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WOMEN IN CHARGE: BOOK 1

by Austin Carr


A Strapping in Place of Seduction

It was shift change at the mini market where I worked the graveyard shift, a mind-numbing 11PM to 7AM slog, six nights a week. The pay was terrible and the job was worse, largely dealing with drunks, druggies and the other coterie of lost souls who frequented such establishments in the wee hours, but it had the one distinct advantage of many hours of solitude; perfect study time for a college freshman working his way through school. A couple of hours nap before classes in the morning, a longer one in the afternoon and I was relatively good to go. It didn't allow for much of a social life, but truth be told I'd never had much of one in high school and didn't anticipate much more success in college.

The woman on the swing shift, a thirty-something named Lucy, usually stuck around for a half hour or so after the changeover. She was funny and friendly, if a bit too reminiscent of my mother's bridge group for me to feel as warmly towards her as she seemed towards me, often touching my arm or patting my shoulder as she talked. She was always dressed in jeans or slacks and a buttoned long sleeve shirt. I once asked her why the similar ensemble every day and she told me that she'd been on a ranch most of her life, until her divorce had driven her and her daughter to the city, and that was the daily uniform. She'd just never gotten out of the habit. It wasn't a bad look, but with her close cropped brown hair, wide hips and shoulders, it didn't show her off to her best advantage. Besides, who was I to talk? I was eighteen and virtually my entire wardrobe consisted of Levi's, tee-shirts and tennis shoes.

Tonight she was ranting on about her seventeen-year-old daughter. Seems the young lady was spending too much time with her phone and not enough time getting her household chores done and Lucy was pretty tired of coming home to dirty dishes, a house in a shambles, and her daughter stretched out on the couch with a phone firmly attached to her ear. They'd had a few talks, with each one seemingly escalating in tone and volume.

"She'll be in more trouble than she can handle if I find her on her damn phone or watching TV with the house still a mess," she said darkly.

"What'll you do, ground her?" I asked.

Lucy shook her head in exasperation. "What earthly good would that do? Just give her more time to lie about and do nothing."

I scanned the empty parking lot and started counting out the register as quickly as I could. It seldom failed that some pain in the ass customer would come racing in right after I started the changeover and then bitch and moan that they had to wait three minutes to get their cheap beer or wine while I balanced out. But with the parking lot clear I dove in. "So what works if grounding is out?" I asked over my shoulder.

She gave me a tight smile. "Oh, I've found lowering her pants and blistering her butt with a strap works as good as it ever did. Usually buys at least a few weeks of really good behavior."

I lost track of the quarters for a moment, completely taken aback at the thought of Lucy whipping her daughter, who was nearly my age, but I played it off successfully. I was also excited at the thought of her taking her daughter's pants down and had less success concealing my interest. I raised my eyebrows, trying for flirtatious with just a hint of rogue, but probably falling closer to Groucho Marx without the lampblack, cigar and charm. "Heck, Lucy, if lowering pants is part of the deal, I may have to ask your daughter what she does to deserve the strap." My voice sounded a little thick to me.

Lucy laughed brightly and placed her hand lightly on my shoulder. "Oh, trust me, you don't want a strapping," she said with an emphatic shake of her head. "At least not the kind I give."

She let her hand linger, a gentle touch with a welcome familiarity, and I was surprised at how much I liked the feel of it. She was nearly my mother's age for God's sake. Not a great looker, but certainly not unattractive, especially for a woman twice my age. She didn't have the girlish shape I saw every day at school, a bit thicker and wider, more solidly and strongly built, but quite feminine despite the slacks and shirt ensemble. I took a quick look at her hand on my shoulder. The thought of that hand, or rather both of them, lowering my pants was intoxicating, certainly more than a fair trade for a few slaps with a belt.

"Why?" I asked with studied nonchalance. "What's special about your kind?"

Her hand patted my shoulder in a patronizing manner. "My strappings are meant to last. I don't particularly like giving them, so I make sure I don't have to do it again for a long time." She stretched out the word 'long' so it had three syllables and finished with a throaty laugh.

I gave a nonchalant shrug, hoping the movement wouldn't cause her to take her hand from my shoulder. "I'm sure I'd live." I counted out the last of the change and copied the figures onto the changeover sheet. As usual, Lucy was accurate to the penny.

My comment earned me another low chuckle. "Sure you would. You just wouldn't enjoy it for a while." Her hand left my shoulder, but before a pang of regret could take hold a light swat on my butt gave me a mental jolt. My stomach did a flip flop that would have done credit to a politician and my signature on the changeover looked like the marks you would make when swirling a dry pen on a sheet to see if any remaining ink could be coaxed out. With one casual smack, Lucy had somehow transformed from a female acquaintance to a woman of interest. Her hand lingered on my butt for a moment as she gave me a knowing smile. No doubt, a woman of very real interest.

I knew there must be dozens of ways to exploit this unexpected opening, some subtle, some direct, but I was familiar with few and practiced at none, so I blundered forward like a tank with no reverse. After all, talk about spanking had generated this opportunity, so I'd keep going as long as it was bearing fruit. "I'm guessing you hit a little harder than that with your strap," I grinned.

"Oh, much harder. I don't think you'd find it nearly as nice."

"Probably not. But I couldn't really say without experiencing both."

She swatted again. "I can't imagine you'd prefer the strap."

I grinned broadly, holding up my open palms at shoulder level and moving them up and down in a measuring motion. "It's a tough call. The strapping has the added benefit of having my pants taken down so..." I gave what I hoped was an insouciant shrug.

Lucy removed her hand, much to my chagrin, and took a half step back. Her expression fluttered between bewildered and appraisal before finally settling on the latter. "So should I give you a strapping so you can decide?" she asked softly.

Not really, I thought to myself. I want you to take my pants down, become overcome with lust, forget about the strap and move on to other, more rewarding things. That was the dream scenario, the one I was playing for, literally risking my ass for, but I had neither the confidence to say it aloud or the experience to know that it might well have worked. So I raised my eyebrows and nodded. Eloquent to the last.

"A real whipping with the strap?" she persisted. "Like my daughter gets?"

I was saved from making another wordless, nodding reply by a customer charging in for a pack of cigarettes. By the time I'd rung up his Camels and watched him scurry out of the door, frantically fumbling at the cellophane barrier to his nicotine fix, I'd found a few words. I glanced over at Lucy to see if the interruption had dampened the mood, half expecting to see her with her purse over her shoulder and waving her way out. But she was still looking at me expectantly, wearing the faintest of grins.

"It'd be a pretty sad state of affairs if I couldn't take what your daughter gets from you." I thought I sounded fairly convincing.

Lucy nodded slowly. "Yes, I'm sure it wouldn't be much of a punishment for you. Probably more fun than anything else." Her tone was taunting and even though her grin was slight, her eyes were laughing more than enough to make up for it.

"I don't know about fun," I demurred. "But probably a worthwhile experience."

"You're sure about that?"

No question about the taunting this time. "Sure enough," I offered with a good bit of bravado. I wasn't about to let her have the upper hand in our little game of dare and double dare.

She stared at me for a few seconds, bright eyed and smiling broadly, before shrugging her shoulders in apparent resignation. With a final short laugh she turned around and reached for her purse. I was absurdly disappointed at the end of our verbal jousting, but I affected indifference.

"Heading home?" I asked lamely.

"Yep. Maybe I'll grab that strap and come back to give you that demonstration." With a mocking grin, she marched out into the night.

I took a long, steadying breath as I watched her leave, following her tan slacks with far more interest than I had in any of her hundred or so previous exits. Funny how I always saw her as a little heavy below the waist and now she simply looked solid and strong - no doubt the residual affect of a stimulating hand smack and even more stimulating conversation. In any event, her leaving left me feeling a little shaken and stupid, wondering why I'd been so intent on baiting her and why I'd thought that particular approach held any promise. Nothing wrong with flirting with the woman, and certainly nothing wrong with hoping that something might come from the exercise, but why on earth had I leaned so heavily on the punishment angle? I shook my head and bit my lower lip in disgust. Smoothness with girls had never been my strength, but tonight represented a black mark that I would no doubt replay and agonize over for many nights to come.

After a few minutes my adrenaline eased off and the trembling stopped. For once I welcomed the occasional customer as they took my mind away from, if not completely off, Lucy and her strap. I knew she'd been teasing when she left, but all I could think of was how obvious I'd been and how ridiculous I must have seemed to her. I made an angry promise to myself never to broach the subject again and to feign ignorance should she ever allude to it.

The time melted towards 2:00AM, the start of the dead time when alcohol could no longer be sold, thus obliterating the customer base, and with it any concern, or hope I had that Lucy had been serious. As soon as the clock passed two, I headed back to quickly restock the coolers. I worked rapidly, figuring the sooner I got through the sooner I could break out a text book and start unraveling the academic mystery that was Culture of Western Man.

From the cold room, the front door chime made only the faintest jingle. I shoved a few more milk cartons into place before heading out.



© Austin Carr
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.