Chapter 3

When I woke up it was getting dark. The clock said 4.52 P.M. Stretching languidly, I realised it would probably be a good idea if I washed my face. "Ewwww," I giggled, mimicking one of my girlfriends. I didn't want to see what I looked like, so I washed my face without turning on the light. It was then that it dawned on me that it was actually 4.52 P.M. I better have a shower, I thought. Sighing, I flicked on the lights, stripped off and turned on the water, hastily stepping under the cleansing spray.

By the time I climbed out, dinner was well under way. God knew what Stephen was preparing, but the aroma of frying onion, garlic and bacon caressed my rumbling tummy. Just then he turned up the music and there was a spring in my step as I danced back into the bedroom. I head-banged my way into the walk-in wardrobe to the strains of Love in an Elevator, grabbing one of Stephen's t-shirts and slipping it over my head. It was one of those days that seemed to get away from me. But I didn't mind.

It wasn't wasted, I thought as I checked my hair in my vanity mirror. Nope. Not at all.

What fun that was! I couldn't believe I'd talked Stephen into Ageplaying with me. And I couldn't believe all the stuff it dragged up! I was thankful my youth was pretty sedate. I wasn't sure how I would have handled it if horrific repressed memories had been exposed.

I pinched my nipples as I walked down the hall to enter the kitchen/living area. Stephen enjoyed seeing them perky, but the truth was I was feeling horny again already.

"Here she is," Stephen said, removing his silly apron with the tits on it and wiping his hands. After quickly adjusting the remote music volume, he approached me and said, "Let me look at you. Nope, no obvious signs of trauma." Turning me around and feeling my ass then lifting the back of the t-shirt, he asked, "What about here? Is this all right?"

All I could do was giggle as I watched him over my shoulder.

"Looks fine to me," he said with a smile, softly smacking my ass then winking. I turned in his arms as he rose to look down on me, whispering, "I love you."

I tilted my head a little, then narrowed my eyes in mock seriousness. "Why?" I asked, threading my arms around his waist.

"Does love need a reason?" he asked, kissing my nose. I pouted and he rolled his eyes before continuing. "Because you and I have a relationship based on honesty and openness, and without it, we would never have experienced what we did today."

I kissed his lips softly and whispered against them, "How come you always say the right thing?"

"Hmmm. Probably because back when..." I poked him in the ribs. "Oh, you want the short version?" This time it was me rolling my eyes. "Just lucky, I guess," he said, grinning.

I kissed him again before spinning out of his embrace, heading for the stove. "What's for dinner?"

"Pasta," he replied.

"Mmmm. Smells yummy," I said, leaning over the simmering sauce. He didn't have the pasta on yet so I figured we had fifteen minutes at least. I grabbed the chardonnay from the refrigerator and poured myself half a glass. "Do you want some?" I asked, showing him the bottle.

"I think I've had enough," he replied, nodding at the empty wine glass beside the sink. Returning to his sauce, he stirred it purposefully.

I made my way around to the other side of the servery and pulled up one of the barstools. When he glanced at me I smiled back, and he chuckled and shook his head. Sometimes it was hard to know when to verbalise my thoughts, and when to wait for Stephen to speak. This was one of those occasions, but fortunately it wasn't long that he kept me in suspense.

"We need... Well, I need to talk about what we did this morning and I want to ask you some questions," he said matter-of-factly.

"Okay," I replied, biting my lip and willing my face not to get hot.

"You don't want it all the time, do you?"

I shook my head. "No, just when I've been good enough. I want it to be special."

"A reward?"

My mouth was dry. "I um, I don't mean to presume, but yes. I think it might get stale quickly."

He nodded, turning back to his sauce and letting silence reign. The pasta was now simmering.

Even after so many months of our relationship, I was still struggling with Stephen's use of silence. I'd learned to hold my tongue the hard way, allowing him to think things through. He was very smart and though it took me a while to figure it out, he always left me an honourable way to withdraw when I was 'wrong' or we didn't agree on something. All I had to do was listen to his actual words. It's hard to explain. Stephen thinks it's something to do with the way we girls tend to think things through and play out all the possible scenarios in our heads before confronting our men. Men don't do that, according to Stephen. Supposedly there are exceptions to the rule, but in general, he believes men tend to see things the way they want to see them, then just plough ahead. They don't worry about what other people will say, only what they themselves will say. I'm not sure if I'm explaining it right, but to me, it hit the nail right on the head.

Of course, the couple of spankings I got drove the message home. Luckily I like being spanked.