by Ryan Rowland
That 'girl-next-door look'. Chris Freeman had heard the cliché a few times. It referred to a girl with a fresh, wholesome, natural beauty who didn't require a lot of makeup or fancy clothes to make a guy's heart do flip-flops. The rising high school senior might drool over magazine centerfolds, but he knew that when he found the real-life girl of his dreams, she would have that girl-next-door look.
But the phrase didn't have personal significance until the Taylor family bought the house next door. The homes were fairly close together in the quiet suburban neighborhood, and Chris had been wondering what kind of new neighbors they might get. It was a hot summer day in early July when he noticed that the 'For Sale' sign was gone from the front yard. A few days later, a moving van backed up into the driveway and a car stopped in front of the house. It was a brand-new 1970 Oldsmobile, and Chris stepped out onto the porch for a better look. From the throaty rumble of the engine, he guessed it must have the optional 455 cubic-inch Rocket V8, and he wondered why someone would buy such a car in a drab gray color when they could have had a cool red one. A middle-aged couple stepped out of the car. The man was tall and thin, with an aloof look, and Chris felt an instant dislike for him.
Then a girl climbed out from the back of the car, and Chris's heart skipped a beat. She looked to be about his age, with sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and a really cute face. Her jeans and tee-shirt were just snug enough to highlight the curves of her trim figure. She stopped to look around for a moment as her parents walked toward the house. Chris waved and gave her what he hoped was a friendly smile, and not a goofy grin.
"Come along, Wendy. We have lots of work to do." Mr. Taylor's voice was curt and authoritative.
"Yes sir. Coming, Dad," she replied dutifully. There was a bit of a southern drawl in her lilting voice as Wendy followed her parents toward the front door.
Wendy had been bitterly disappointed when her dad's promotion required him to relocate to an office in another state. It meant she had to leave all her friends behind and spend her senior year at a high school where she would be the new girl and not know anyone. Seeing the cute guy with the wavy brown hair waving from the porch of the house next door was the first positive thing about the move. She might be friendless as she arrived at their new home, but Wendy didn't have to stay that way. She looked over toward Chris and returned his wave with a shy smile.
Chris's heart was now pounding to make up for the beat it had skipped earlier. Wendy looked like the ultimate girl-next-door. As the new neighbors disappeared inside, another clichéd phrase was running through his mind: 'love at first sight'.
In the course of the next few days, Chris had the opportunity to meet and become acquainted with the Taylor family. Wendy proved to be just as delightful as his first impression had suggested, and there was a look in her eyes that said she was favorably impressed with Chris also. Her mom seemed to be a nice lady, and although he didn't care for her dad, he was smart enough to hide that fact and be extremely polite and respectful. He knew it was obvious he had an interest in Wendy, and he didn't want to give her dad any reason to put a damper on it. He had to convince Mr. Taylor that he was not just the typical teenage Romeo trying to get into his daughter's pants - though what made him different was hard to convincingly explain, even to himself.
Chris had been dating two other girls, undecided which he liked better. Both of them were surprised and disappointed at the sudden lack of attention as he put those plans on hold to focus on Wendy. He was a frequent visitor in the Taylor home, offering to help them get settled in any way he could. As an only child, Wendy had always been stuck with a lot of household responsibilities, and she was glad, not only for the attention from a good-looking guy, but to have help with mowing the lawn and her other chores. They were soon on the way to becoming good friends.
Wendy's dad was very strict. While he had no problem with his daughter and Chris doing chores together or watching television if he or his wife was present, he was slow to allow them any unsupervised time. But Chris continued to be respectful, and finally earned approval to take Wendy out on a date.
Wendy asked Chris to please follow all the rules, letting her parents know exactly where they were going, and have her home on time, so she wouldn't get in trouble. That was okay with Chris. He genuinely liked and respected Wendy and hoped there would be many more dates in the future, so he didn't want to do anything to blow it. She rewarded him with an affectionate little kiss when they returned and he walked her to her door. Chris barely felt his feet touch the ground as he returned home. He was in love.
The budding romance was going well. Chris and Wendy were frequent companions and he was allowed to date her several more times, but always under tight restrictions and the watchful eyes of her parents. In the little time they had alone, he was a little frustrated that she stayed fairly close to her strict upbringing and wouldn't let his hands wander very far. But he respected her limits and wasn't going to let his impatience spoil a good thing. When school started, Chris was delighted to find that Wendy was in two of his classes. That gave them a good excuse to spend even more time together while studying.
It was an unusually warm fall Saturday morning, and Chris was looking forward to his date with Wendy that night. He knew he still wouldn't be taking any excessive liberties with her, but he didn't care. He honestly had more fun on a date with Wendy, just holding her hand, than when he had dated another girl who allowed him to feel her up.
Chris was walking by the side of his house when he heard voices raised next door. From where he stood, the half-open window of Wendy's room was no more than fifteen feet away. He couldn't make out all the words, but Wendy sounded distressed, and her dad was obviously angry. He knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but couldn't keep himself from moving closer.
Keeping out of sight behind a shrub, Chris heard Wendy's plaintive plea, "Dad, please no! I'm sorry!"
Suddenly, the voices stopped and it was quiet for several moments. The next thing he heard was a loud 'smack', followed by a painful cry from Wendy.
Chris gasped as he listened to more smacks while Wendy whimpered and cried. He looked toward the window. The curtain was pulled almost all the way, but he saw Mr. Taylor's raised hand holding some sort of paddle. The hand quickly dropped from view, and immediately, there was another loud smack as Wendy yelped in pain.
Chris's heart pounded as he realized that Wendy was getting a spanking. And the sharp, crisp smacks sounded like a hard surface striking bare flesh! His mind reeled at the thought of the beautiful eighteen-year-old girl getting a bare-bottom paddling from her father. His parents hadn't spanked him since he was a kid, and just a few light swats had helped teach him right from wrong. It was hard to imagine someone his own age getting spanked like that, especially a girl!
He trembled with conflicting emotions. Half of him was overwhelmed with sympathy and outrage. He wanted to rush into the room and save her. He would snatch the paddle from her father's hand, punch him in the mouth, and order him to never touch her again. He would be Wendy's hero and she would love him forever.
But Chris's other side was reveling in it as he listened to her cries and pictured in his mind the sight of the paddle striking her lovely nude bottom. (He was sure it would be lovely, though he'd never seen it.) His sudden erection throbbed and he wanted it to continue as he imagined taking the paddle in his hand and spanking her himself.
Chris could hardly breathe as the spanking went on. The sharp cracks of the paddle came at a slow, measured pace, punctuated by Wendy's cries and pleas for it to stop. It must have been no more than a two or three minutes, but time stood still as Wendy sobbed and begged for mercy. How many smacks had she received? Thirty? Forty? Finally, it stopped and he heard her dad's voice warning she would get more next time if the offending behavior was repeated. Wendy promised to be good and there was the sound of a door closing.
Her muffled sobbing was beginning to taper off as Chris recovered his presence of mind, silently backed away, and went inside. Alone in his room, he locked the door, lowered his trousers, and stroked himself to an explosive release as he replayed the episode in his mind. Afterward, he was furious with himself for taking pleasure in his girlfriend's pain, but he couldn't stop thinking about it and it still excited him.
Later that afternoon, Chris was loitering on his front porch, hoping Wendy would come outside. He didn't want to intrude too soon after her ordeal, but he needed to be sure she wasn't grounded and would feel up to keeping their date. Finally, she emerged, moving a bit stiffly as she descended the front steps.
"Hi, Wendy!" Chris called out as he leaped off the porch and crossed the yard. There was a look of concern on his face as he approached her. "Are you okay?"
Wendy had initially smiled at seeing Chris. But she realized the implication of his question, and suddenly a look of utter horror came over her face. "You know, don't you? Oh God, no! The window was open and you heard everything!" Sobbing with shame, she turned and fled back inside the house.
"Wendy, wait!" Chris called out. But the door slammed and it was too late. He turned and went back to his room, cursing himself for embarrassing her. Obviously, the date was off.
Wendy's parents had come from a small town in the rural South. Disciplining their children with a paddle, strap, or open hand was normal. 'Spare the rod, and spoil the child' was taken literally. Wendy had been spanked for misbehavior since she was a girl. She didn't like it, but she'd always accepted it as normal. And she didn't doubt that her parents loved her, even though they had made it clear she would be subject to their authority and discipline as long as she lived under their roof.
But she knew the culture was different in other places, and she was horribly ashamed for anyone else to know that, at age eighteen, she was still spanked. Given the choice, Wendy would have preferred to receive a severe spanking every day in secret rather than to let anyone outside her family know about it. And for her boyfriend to know that she had gotten a bare-bottom paddling was the ultimate humiliation. All hopes for the romance were destroyed and she could never bear to face him again. She hated him for knowing! How could she even stand to live next door to him? And what if he told someone else?! Wendy would soon be the laughingstock of the whole school! She just wanted to die!
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.