by Sara Dora
Our laughter ... our words ... the simple pleasures that we share.
The delight when we discover something new.
Exploring depths lain dormant since before...
I don't remember when.
Was it in another time and place?
A different body?
I think our souls have remained the same
A continuous inner substance - passing through the universe.
Passing through and recognizing you.
Remembering our union
and how we played among the galaxies.
Or, was it in the ocean's depths - behind a crater
where we knelt and pledged our souls into eternity?
Somewhere, in my mind's eye
I remember you and the stars and the sea."
He stood in front of the wall of windows overlooking the tarmac, his arms folded across his chest, lips slightly pursed, teeth briefly catching his upper lip. There was a hint of moisture on his brow.
Will she really be on that flight? Maybe she's changed her mind. She sounded so unsure when we talked last night. Lexi, Lexi, Lexi. He chanted her name in his head. Be on that flight, sweets. Please be on that flight.
The airline's representative watched the tall man pace the length of the windows, return to his seat, settle in, then stand again. She watched him run a hand through his hair, then slip both of them into his jeans' pockets, and pace again. Trying to be unobtrusive, she stared at him, but it was no use. He was far too attractive to ignore. Mostly gray hair mixed with brown. I love that look. Must be over six foot. Nice hands. Lord, I love to look at a man's hands. He sure looks anxious. Bet he's meeting a woman and they kiss right away.
They met online in a spanking chat room, sharing bits and pieces of themselves, checking each other out as newbies do. And when they discovered they both had written spanking stories, they made their way to the spanking sites that carried their tales. In the beginning, they posted feedback as others did - polite words, stingy with emotion, but lots of 'wonderful' and 'intense story' and 'more soon, please'. Then she wrote him a longer private note, telling him how uneasy one of his stories made her feel - how she wanted to smack him for treating his story lover the way he had - how she got scared and excited at the same time.
He was polite, but only to a point, maintaining his reserve, mouthing a cliché - different strokes for different folks.
"But she was so exposed and vulnerable," Lexi complained, and Scott laughed, enjoying her reaction and the indignation she showed.
He inhaled sharply when they announced her flight's arrival, and slowly stood. This is it. She's either on this flight or it's over. Lexi, please...
Halfway across the country, she got cold feet. What if he doesn't like me? What if he's just being polite? What if we don't hit it off in person the way we do online? What if...? Her throat was tight with anxiety. When the flight attendant finally announced preparations for landing, she tried to calm her nerves, certain when she saw him she wouldn't remember to say hello.
Some of his stories had unnerved her, and she was determined to ignore him. Just one more arrogant and dominant male, she thought, unable to admit her attraction. She successfully ignored him ... until several stories later, she was compelled to read, and was incensed with his devious story line. She laced into him in a private email, telling him that she hoped he wasn't really a bully and an unfeeling man in real life.
He didn't ignore her comments, nor did he laugh at her - easing her into dialogue and gently teasing. She picked up the proffered bait, and many emails later, more comfortable with him, dropped her guard and teased him back.
The pictures she had sent were vague – a slender woman with dark brown hair, her face mostly in profile or hidden, always a hint of a smile, always a distant pose. The picture in his mind was clearer - her personality in her emails more open, more effusive, sometimes bratty, other times teasing, and a few times, enticing and sensual.
"If we ever meet," Alexis teased him one night, sipping wine while they exchanged emails. "What will you do with me?"
"Spank and bed you, of course. Christ! What did you think?"
He grinned, remembering that conversation. He had been very explicit about what he wanted to do to her and knew from her return messages that she was blushing furiously. He was eager to tease and touch her and see that blush for himself.
The concourse in the St. Louis airport was always crowded, and at this time of year, unbearably so. Hordes of people filled the aisles and the moving walkways, hurrying to and fro just for a chance to plant themselves somewhere else to wait and hurry through life once again. Scott stood back, away from the crowd, watching the passengers as they exited the jet way.
And there she was ... he recognized her right away.
It didn't take too long for either of them to open up to each other. She had been widowed for four years; he was still married, but was a husband in name only. True, he loved his vanilla wife - couldn't imagine life without her and their two children, but his wife had been comatose for three long years, felled by a freak accident. Doctors had warned him she could remain in this state indefinitely. Signs of brain activity were minimal and vague at best, and they urged him to consider whether he wanted to keep her alive with machines. The chances of her full recovery were slim, but he held out hope anyway.
Friends encouraged him to move forward, get a little enjoyment out of life, and live again. He wasn't looking for a new love. He just wanted companionship, someone who would listen, care, share herself with him on a short-term basis, and of course, enjoy being spanked. He wasn't looking for day-to-day, just an occasional tête-à-tête. The spanking chat rooms gave him hope someone else was looking for the same thing and felt the same way.
When she teased him once too often, he told her she was in dire need of a spanking and he wished she were close enough to put over his knee. She bratted him back, saying he'd never make her cry.
"I don't want to give you pain, Lexi. I want to touch your body until I master your mind, your psyche. I want to make you gasp from my touch, from my fingers caressing you, invading all your tender places ... tease you until your arousal is so great, and the heat inside you so intense ... you'll take what I give you and beg for more."
She was so embarrassed and aroused by his words and the picture he painted of what he'd do to her, she didn't answer his email for several days.
Her eyes scanned the crowds of people surrounding the gate, positive she would know him right away, certain he would have arrived in St. Louis before her flight. They had agreed to meet here - a central location for both of them. She had flown in from her home in Naples, Florida, he from San Diego. No one knew either of them here; their privacy would be assured. He had insisted someone know where she was - for her security and peace of mind, and she had agreed. A close friend knew her location, and would be expecting her phone call every day.
He told her he'd flash a sign with her name on it if she didn't spot him within a minute of her arrival. She laughed, certain she'd know him right away.
Where is he?
"I can't wait to spank you, sweets," he murmured, coming up behind her and wrapping her in his arms.
"Scott ..." she breathed, turning to face him, suddenly at ease.
"Lexi." His lips curved up as they shared their first face-to-face smile.
"Wicked man." She sighed.
"You got that right." He grinned, bending his head to kiss her.
She stood on tiptoe, her arms around his neck as she kissed him back, the first of many intimacies they would share over the long weekend.
The emails increased in frequency as they shared more personal details, and then began to share their day-to-day lives with each other. He told her about his wife, the visits by her bedside, the children who missed their mother, how lonely he was sometimes. She told him about her husband, the enormous gap he left in her life when he died, the emptiness she felt at times.
"I have this pain in my shoulder," he said one night as they whispered to each other across the continent. "It's chronic and I worry I'll become dependent on meds."
"You need a massage, Scott, a deep penetrating massage," she murmured in sympathy.
"The last thing I need is for someone to pound the hell out of me," he grumbled. "I won't feel good until the pounding stops."
"Scott," she breathed into the phone, "I won't pound. I'll ease the pain away, gently. I promise it won't hurt at all."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
They gravitated toward each other ... carefully ... wondering ... sometimes wishing...
"Have you been waiting long?" she asked, still wrapped in his embrace.
"A few lifetimes," he murmured, kissing her again.
"You ... you feel good," she said softly, burrowing into his chest, instantly at ease in his arms.
"Not as good as you do, brat-angel," he husked, his arousal building, his breath just a little ragged. "Come on. Let's take this elsewhere, where we can have some privacy."
They had reservations in an old elegant downtown hotel. Scott had chosen it so they could enjoy the view of the city's famous 'arches', the Gateway to the West, and also because the hotel had exquisite bedrooms and baths and twenty-four hour room service.
"I'm going to spank you as soon as we get to our room," he murmured in her ear as they sat in the back of a taxi.
"That soon?" She arched a brow, certain he was teasing her.
"Sooner if you don't behave," he threatened, mock anger in his voice.
She laughed. He gave her a stern look. She laughed again but quickly squealed when he pinched her bottom.
Chuckling, he held her close and murmured naughty things in her ear, making her face turn from pink to fiery red until she had to bury her nose in his chest.
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