by Rosanna Young
John stretched aching shoulders, clasping his hands together and pushing them over his head. He knew he was damp with sweat. He could feel his t-shirt plastered to his back as he paused in his work. Hopefully, this was the last time in his life he would be moving. He'd been hauling his stuff into the old Victorian mansion he'd inherited from his grandmother for most of the day.
There was a big office, to the right inside the front door. He intended to run his business from there. He'd already had a post installed next to the mailbox where he could hang his shingle. He definitely wasn't ready to work yet, but he was anxious to get his business sign in place. He actually researched the area and knew there was no one who provided what he did. John was extremely fit for his 40 years and he was getting a thrill knowing someone was watching him intently from the house next door. Flexing again, he turned and went into the house.
Ida watched as the young man who had been lifting and carrying heavy looking boxes and bulky pieces of furniture all day, stretched like a lithe cat, tight muscles and wide shoulders. She might be 85, but that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate a fine man when she saw one. It must be her friend Hetty's grandson. She hadn't seen him around in quite a few years. Certainly not since Jill had moved in with her.
"Have you seen whoever's moving in, Grandma?" Jill asked, as she walked into the kitchen.
"No, not really," Ida lied.
"I wonder what he does? Is he very old, do ya think?"
"I'm sure we'll find out sooner or later. Maybe you should make some cookies."
Now, her grandmother KNEW Jilly hated to bake. Hell, she rather knit him a god damn sweater than bake cookies. And she didn't know how to knit either. But Jillian also knew that her grandmother expected her to do it anyway.
Ever since Jillian's divorce, when she hadn't had anywhere else to live or any way to pay the ridiculously large amounts of money it took to support yourself these days, she had lived with her grandmother.
So, at 35, Jilly was no longer subjected to the tyranny known as husband. Instead she was at the beck and call of a tornado named Grandmother.
Jilly tied an apron over her sundress, and resigned herself to her fate. Despite what her grandmother thought, she had made chocolate chip cookies a couple of times. After all they had been Harry's favorite, back when she had actually given a shit what he liked. He had driven all thoughts of wanting to please him completely away, when whatever she tried was always wrong, poorly done, or just plain stupid.
Knowing the best recipe was on the back of the chips package, she set the oven to preheat, and started collecting the ingredients.
John stepped back, admiring the hand-painted sign hanging on the wrought iron post standing at the juncture of his footpath and the sidewalk. Halo Adjustment Services it proclaimed. A play on words, certainly. One that would never be taken for anything but its real meaning except for himself.
Half an hour later, he had attached a couple of links of chain to each end of the bottom of his sign, readying it for another sign to hang under the first. Turning to walk back into the house, he realized there was a ruckus of some sort going on in the house next door. Whoever was having such a shameful temper tantrum deserved a damn good spanking was his first thought, as he made his way back into the house shaking his head in disbelief.
Meanwhile, Jilly was having a difficult time of it. After all, it HAD been ten years since she had been enticed by the sight of a man to bake. Reminding herself how badly THAT had turned out, she was even more resigned to dump the whole lot in the trash.
First sifting when she shouldn't, and almost forgetting the baking soda, she finally got the dough mixed. Then she lowered the beaters into the bowl, thinking she could mix in the chips that way, and chocolate chips flew everywhere, leaving her to believe there weren't even enough left for the cookies.
Already exasperated, Jilly just threw blobs of cookie dough on the tray and threw it in the oven. Filling a second tray with more blobs of raw dough and setting it aside to wait for the first tray to bake, she set about sweeping up the chips that still lay scattered over the floor.
The search for wayward chips had uncovered the latest gossip newspaper, and she had instead gotten lost on a story of whose husband had cheated on who with whom, and whose diet had gone completely to hell. She totally forgot to check on the cookies in the oven. The smell of burning cookies awoke her to the fact that smoke was billowing out of the oven door.
"Oh fuck!" she yelled, at the same time flinging the tray of smoking cookies into the back yard.
"What the heck is going on out here?!" her Grandmother yelled, coming around the corner from the hallway to confront Jill in the kitchen.
"I burned the god damned mother fuckin' cookies, that's what!"
Jill never saw that first swat coming, but it made her turn to face her Grandmother, who stood armed with the widest wooden spoon she had ever seen.
"What the fuck?!"
"I've had enough of that language, young lady! And what kind of mess have you made? I can't believe it!" Waving the spoon in front of her grand daughter's face, she demanded the young woman turn around so she could give her the licks she deserved..
"You're out of your fucking mind!" Jilly countered, seriously not considering how bad it sounded.
Jilly knew she had gone too far the moment the words were out of her mouth, but it was too late then. Besides, she still had no intention of letting her grandmother spank her with that spoon, whether she deserved it or not.
Turning to go back into the house, Jilly instead found herself being propelled by a vice like grip on her ear lobe as she was dragged towards the house next door.
John came through from his kitchen when he heard the impatient ringing of the front door. Not content with one short buzz, whoever was at the door seemed determined to keep their finger on the button until he got there.
No one could have been more surprised than he, to find a bristling mad little white haired lady who must have been 80, reaching over her head to keep a tight grip on the ear lobe of the most luscious woman he had seen in years.
She managed to look chagrined, even as she grimaced at the pinching grip holding her in place.
"Is it true, what the sign says?!" demanded the older woman.
"Huh, what?" John said, looking confused.
Pointing over her shoulder with a huge wooden spoon, the woman said, "Halo adjusting. That's what my mother called it anyway."
Smiling slightly, hoping the younger woman didn't see, he recovered quickly and said, "Yeah, sure, of course."
"I wasn't sure you'd be open for business yet, seein' as you're just moving in and all, so I brought this," she said, thrusting the huge spoon in his direction. "Do a good job." So saying she thrust Jilly forward by the lobe of her ear and stalked off, leaving Jilly and John to stare at each other.
Not one to let the opportunity of a life time to pass him by, Jack pulled his disciplinarian facade out of his back pocket and slipped it on.
Gripping her firmly above her left elbow, Jon steered her towards his office. There was only a big mahogany desk and a straight back wooden chair in there at present, but he didn't need anything else. He set the spoon on the desk before turning the petulant young woman to face him.
She raised her eyes to his, fire spitting from her own as she said, "You are seriously kidding here, right?!"
"Oh, absolutely not."
Unconsciously, she struggled a bit to get away from him, but he held her in place.
"Tell me something," he said. "Just what did you do, that made her drag you over here like this?"
"My Grandmother," she mumbled.
"OK, your grandmother."
"I burned the fuckin' cookies!"
Jilly felt him tense up as she spat out the foul words. Honestly she hardly ever swore, but today had been too much. Besides, Jilly had not been so aware of a man in years. Her arm tingled where he gripped her. His strong fingers held her tight, but he wasn't hurting her. He stood in front of her, his hard body straining against his sweat dampened t-shirt. He emanated strength and kindness at the same time and his touch had already extended itself to a part of her that hadn't felt the touch of a man in months.
John looked at the woman before him her expression a mixture of fear and I-dare-you and wondered if she felt the sexual zing that was winging its way through him. A touch of flour graced her cheek and made its way into the side of her hair, the rest of it which was caught up in a long dark braid hanging down her back. The end of her braid was resting on the crest of her bottom, teasing him. She still wore an old fashioned apron over the casual sundress she wore to escape the heat.
"I gather you used those exact words to describe them too," he said grimly. "Actually, I was outside before, and I heard every word. I couldn't help thinking at the time that this was exactly what you needed." He saw the surprise on her face at his words turn into a worried frown as she realized he just might do what her grandmother asked of him. "Do you deny that you should be spanked?" he asked.
Jilly actually winced as he spoke that word out loud. She had been denying it to herself for years, but obviously her body couldn't, because hearing those words come out of the mouth of this gorgeously sexy man, words that she had always wanted to hear, caused her feminine parts to swell and ache even as the rest of her twisted with anxiety.
"Uh, I'm, no, uh that is..."
"That's what I thought," he said. "I need to do a couple of things first, wait right here," he finished, and he pushed her face into the nearest corner.
Whirling to face him, she practically spit, "You've got to be fucking kidding!"
When she saw that she had seriously angered him, she turned her face to the wall but not before two sharp smacks landed, one to each side of her bottom.
At that moment, the kettle whistled in the kitchen. They both heard it, and he turned leaving her to stew. John was glad to get away from the volatile situation that had its nose in his office corner. Hell, he didn't even know her name and still his cock was fully engaged. He hoped she hadn't noticed, but then again, he was pretty impressive, if he did say so himself. He had to do a half a skip and a shrug as he tried to adjust himself from the bite of his zipper, but had it somewhat under control by the time he turned off the stove. He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms across his chest to think.
Her grandmother must be his grandmother's friend, the one he remembered from his visits growing up. He didn't think he had ever met the beauty in the other room before.
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