The only good thing to say after the call, was that at least it was after lunch; both because I doubt if I would have been able to eat anything, with the butterflies in my tummy, and because I didn't have that much of the day left.
I stayed in my office, door closed, as much as I could, and avoided the other women as best as I was able. Now was not the time for me to try to avoid answering why I was so upset, or my eyes all watery.I was mostly successful, but I did hear some whispering as I left for the day, with mumbled goodbyes, from our perky little receptionist to a couple of the other women, about how upset I had been, and upset was the word she used, not mad, I'm sure the women picked up the difference, after my call from my husband.
I could still hear them as I decided not to wait for the elevator but fled down the stairs instead, and at least they weren't laughing, but sounded sympathetic as one said it sounded as if the honeymoon was over....
I made it home, all in one piece, no tickets, no accidents, and, no divine intervention. I had tried listening to my favorite soft rock station, but that really didn't help calm any nerves.Besides tummy troubles, my mind was a whirl. I couldn't believe this was all happening!
I was mad, too. Mad at the tickets, mad at the officer that had stopped Jack, mad about the bills, and mostly, when I stopped trying to blame the world, mad at me. The only one it seemed as if I wasn't mad at was Jack.
Got home, ran inside, feeling more and more like I was 13 instead of 25, and fled upstairs, sniffly again, and most sorry for myself.I stopped in my tracks when I got into our bedroom, and saw that the corner I was supposed to occupy, the one by the window, did indeed have my comfy rocking chair gone, and it was bare bare bare. And I noticed, that the curtains were drawn back, and the blinds were open... oh god no!
The window didn't face the street, but rather our backyard, and our odd little wrap around garage. If I were to stand in that corner, with it all open like that, no one walking by from the street would see anything, but, my husband would see me there if he pulled his truck around....I wondered if he realized that the window was open to view, debated about shutting the curtains or blinds, and then decided to bite the bullet, and leave it as was, that he intended it to be like that.
I was in enough trouble already, and something I had learned (though at times my parents despaired of me learning any parental lessons!) growing up was that when one was in trouble, best to NOT ignore what you were told to do.
So, I went potty, a Bad case of the nervous pees, went to what was apparently going to become My corner, took a Big breath, and did nothing.
Sooo, took another breath and unbuttoned and and unzipped my grey summer slacks, and shimmied them down to my ankles, took another breath, and peeled my little pink bikinis down, the same ones I had so much trouble keeping on and trying to get up this morning with all of Jack's help.
And then I put my nose in the corner, and waited.
Corners really, really suck.
I think I was there an eternity, perhaps 30 seconds or so, when I made that rerealization. Entirely too much time to do Nothing other than think, that here I am, a grown, married woman, stuck with her nose in the corner and her big old butt sticking out, like some schoolgirl! And waiting for her husband to come home and Spank that bare bottom! And then I remembered that my bare bottom was sticking out by the window, for the whole world to see!
I became quite sniffly again.And felt most sorry for myself, and my situation. And I thought about how stupid this whole corner thing was (remarkably though, I really didn't think about whether or not my upcoming promised spanking was unfair, unwelcome and unwanted, yes, but I can't say I thought it was unfair. Mostly I didn't try to think about the spanking part at all. And it was easier to forget if I concentrated on the indignity of being bare bottomed in the corner), and then I thought of how dumb I must look, and I looked down, and the sight of my panties and pants puddled in little cloth ropes around my ankles was enough to take me from sniffly to teary just like that.
I decided that bare bottom was bad enough, but bare with pants and panties down, blouse not covering more than the upper third of my fanny, was even worse. So, I started to step out of them, but then couldn't remember whether he had said to just lower them, or take them off, and I panicked!
What if he wanted them on, and I took them off!? Or, what if he wanted them off, and I left them on by mistake!?
Sniffly, and wiping tears away, I was almost dancing in place in indecision as to what to do, when I heard his truck pull up, and around back. I risked a peek out the window, my shoulders squarely in the corner, just turned my head a wee bit, to see if he was looking, and he Was!
Hurriedly put my nose back to the wall, wanting to disappear.And then I heard Jack come in the house, walk up the stairs, and into our bedroom.He didn't say anything at first, just stood there, I could tell, looking at me, I could feel his eyes on my rump, and I could feel my fanny clenching and unclenching as if it had a mind of its own.
"Well, sweetie, it seems as if you can behave and do what you are supposed to when you try."
This, in a dry, self assured masculine tone.My otherwise sarcastic retort never came, but was replaced by a rather meek "Y-yes dear..." and those two words were enough to crack what minimal reserve and dignity I had left, and then I sobbed out an "I-I'm soooo sorrryyyyyyy!" and then he was there behind me, reaching out to me, and I turned to bury myself in my husband's arms, tripping on my forgotten lowered clothes as I did, falling into his protective embrace, as he kissed and shusshed and held me.
Angie, and yes more is coming
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