by W. Arthur
The weather for early June was nearly perfect: high, fleecy clouds dotted the blue sky and the temperature hovered around 80 degrees. School had just ended for the summer, and Big Bear Lake was filling up with families - mostly groups of mothers shepherding flocks of young, boisterous children toward the best patches of the brown sand that surrounded the water. Soon the air was filled with the smell of suntan lotion and hot dogs.
Sara Stinzio occupied the high, four-legged lifeguard chair as though it were a throne. And from it, she carefully scanned the collective mass of people as they darted in and out of the cool, crystal clear water. This was her fifth straight summer working as a guard at the large suburban lake, home of the Tarzan vine and the Ring bridge, and she took her job very seriously. As a recent graduate of nearby Bloomington State University, she knew she should be at least looking for a real job.
But she loved Big Bear Lake and greatly enjoyed and appreciated the responsibility that went along with being a lifeguard. She felt she just had to spend one more summer doing what she seemed to do best before she settled down to life as a graduate student in physical education and assistant track and field coach.
In college she had been a champion athlete herself, winning multiple awards in both track and field and basketball. Of course, at a little over six feet tall and a hundred and eighty pounds of pure muscle, she had the body for it. And she worked hard to maintain her lean, muscular body, even though it often intimidated members of the opposite sex.
By eleven-thirty, the lake was alive with children darting in and out of the water and splashing vigorously. Already, Sara had had to scold a group of adolescent boys for trying to dunk several younger children and had sat a number of the children down for running on the concrete deck that formed the edge of the diving area. But this was routine - nothing out of the ordinary.
She was just beginning to settle back in her chair and enjoy the feel of the sun on her broad shoulders when she felt a cold hand on her ankle. "Well, if it isn't the queen of the Amazon lifeguards," a small male voice exclaimed sarcastically.
"I thought you had the day off today, Jeremy," Sara said wearily without bothering to look down at the intruder, a relatively short and thin boy in his late teens. He was shirtless with a baggy blue swim suit.
"I do," Jeremy replied, smiling, his narrow eyes shifting back and forth between Sara and the water. "I just like hanging out here... and harassing you."
Sara sighed. "Well, why don't you see what Marion is up to in the concession stand. You can see that the lake is really crowded today. You need to move along and leave me alone to do my job."
Jeremy exhaled a humorless chuckle. "Boy, you're just no fun today, are you?"
Sara shook her head. "Probably not your kind of fun, anyway. Now, go away and leave me alone, please, Jeremy. I have a lot of kids to watch."
The boy scowled. "You really want to be a bitch today, don't you?"
Sara didn't reply. Instead, she put her head in her hands and returned to studying the water. A moment later, Jeremy disengaged from the guard stand, turned, and slowly disappeared in the direction of the concession stand. Sara watched him out the corner of her eye and breathed a sigh of relief.
Forty minutes later, Jeremy appeared again. He had a cocky smile on his youthful face and was taking occasional sips from a small paper bag. "I'm back," he announced as he neared the guard chair.
"I can see that," Sara returned, stealing a quick glance at the young intruder. Then she noticed the paper bag. "What's in the bag, Jeremy?"
Jeremy's smile widened. "Wouldn't you like to know," he taunted.
Sara looked at him again. "You better not be drinking again," she said, anger rising in her voice.
"What if I am," he replied. "There's nothing you can do about it, is there?"
Sara studied the bag for an instant, then shifted her gaze back to the lake. Jeremy was right and she knew it. His father owned the resort complex for which she worked, and Jeremy was his only son. "Alright, Jeremy," she said. "I probably can't stop you. But please go somewhere else... and don't cause any trouble; there are too many kids here. Even your father would understand that."
The teenager raised the paper bag to his lips and took another long swallow of whatever was inside. When he was finished, he manufactured a loud belch of satisfaction. After the sound had faded away, he looked around him to see if anyone was watching and was somewhat disappointed when he realized he hadn't attracted any more than very cursory and transient glances from the mass that thronged the beach area. He tried to belch again, but could only manage a mild squeak this time. This caught the attention of a group of adolescent girls and they started to giggle at him. His hairless face flushed with anger. "What are you laughing at?" he demanded disdainfully. The question just caused the girls to laugh harder and point. Now, Jeremy sputtered with escalating rage and he took another swallow from the bag.
He was about to speak again when Sara cut him off, sensing the onset of a very unpleasant confrontation. "Jeremy, please go somewhere else," she pleaded wearily. "Before things get out of hand."
The boy, now quivering all over with anger and indignation, shifted his glare from the girls to the lifeguard. "Shut up, Sara," he shrieked. "This is... is between me and them."
Sara shifted forward in the chair. "Jeremy, you're drunk and you're making a complete fool of yourself. Now, stop this stupid behavior and get out of here before someone gets hurt."
Jeremy took one more long swallow from the container in the bag, then cast the bag to the ground in disgust. It hit the soft sand with a resounding thud. "I don't have to take this shit from you... or your posse over there... You're... you're all in this together, aren't you?" He was now talking like a drunk who was just aroused from a deep alcohol-induced sleep.
Sara stood up on the footrest of the guard chair, extending her full height and stretching the material of her red spandex swim suit over her lean body like a second skin. "Jeremy, pick up your mess and get out of here... before I have to do something about your behavior." As she looked around her, she could see that not only were the girls staring at her, so was just about everyone else in the park. The scene was definitely turning ugly. She knew that she would have to act fairly quickly in order to preserve any remnant of credibility.
"You don't fuckin' scare me." Jeremy slurred his words slightly. Then he turned back to the group of girls, who were still giggling. "And I'm goin' to start with you fuckin' whores." This stopped the laughter; however, before anyone could say anything else, the enraged and inebriated boy made a clumsy lunge at the group, causing the girls to scream in terror and scatter into the water. He jumped in after them and began splashing wildly.
Now the lifeguard had seen enough. She sprang from her perch, leaped into the water, and grabbed the angry marauder by his long hair. He shrieked with surprise, pain, and rage. However, by this time, Sara herself was too angry to exert much control over her own behavior. Using her muscular arms, she dragged the boy to the beach and sat down on his back, causing him to kick and hurl epithets toward her and the gathering crowd.
Breathing heavily, Sara looked first at the squirming body beneath her, then at the collective mass of curious children and mothers that encircled her.
"Spank him," one of the mothers called.
"Yeah!" urged another.
In an instant, a chant of "Spank him, spank him," was moving through the crowd, gaining strength as it circulated. Sara looked again at the people, then a broad smile broke over her face. All of a sudden she didn't care if Jeremy Furth was the only son of the owner of Big Bear Lake. What she knew right now was that he had broken just about every rule the resort had and the crowd of mothers was demanding that she do something about it.
With a resolve that surprised her, Sara, the ex-collegiate athlete, saluted the crowd, put her strong hands on Jeremy's swim suit, and began yanking them to his thighs.
"Wha-what the fuck are you doing?" he shrieked as he felt the warm air wash over his bare bottom.
Sara smiled and looked into his tired eyes. "What the crowd wants me to do," she replied, continuing to tug at his wet suit. "You've been asking for this and now you're going to get it." Then, without waiting for an answer or any more prompting from the chanting throng, Sara shifted her body so that she was straddling the back of her intended victim and facing his thoroughly exposed posterior. She raised her right hand high over her head and brought it down as hard as she could against his right cheek. The sound of the spank echoed throughout the park and momentarily stilled the crowd. The skin beneath the palm of her hand rippled and reddened immediately.
Jeremy gasped with the sudden pain and reared his head up as though it had been shot out of a cannon. "Stop it!" he shrieked. "Stop it... that fuckin' hurts."
Sara scowled and burrowed her bottom more deeply into the small of his back. "Shut up and take all that's coming to you," she said, assaulting his bottom with ten more hard slaps.
He tried to dislodge her from his back, but she was too strong for him. "Get the fuck off me, Sara, you bitch!" he squeaked, with more fear than anger in his voice.
The lifeguard graced his already crimson bottom with fifteen more intense spanks. "Jeremy, I think we've all had enough of the 'F' word for one day. Haven't we?" As she said this, she scanned the crowd. Everyone was still gazing at her, encouraging her with their eyes and their approving smiles.
Before Sara could resume her barrage on the miscreant's posterior, a woman in a black swimsuit produced a large hairbrush. "Will this help?" she asked, holding it out for the lifeguard to see.
Sara smiled. "This should do just fine." Taking the brush, she turned back to Jeremy. "Before we're through, you will stand up and apologize to everyone here for your rude, drunken behavior."
Jeremy rolled his eyes. "In your fuckin' dreams!"
Sara's smile widened. "I was hoping you'd say something like that," she said. She gripped the brush by its long handle and brought it down hard on his sore left cheek. He screamed in surprise and pain. An instant later, she did the same to his right cheek. He screamed again and began to twist and squirm beneath her.
After these initial two strikes of the brush, Sara let loose with abandon, attacking Jeremy's bottom with a series of stinging blows that nearly left him breathless. A minute later, he lay his head down in the sand. "Please... please, Sara, stop," he said with real fear in his voice. His bottom was now dark red and heavily bruised.
Sara looked down at her victim. "What was that, Jeremy?"
The miserable boy spat sand from his mouth. "Please... stop! I... I'm sorry."
Sara struck his bottom four more times. "What are you sorry for?" she asked, obviously enjoying herself.
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