The cell phone rang, Adelle’s heart started to race. She ran to where she’d left it, on the kitchen counter, where she’d put it down while wiping down the stove top.
“Hello?” she said into it.
“You’ll be a saloon dancehall girl and barmaid from the Wild West days, I’ll be a cowpoke. I’m leaving work now…” she heard the male voice say before the line went dead.
Adelle had been busy all day, balancing being a domestic engineer of the household and an at-home-service-worker, doing some health industry coding on her computer. But it was like all that had been in slow-motion. Adelle rushed in hyper-speed to her bedroom closet, selecting the wardrobe that would help put her in character, doing her hair and make-up.
Bill walked in through the front door a half an hour later. That isn’t true, Bill sauntered in. It was like he was an Alpha male long before the label was coined. He clearly thought that he was all that, and his attitude and bearing informed Adelle about an era she wasn’t really familiar with. Bill was older at forty-five, watched re-runs on TV of old Western movies and shows, whereas Adelle was just twenty-five years old and had little frame of reference besides that “Yellowstone” spin-off, “1883.”
He was still in his business suit, but Addie could’ve sworn she heard spurs jingle as he crossed their living room and sat at the counter on a barstool, tossing the Stetson hat onto what magically became the long, wooden bar in the Long Branch Saloon of Dodge City.
Addie sat suggestively on the dusty cowboy’s lap, “New in town?” she smiled.
“Do you recognize me?” he drawled back.
“Doesn’t that answer your question?”
“Just tryin’ to make conversation, mister.”
“Try doing your job instead and bring me a beer.”
“Well, excuse me!” she returned sarcastically.
The cowboy reached out suddenly and grabbed the bargirl by the hair piled high on her head. The too-fast-to-see reaction gave everyone an indication how fast this man would be in a shoot-out. He pulled the young girl back to closer than she’d been when occupying his lap. “Less backtalk and faster service, or I might have to ruffle your petticoats with a spanking…”
She waited until he released the tight grip on the roots of her hair to counter, “I haven’t been spanked since I ran away from Pa at eighteen, I’m not about to…”
“Too much talk and not enough beer!” he pronounced as he interrupted her diatribe with another lightening fast seizure of her delicate bare shoulders and turned her over his knee. He smiled to himself as he raised the satin ball gown and all those petticoats to finally get to a pair of waist-to-knee bloomers. Man, Adelle sure had an extensive wardrobe, Bill thought to himself. Much better than the old Stetson cowboy hat that he’d borrowed from a business associate from Texas at the last minute… Back in the moment, he snarled, “I tried to warn you, little lady,” as he raised his right hand high.
When it landed, the bargirl didn’t give the cowhand the satisfaction of letting him know the spank burned like hell. “Hey, stop that! How dare you?”
“This is how I dare,” and he raised his hand again and swatted her other orb.
“You can’t DO that to me!” she continued to argue.
As his hard spanks fell with more rapidity, he replied, “That comment goes right along with your question about being new to town as utter foolishness… I’m DOING it!”
Indeed he was. The spanking was really starting to sting
“Let me up or I’ll call the sheriff!” she shouted.
“Guy asks for a beer, only gets a lot of horse manure backtalk! I think any lawman would back me and say you deserve what you’re getting.”
“Okay, okay! I’m sorry! Please let me up!” He complied immediately. Unabashedly rubbing the seat of her bloomers, she nonetheless hastened around the counter to fetch him a cold beer in a glass mug. “Let me start over again, please… Welcome to town, stranger! My name’s Addie. I bet you could use a beer to cut the trail dust… Here you go. May I ask your name?”
“Name’s Bart. Thanks for the beer, it really hits the spot!”
“Speaking of hittin’… Do you always spank bargirls when you wander into a new town?” She was only now able to let her skirts fall back into place, that sudden whirlwind of a butt blistering had really gotten to her.
“Only the ones who need it… Besides, you enjoyed it…”
“What? I did not, it really hurt! How dare you say…?”
He cut her off again, this time with just the steely stare and not the caveman technique with her hair. “I’ll make you a wager, missy…” He pulled a large silver coin from his vest pocket. “I bet you that if I pulled you back over my knee and raised all those petticoats, I’d find your bloomers wet with your arousal… Is it a bet?”
Addie blushed deeply and pushed the coin back toward the cowboy on the bar. “Please don’t embarrass me any more than you already have,” she whispered, so that other saloon patrons wouldn’t overhear.
With self-satisfaction, Bart put the coin back in his pocket. “Nothing to be ashamed of… you have a lovely backside, and took a hard spanking very well!”
“So, you have spanked other girls…?”
“Every one that I’ve ever seduced…”
Adelle didn’t think she could get any more short of breath, suddenly she was also parched. She took a gulp of his beer. “…You… have…?” she was able to get out of her throat.
He leaned in close, “But none with as cute a bottom… or as much obvious appreciation for the act.”
It was like she was a girl back East again, in the confessional with her pastor, her words came spilling out of her, “You’re very observant. Most the guys I’m with barely notice anything, they just want to put their hard things in my soft place. Not that I’m a prostitute! I’m a bargirl, but I’m not a saint, either. And I’ve always fantasized about being spanked. Not strapped hard like my Pa wanted to… but lovingly spanked… So, I often spank myself, when my suiter ain’t lookin’, and now, to meet you, a Casanova of a cowboy…”
Bart picked Addie up in his arms and carried her upstairs to her room. More spanking transpired, but this time less punishing and much more loving. She was right, it did turn her on mightily. A big part of the turn-on was the realization that he could haul-off and wallop her butt at any time, that the potential energy was there, waiting to be unleashed. But that he chose to be gentle. It was just like the previous play-acting scenarios he’d phoned-in to her in the past, the gangster and his moll, the pirate and his captive, the sultan and his harem girl… The love-making afterward was a textbook rendition of sexual satisfaction, just as it had been before, maybe even better than ever before. Only when the escapade was concluded did the two talk again.
“That was fucking fantastic, Bill! I love how you improvise in role-play!”
“Me? You’re the Meryl Streep of character acting! And you always come up with the perfect costume!”
“What scene are we gonna act-out next time?” she enthused.
Bill gave Adelle another swat on the tush for a reprimand. “You know the rules, you only know that when you get the phone call. You’ll have to wait until next time…”
“Please let it be tomorrow! I can’t wait any longer!”
“You’d think that I didn’t just fuck you eight ways from Sunday…” Bill chuckled, but was secretly pleased that his girlfriend got into the act so well, with just a phone call.
(Did you ever read Kurt Vonnegut’s great short story, “Welcome to the Monkey House”? I remember well when I first did, how profoundly he moved me. This is my homage to him and that tale. Enjoy!)