by Rue Chapman
I bent over the keyboard and made sure I looked busy as my immediate superior walked past, talking to his immediate superior. They both smiled at me, and I gave them a quick grin. Both of them under thirty, I could give them fifteen years or more. I straightened my shoulders a little and tossed my hair back, it was nice to know I was still worth the once-over.
Ten minutes later I was grabbing a quick cup of tea in the luxurious staff common-room (which doubled as the broom cupboard). I'd pushed the door almost-closed so that I could grab my cuppa in peace, but I could hear the chatter outside. Little Boss and Big Boss wandered down the corridor nattering away, I ignored them until I heard my name, then I tuned in automatically. Nice to know I rate a mention.
"Oh well, Laura is the perfect employee."
Ah yes, they know quality when they see it.
"She fits in alright in the office? I would have thought she's a bit long in the tooth compared to everyone else, she's no spring chicken, is she?"
"Actually, she's the perfect age. Too old to get pregnant, too young to be totally doo-lally yet, and too married to be ambitious."
"Well, that's true. And there's something to be said for the stolid mummy types, they do the work of three other people and keep in the background."
"Yes, she's a good old girl is Laura, and she knows her place. Never any trouble, she just potters along. You need a few of those staid middle-aged middle-class types. They add ballast."
"And it takes the pressure off, doesn't it. Less competition on the ladder. Now, time for a nice long working lunch I think."
I poured the Earl Grey down the sink. Mummy type? Good old girl? Staid? Ballast? I'll give that little pipsqueak ballast. I'll tie him to an anchor and drop him off Circular Quay. And where the hell does he get off calling me middle aged? Middle aged? I'm not middle aged. Old people are middle aged, that's not me! And staid? Staid? I've got a good mind to tell him a few things about me. I'll show him who's staid.
I lost my virginity in the back of a ute when I was 15. At least I think I did, the ute was moving at the time, and with all that bouncing around... but the thought was there. I smoked pot when I was 16. It made me throw up, but that's not the point. What was that patronising little worm doing when he was 16? Making model aeroplanes probably.
And at University - the sit-ins I organised, the protests in the streets, I was in the front row, I had a voice! I fought for women's rights, land rights and peace (and for better service at the university cafeteria, but that was a private protest of my own). I edited the newspaper for the Women's Collective. I streaked at the football to draw attention to our protest about the lack of women's shelters. Did those sanctimonious little blots ever run naked in front of thousands of people for a cause?
I lived in a commune, I was a vegetarian for three years. I ate lentils. Voluntarily. I wore long floral print dresses, and beads. I met my husband at a sit-in at a uranium mine. We got married on a beach, barefoot, with flowers in our hair. I crocheted my own wedding dress.
I had our first child in a park, lying under the stars, while our friends all chanted African fertility charms. I had the twins in a swimming pool. The last one was a home birth, with the older children watching. I had him on all fours over a beanbag. Those two little wimps would never make it through one natural childbirth, let alone three. I breastfed in public. And then there were years of nappies, and trying to get a mortgage, then trying to get it paid off.
Preschool, then the first one started kindergarten. Then I just blinked and they were all at school, and I was working part-time at the local library and helping out at school as a 'reading mum'. For years I was President, Secretary or Treasurer of the P&C. Once I was all three at the same time, until we were able to recruit more parents.
And then the kids were in High School, and I was working full time - no time for protests and sit-ins now, we had four teenagers and a mortgage to support. And last year the youngest left for University. Just the two of us all alone in our paid-off house.
I still wear floral prints, but now instead of long and flowing they're A-line (so much more flattering for the slightly fuller figure) and end just below the knee.
I'm staid.
When did the revolutionary fire die out? When did I settle, and settle down? When did I become middle-aged? I'm not only staid, I'm positively dull. I work, and keep a nice tidy house, and knit, and feed my husband regularly, and since the kids left home we barely talk to each other. Soon we'll be grandparents, and then we can talk about the grandchildren, and cover the silence.
I'll be damned if I go quietly. I'm not ready to settle down yet. Stolid, am I? Maybe good old reliable Laura has a few surprises for that bright young man. I fumed back to my keyboard. Staid am I? Good old steady Laura. I'll show them.
One of my pimply-faced fellow workers paused beside me. "Laura, I have a hot lunch date, I need to leave early. Can you finish that report for me? Thanks."
Oh yes, good old reliable Laura. "Sorry Darren, I have some work of my own I have to do."
He slunk off in shock. Good old Laura never refuses to take up the slack for the slackers. Ha! So, since my work was all finished, what will I do? What do all the bright young minds do around here? Oh yes, of course. They look for pornography on the net. So good old staid Laura will too.
It's amazing how many sites are devoted to sex, in so many, many different ways. I learned more in the next twenty-five minutes than I did in twenty-five years of marriage.
And then I found it, a site that made me gasp in shock. And then just gasp. So disgusting. So shocking. So... intriguing.
By the end of lunchtime I'd bookmarked two dozen sites. Spanking sites. I'll show them staid.
I was still fuming when I got home. My nice, neat, tidy empty home. And my nice neat tidy boring husband. He'd be home in half an hour, like clockwork, he'd read the paper while I cooked, then we'd eat in front of the TV, then watch a movie while I knitted and he finished his paper, then bed. We could go for days with barely a word spoken that didn't relate to food or newsreaders.
And every free moment I clean this big, empty house. And wash, and iron, and polish, and weed and prune - this house is my second job, and my hobby. No more! I have a new hobby now. If I have the courage.
I grabbed takeaway on the way home - no meat and three veg tonight. I ignored the washing and the ironing. I hurried upstairs, showered, and ferreted through my underwear drawer. I found a black lacy bra and matching panties, black seemed to be a traditional colour for this. Definitely not the night for pantyhose, I made a personal note to invest in a garter belt if this went well. Then I had to decide what to wear. Finding the right clothes would be a problem.
I was ready with ten minutes to spare, I'd solved the clothes problem the easy way. I didn't bother with any, just grabbed a flowing pink satin negligee my kids gave me for my birthday a few years ago. Never wore it till now, but with the black lacy underwear and my only pair of black stiletto heels - left over from the days before I wore sensible shoes - it made quite an ensemble.
I was terrified, the fear fizzing in my veins. And - so excited too. I couldn't remember the last time I'd done anything - naughty. I dimmed the lights in the lounge room and turned on the side lamps, put on some sweet slow music, and got ready. We didn't use this room much, it was kept for company and special occasions. I hoped this was going to be special.
This was going to be fantastic or a total catastrophe. Well, if I sank like a stone, at least I tried. I checked out the windows for approaching icebergs. The Titanic in pink satin.
Then Ray's car was in the garage, I heard him close the roller door, and he was coming up the stairs. Action stations. Take a deep breath, smile, and get ready. I hitched my bra up a little - get ready girls.
I heard Ray drop his briefcase in his study - as always - then he headed for the kitchen. First surprise - no food cooking. "Laura? Where are you? Are you alright?" He walked through the house, searching for his missing wife.
"In here!"
He walked into the lounge room, looking confused. An unnoticeable middle-aged man in a suit that was just slightly out of date, looking worried and a bit impatient. When did my handsome young husband turn into this slightly tubby, grey-haired, inconspicuous man?
"Are you sick? Is something wrong?"
Once he could take my breath away just by looking at me. When did I let that fire die?
"I'm not sick, but I've been very naughty."
"Do you want me to help you get tea ready? I can peel the potatoes if you want."
"I might need something else peeled."
"Carrots?"
Maybe it would be easier to beat him over the head with a standard lamp, and try the personals on those sites I found today. But I'd have to clean the carpet if I took to him with the furnishings. I'd give it one more try. I slunk towards him and pouted. "I've been a naughty girl, and I need some... attention."
"Attention? You need medical attention? Are you sick? Is that why you're wearing... that?"
I glared at him, that lamp stand was right beside me, so tempting.
"I've been bad, and you know what happens to bad girls." I pouted again, and looked at him.
He started to speak, then he stopped and looked at me. And looked, for the first time in years. And then the old Ray gleamed in his eyes, the Ray who made love to me on the beach and who used to laugh and reach for me whenever I walked past him. He looked me up and down slowly. "And just how naughty have you been?"
"Very naughty. I've been a bad, bad girl."
"Hmmm, and what happens to bad girls?"
I wriggled, as slinky as I could manage. "Bad girls get spanked."
He froze for a moment, then his smile grew wider. "Oh, do they now? And just how are they spanked?"
I could feel myself blushing as I spoke, but I wasn't stopping now. "They have to bend over their husband's knee, have their panties taken down, and they get spanked on their bare bottoms." Those sites had been very educational, and I always was a fast learner.
"Well then, I'd better take care of this, hadn't I?" He reached out for a moment and ran his fingertips down my face, a loving touch I hadn't felt for so long. Then he walked over to a dining-room chair I'd thoughtfully placed in the centre of the room, sat down and patted his thigh. "Over here little lady, let's deal with this naughty behaviour of yours."
I floated over to him, and found myself face down a lot quicker than I expected. Ray always was a fast learner too. Then he slowly raised the pink satin, I could feel it creeping up my thighs until it was over my back. He rubbed one hand gently over the black lace panties. "What a shame, to have to spank this lovely creamy rear end of yours. Just how naughty have you been?"
"Very, very naughty!"
His fingertips walked up and down my thighs, making me shiver. "Do you really deserve this?"
"Yes!" I wriggled, now he was patting my bottom.
"And do you deserve to have your panties taken down?" His fingertips eased into the waistband.
"Yes!" I lifted up a little and he slowly eased the panties down, taking his time as he bared me. He left the panties half-way down my thighs, I felt more naked than if he'd taken them off.
The staid, stolid middle-aged mummy type lay across the knees of her middle-aged husband, her bottom bared invitingly. And she felt twenty years younger.
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