”

He had his answers. They weren’t his concern, “Seen Chelsea?”

His mom, head in her hands, muttered, “Upstairs.”

Having had enough of his mom and aunt he walked on past the kitchen to the stairs. He hollered up, “Chelsea you up there? You all right? You need anything?”

She hollered back down, “Not now I’m busy.”

He went back to the kitchen. His aunt glared at him, “Got a letter from Social Security. Chelsea’s past eighteen. They’re cutting me off.”

Irritated Colt replied, “It was never supposed to be for you.”

She snarled, “Yeah, but now how am I supposed to live?”

He smiled sarcastically, “Gee a whole $1,000 a month. You could get a job.”

She grimaced, “You know I can’t work, not with my condition.”

Looking her over, drab wrinkled, too small Tee shirt, pilled stretch pants, matted unwashed hair, he added, “There’s rehab.”

Aunt Patty crawled out of her chair; it scraped harshly on the soiled linoleum floor, passing a glance at her sister she mumbled, “I’ve got get out of here, be at the ‘Rouzerville’ if you need anything,” she walked past Colton without a word.

Colton ignored her too. The ‘Rouzerville’ was a tavern by the same name as the town. It was where his aunt went to get her drugs. He wondered what she’d been doing lately; probably cocaine by the look of her. Sitting down beside his mom he asked, “So what now?”

He eyed his mother; she was in a loose fitting smock, worn jeans, and old sneakers. Her hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail. While Aunt Patty was slovenly and grotesquely overweight, his mom looked drawn and tired. She wouldn’t look at him, “I can’t afford to keep them, guess they’ll have to leave.”

Colt’s stomach turned over, “No, dump your sister. We can’t put Chelsea out. You know that.”

Mom, still not looking up said, “You could get a real job.”

“Me? What can I do? Three years of college. Nobody’d hire me.”

Mom did look at him then; with ill-concealed contempt she growled, “I love the kid as much as you, more maybe, but no Social Security, and with her medical bills. Medicaid covers shit. I don’t see any other way.”

“We could...”

His mother was suddenly all over him, “Shit Colt, we could what? We tried all the disability things. Her heart? Nobody cares. Diabetes, fuck! What’s that; the disease of the day. We’re poor Colt. We don’t matter. She’s over eighteen. No one fucking gives a rat’s ass,” she dropped her head in her hands on the table, “No one gives a shit. God I love the kid; she’s like my own,” almost wild eyed she looked up again, “I wish,” she looked at her son, “My sister, I hate her, but you know that. Chelsea, she’ll never, she won’t ... it’s you son. Colt you’ve got to do something.”

Colt sat there and stared at his mother. She was right; he’d thought about it before, thought about it a lot, ‘His aunt was a druggie; she’d probably be dead soon. He was surprised she’d lived as long as she had. His mom did work; well Walmart. But she wasn’t much either, a whore. No whores got paid; his mom just did it. She did it with anyone who’d buy her a drink or a tank of gas for that rattle trap she drove. Sooner or later she’d find the guy with the right disease and she’d be dead too. Then there was himself; what had he done? Nothing. He had to admit; the fruit didn’t fall far from the tree. Last was Chelsea, poor Chelsea. What would become of her?’

He stared blankly through his mother to the corner where he’d taken off the molding in the fall to repair something. He forgot what he was supposed to fix. It wasn’t even their house. Worthless, he was worthless, “Yeah mom, guess so,” he got up, “better get upstairs and check on Chelsea, got to call Emit later, he’ll need a replacement ... I guess.”

His mom got up too; she had to get to work.

Upstairs, he noticed Chelsea turned off the computer screen as soon as he walked in. She was still in her pajamas; a long yellow shirt thing with a big smiley face on the front, no underwear. He asked, “You OK?”

“I’m good, now get out.”

He felt perverse, “How about a kiss?”

Except to lean her cheek up she didn’t move. He leaned down and licked her.

She pulled back, grimacing, “You’re such a jerk sometimes.”

“My mom says I’ve got to get a job.”

She grinned, “You mean like a real job?”

“Kiss my ass Chelsea.”

She leaned her face up, puckered her lips, and made as if she wanted to smooch his face.

“Ha, ha,” he grumbled, “meds, you need anything?”

“I need you to go away.”

Having been dismissed he trudged on back to his bedroom. Out loud he said, “A job; what the fuck can I do?”

He spent the rest of Monday, all day Tuesday and most of Wednesday, except for a despondent call to his brother, sitting around the house watching television, drinking cheap beer, playing chess and backgammon with Chelsea, and feeling sorry for himself. He figured he owed it to himself to take a few days, his last days, off. He’d meet Madeline Thursday night, have some fun, and start looking for something on Friday.

Thursday night, the Keystone Inn:

Madeline was waiting for him outside the front door. She looked him over; shabby shirt, old our of style tie but in a Windsor knot, but then my god! He was wearing penny loafers and white socks! She greeted him smiling, “I was almost afraid you wouldn’t come.”

He caught her when she caught sight of the shoes and socks, “Sorry, white’s all I’ve got. Besides had a little trouble; my mom’s car wouldn’t start so I had to push it to Den’s Garage and get Chelsea back home before I could get ready.”

Confused, Madeline asked, “Ever heard of ‘Triple A’, and what’s Chelsea got to do with it?’

“Chelsea steered, while I pushed it from behind with my truck.”

“Didn’t that dent up your mother’s car?’ she asked.

“Nope, roped a baloney skin to my bumper. Then I pushed.”

“A baloney skin?”

Colton chuckled, “That’s right, you wouldn’t know. A baloney skin is a tire with all the tread worn off. Always keep a couple around just in case. You know?”

Madeline was getting impatient; this wasn’t her world, he really was a sow’s ear, “Come on I made reservations.”

They went inside. Promptly seated Colton ordered a bottle of one of the better white wines. When the waitress came to take their order, since he’d already politely asked he was able to put in for both of them. He’d selected the stuffed flounder, the same thing she picked. She chose asparagus and red potatoes. Colton picked a pineapple salad and green beans.

Madeline watched thoughtfully, ‘He wasn’t a complete moron; he kept his elbows off the table, he didn’t slurp or guzzle his water or wine, he knew which forks to use, ‘ troubled, she thought further, ‘he’d picked pineapple, he didn’t think?’ She asked, “You went to State College?”

“Three years.”

“Chelsea said you majored in engineering. What area?”

Looking at the dessert menu he asked, “You up for dessert?”

“I don’t care. What area?”

“I think I’ll have a dish of sherbet. I was thinking about becoming a surveyor.”

Madeline was nonplussed, “Surveyor? I never thought of them as being engineers.”

“Well it’s the low end, but it would keep me outside. I hate the idea of sitting behind some desk.”

She politely chided, “Lots of engineers work outside.”

“I know,” he responded, “but that seemed the easiest route.”

She thought, ‘He really is lazy, ‘ “You gave it up because of Chelsea?”

“Not really, well not totally. I had a problem with a couple instructors.”

Interested, she asked, “Really, what kind of problem?”

“You don’t want to know.”

She replied, “Yes, I do.”

“OK, but you asked for it. One of those dickheads was gay, no, not just gay I mean really queer. He called me in to his office to discuss my grades. The next thing I knew he had his hands on my belt like he wanted to unhitch it. He was so hot it was like he was almost drooling. In this greasy voice he squeaked, ‘Oh this is so pretty. I bet it came from Mexico.’ The way he said Mexico it sounded like something dirty.”

“That must have been something. What did you do?” Madeline asked.

“Well it was something. It was my manhood. I mean did I look like some queer? I couldn’t think of anything else so I popped him.”

She asked, “Then what?”

Colt shrugged, “That never went anywhere; he even gave me an ‘A’. But there was another one, a woman. She wanted more than just a good student. She got me to meet her at a restaurant,” Colton smiled, “kind of like what we’re doing now. She took me to her home. I had no idea she was married. Married to some dean no less. After our third ... well visit, she got stupid, started talking, felt guilty I guess. It got back to her husband. He got back to me. I got out of Dodge.”

Madeline was truly intrigued, “Tell me, was she worth it?”

He scowled, then gave her a meaningful look, “None of them are worth it.” He paused, “What I mean is...”

Madeline reached across the table and tried to touch his hand but he pulled it away. Just the same she said, “I know. I get it.”

Colt finished his story, “Because of what I did I had to blow off the last of a four year scholarship. My math teachers at my old high school hated me. Hell, my senior English teacher even almost cried. So now I’m shoveling shit in my brother’s stables. You tell me if it was worth it.”

To Madeline, in a way it was funny, a man getting fucked over because of sex, “So she wasn’t all that good in the sack.”

“No, she was good, damn good, just not that good.”

“So now you’ve given up. You’ve decided, as you said, to shovel shit for the rest of your life.”

Colton leaned back, he wondered, ‘What did she want? Why did she even care; except for some sex later. He wasn’t sure if he liked this lawyer woman.’ He responded, “Guess I’ll skip the sherbet, and no that’s not how this story ends. In fact I’ll be starting tomorrow. I’ve got to find something.”

Madeline thought, ‘either this guy was a total loser, or maybe... ‘ She asked, “Why the change and why now?”

“It’s easy. Chelsea’s over eighteen. She’s lost her Social Security. No money for her mom’s habits. My mom’s decided to kick her and her mother out. Can’t let that happen so I’ve got to find something.”

Madeline had an idea, embryonic, but an idea nonetheless, “How much do you still need for school? I mean have you met any of the requirements?”

Colton studied her, he considered, ‘A lawyer, housing, real-estate, ‘ he replied, “The Physics, Calculus, Geology, Geography they’re out of the way. There’s a couple exams. I was ready when I dropped out. I’d have to find a licensed surveyor, do some work for someone like that.”

“You mean like an apprenticeship?”

“Something like that.”

She asked, “How much could you make?”

“On average,” he started, “fifty-sixty thousand, but the really good ones ... the sky’s the limit, especially if they have their own company, but it’s not so much the money, it’s the insurance. I could get Chelsea on my policy.”

The lawyer peered through Colton’s hazy notions, “She’d have to be a dependent to get her on your insurance. You’d probably have to marry her.”

Colton was caught cold; he’d not considered all the problems. He couldn’t marry his cousin; he knew that.

Madeline finished the sherbet she’d ordered, “Now we’re finished dinner; want to go out somewhere?”

He smiled, “Have any place in mind?”

She smiled back, “There’s a Marriott around the corner, and I’m not needed till late tomorrow.”

He started to get up, “I’ll follow you.”

Madeline, having already paid for the meal, got up too, she laughed, “I’ll drive slow so you won’t get lost.”

He laughed too.

He followed her back to the Marriott; he knew she’d planned the whole evening, she’d already rented a room. Once in the room she didn’t waste any time; after first making a very sexy pirouette she dropped her purse on a chair and said, “All right sweetie, strip for me.”

Surprised, Colton answered, “What?”

“You heard me, take off your clothes. I want to see what I’m paying for.”

This was a first for Colt; usually he gave the orders, but, well, he considered, she’d invited him, she’d bought dinner, and she was paying for the room so... , “Any special way you want me to do this?”

“Yes,” she said, “slow.”

He complied. First he dropped his coat on the floor, undid his tie, then slowly, button by button, sleeves first, slipped out of his shirt. Off came the Tee-shirt. He kicked off his shoes. Standing, he pulled off each sock. Unclasping his belt, unbuttoning his pant waist, pulling down his fly he let his pants slowly fall to the floor. He stood before her, completely undressed except for his white boxers. He could see by the sheen on her face she was aroused.

She nervously pointed and whispered, “Them too.”

Slipping his thumbs between the elastic of his drawers he slowly pulled his underpants down. At last, completely naked, he waited.

Madeline watched; Colton, she saw, had a beautiful body. Barely an ounce of fat, muscular from shoulders to calves. Some but not a lot of hair; just the way she liked them. She walked over and stood in front of him, her fully dressed, him totally nude. She started with her fingertips, but was soon using her palms. She slowly, carefully, gently, touched and smoothed over his body; the nape of his neck, his clavicles, his shoulders, biceps. She took both hands and pressed over his pectorals; gently whisking her palms in slow circular motions over his nipples. She felt his biceps. He was like a finely polished piece of marble; her marble.

Her hands dropped to his waist, she roamed over his abdomen stopping briefly to use her fingers to caress his navel, then to his hips, then that fleshy area just above his genitalia. She brushed lightly around the hair that was just above his tumescent penis; it was pink, he’d been circumcised, she liked that. She knew if she lingered another second he’d be fully erect.

Madeline stepped back, maybe a foot away. He was beautiful, absolutely beautiful; toned, thin, muscular, healthy, the perfect specimen.

She whispered, “Now undress me.”

Colton followed her cue, he stepped up close and began. He pulled her sport jacket down and away, tossing it on a nearby chair. He used his fingers and slowly unbuttoned her blouse; it was white and felt like silk on his hands. Button by button he slowly worked to reveal her slip and the lacey brassiere beneath. Her slip was of the sheerest material and the bra only covered the bottom half of her breasts; her aureole and nipples were easily visible, brown and dark brown respectively, magnificent. There was moisture, perspiration, in the hollow between her breasts.

Sliding the blouse from her shoulders but leaving the cuffs of the blouse still buttoned so that it hung listlessly, restrictively at her wrists he moved to lower the straps of the slip down her arms. He reached behind, undid the clasp of her bra allowing her breasts to emerge and breathe freely. Two perfect pear shaped mounds, soft pink flesh; perhaps a little better than a ‘B’ cup. He imitated her; he used his hands to cover, then clasp, and then carefully massage each glorious orb.

He reached for the cuffs of her blouse and slowly pulled her wrists back behind her back. Hands confined in the fabric of the blouse, slip and bra he saw her confidence ebb. He thought, ‘Was that fear?’

Not quite the harridan after all. He undid the confining cuffs. All three pieces of apparel fell away. Like her, Colton used his hands to smooth over her shoulders, her breasts again, down her arms. He held each wrist and slid a hand over the backs of hers. He went to her waist and pulled her a little closer. He felt her tense up, but she didn’t resist.

She, being shorter than his six feet, he tried to force her to lean up for a kiss, but she turned her head. He kissed the side of her neck, then both shoulder blades. He could feel her shiver. He could see the goose flesh rise.

Like her he stepped back. Naked from waist up; she looked superb, almost perfect. All that was left was her knee length dark blue pleated skirt, and whatever garments she might have beneath. He unfastened her belt, found the button and zipper on the side, undid the fastenings, and her skirt, with whispered breath, slid to the floor. She wasn’t wearing pantyhose, but a pair of soft white high topped stockings held to her thighs by snugly fitting elastic. There were the faintest traces of cellulite. A few, maybe one or two thin spider veins marred the backs of her knees.

There she was; standing in front of him, completely nude except for a pair of shoes, stockings, and white silk ‘tap’ panties with a hem cut exactly even with her most secret treasures. He started to remove the panties, she interrupted.

Madeline whispered excitedly, “Kneel down and then pull my panties down. Leave my hose and shoes on.”

He knelt, he pulled down the panties. There he knelt; face to face with her flawlessly waxed vagina; clear glistening moisture already oozing from her engorged pouting crease.

“Kiss me,” she murmured.

He placed a hand on each of her bare cheeks. He pulled her to his face, his mouth. He leaned in and kissed that most delightful place, her Mons, her Mound of Venus. She was wet, incredibly so. He used his lips and kissed the full length of her vulva, her labia. He felt her shudder as he pressed her clitoris between his lips. He lowered his face and mouth to her perineum, that luscious place between vagina and anus. One more step; he used a finger and thumb and pressed against her anus, that wonderful cavern that so delighted him with the other women he’d had.

Madeline flinched back, “No, not there,” she stepped a few inches away. Almost shyly she knelt before him. Hands on her thighs she innocently looked at him, “Do you find me beautiful? Do you want me?”

He earnestly whispered, “You are, and I do.”

She placed her hands on his shoulders, “If you want me you can have me, but you must promise that you will love me. I don’t mean make love. I mean really love me.”

At that precise instant Colton would’ve promised anything, but he didn’t, “I want you. You’re perfect, but love? I could come to love you.”

Her eyes seemed to glisten; that wasn’t the answer she’d come to expect. He’d disrupted her routine. Still holding his shoulders she pressed her head against his neck and whispered, “Take me to bed.”

Colton didn’t need a second invitation. As he stood he pulled her to her feet. Reaching down behind her knees he lifted her and carried her to the large bed. At bedside, with one hand still holding her, he pulled down the spread and top sheet. She was light like ... like a feather, other thoughts intruded, no, don’t think of her, of Chelsea. He lowered her on the bed.

Friday Morning:

The sun peeked through the shades, while Madeline still slept he’d called home and checked on Chelsea. He lay back beside and behind Madeline. It had been a great evening, but now it was morning, some of the best sex he’d ever had occurred in the morning. He pressed his chest against her back, his penis, already hard, pushed against and between the backs her upper thighs.

Madeline let out a low groan, more a whisper than anything else, “Colton?”

He murmured back, “Don’t move,” he slowly pressed more tightly against her, his penis pushing between her cheeks. He noticed she had something on the right side of the back of her shoulder, it was a tattoo. It was faint, very faint like it had been partially removed.

Madeline lifted her right leg. She reached down, found his penis and directed it into her waiting vagina. Chest to back, his right arm over her right shoulder he slowly, carefully but firmly pushed his way in. Like the night before she was hot, wet, and tight. He wondered if she was tight from inexperience or good muscle control. Her, being maybe thirty and a lawyer, he was sure it was the latter. He didn’t care; free, no strings sex with Anne Hathaway, besides, she was good, probably not the best he’d had, but damn good, experienced.

Madeline pushed back. By slightly lowering her right leg she was able to increase the pressure, provide more friction, a better presence, and more pleasure. Face down on her pillow, relaxed; she felt his unhurried deliberate push way deep inside her. He lazily pressed in, then easing back he languidly pushed in a little farther. She lay there, relaxed, comfortable, thrilled at his deft manipulation of her body. She felt his breath on her neck; it made her hackles rise.

She sensed more insistent movement as he raised himself on one elbow; he had a thumb at the top of her neck just behind her ear, fingers were entwined in her hair, a strong palm held her in place. She was immobile. A sense of helplessness; hapless powerless passion overwhelmed her. Not fear, but something like fear intruded; he was in so deep, he was so hot, his hands held her in an overpowering grip. Weak, feeble, vulnerable she tried to will herself to not orgasm, but it was no use; she quivered, spasmed, and threw herself backward into his body, into his penis. She was utterly, totally, irrepressibly out of control. All she could do was push back and moan, no more a murmur, “Oh, oh.”

Neither lasted all that long. Pushing in, reaching her cervix he poured his essence into her. Madeline, he realized was smaller than many women he’d had; it added to his pleasure. He felt good.

From her perspective there was not just the usual, expected, physical pleasure, there had been more, much more. Even after his last strokes she still felt a tingling, a tingling mixed with pain. He had pushed in so far; it had been so indescribable, it hurt, but it had been delightful! The hot intense flow of his semen had gotten so deep inside her; the wave of nervous, anxious energy that passed through her had been exhilarating. She’d lost all control. It was better than the night before. He was large, larger than many she’d had, but the way they were lying, side by side, chest to back, had made it difficult for him to remain fully inside with every single stroke. Occasionally the head of his erection slid out and punched against her clitoris causing her many new delightful sensations.

She never been so totally aroused. Though she’d had her orgasm she wanted him to just continue on and on. She heard other women talk of being so overwhelmed as to want it to just go on, to be totally controlled, dominated, owned by one man. Of course, that couldn’t happen, wouldn’t happen, never happen with her, not her ... no.

Colton, comfortable and sated, rolled over on his back. Madeline followed; rolling to face him she breathlessly whispered, “You’re wonderful.”

He leaned down and kissed her brow, “You too.”

She leaned up, an emotion she rarely experienced- uncertainty oozed into her being, “You mean what? ‘You too?’ That was all? Wasn’t I good enough?”

He sat on his left elbow. He teased away a frond of her luscious hair. In the harsher light of the morning he could see the crow’s feet, the signs of age that crept up on everyone. She was still a beauty, but her age did, albeit faintly, show through. He wondered at her remark, “You’re sexy and beautiful Madeline, and we’ve had a wonderful evening and morning.”

Perplexed by her own unexpected insecurity she asked again, “Is that all I get?”

He sat further up. Quickly, before she could protest he rolled her on her stomach. With a swat of his hand he spanked her once, hard. Vigorously he asserted, “I said you’re sexy and I meant it. Don’t talk to me like that again, if you do I’ll have to spank you again.”

Madeline rubbed her stinging ass. Nobody, no man, not in a long time had ever done that. No that wasn’t so ... forget, forget that, for that was the past. Her first reaction was anger, but then ... no. She felt ... puerile, childish. She peered at him through soft brown eyes, “I’m sorry. I won’t.”