Friday, June 12, 2009

Moody girl

A repost, of course, because sometimes I feel like this...
I heard the music playing as I ran up to the front door, the windows were open, and I could hear it wafting down to me. And I recognized the song, and knew it was near the end, and held my breath. It ended, and I stood there for a moment, waiting, and then, damn. The same song started again.

Angie was in one of her moods.

I call it being depressed, she calls it moody.

And I knew it without going into the house. Because of that song.

Lynyrd Skynrd's 'Tuesday's Gone', 7 minutes and 30 seconds.

Now, if it had gone on to something else on the cd, then no problem. But it hadn't. So it meant Angie girl had looped it, playing it over and over and over. I sighed and went inside. I knew where she would be, knew what I would find.

Angie was normally a happy go lucky woman, wicked sense of humor, playful and fun, in bed and out, but certain things, like music, the weather, a passing comment, could get her 'moody', just that fast, like flicking on a light switch. Click. Mood change. And if left too long, it got worse. And everything had been conspiring against her. She hated dark grey skys,and prolonged rains... both of which we had had. And the couple of days we had seen sun, she had went in to work when it was dark, and come home in the dark. So, I knew what I would find as I walked upstairs.

Angie would be in the back loft area. I didn't know how she would be dressed, but the rest, I knew. She would be sitting in the bay window seat, staring out the window, into the dark and the grey and the rain, not able to see the ocean or the mountains. Just grey, reinforcing her mood.

And she would have a drink in her hand.

A glass, not plastic, but a glass of rum and coke, barely sipped, but she liked the clink of the ice, and the smell, and the taste. And she would be sitting there, hardly blinking, just looking.

I got upstairs, and there she was. In the window seat, legs curled under her in that way women have, glass in hand, song playing through...

As if I needed another clue, she didn't even say hi, and Angie always says hi, even if she's mad, she says hi. But now, just looking. I walked up behind her, kissed her head, and held her. Told her hi, she said hi back.

Letting the song finish, a big mistake I had learned before, to just cut it off. When it did finish, I was there, flicking the cd off, finding another cd, one to cheer her up, a little at a time. I put on her Getz/Gilberto cd, of 'The Girl from Ipanema' fame, and the smooth, Warm sounds of the Brazillian jazz flowed through the room.

But I knew what else she needed. I took her by the hand, and led her, gently , and unresisting, to the bedroom, sat down, and pulled her to me, then lowered her baby blue yoga pants to her ankles, and then her little lace panties. Over the lap, still unresisting, still not saying anything, not really even there. Which wasn't a good sign either.

So, hating to have to do this, but knowing she needed it, I started spanking her. Like a bad tasting medicine, that would help in the end. I started out firm, but not overly hard, but soon put some snap into it, and was rewarded by some signs of life, some oohs and Ohs and feet coming up... It was then that I made the spanks sting even more, my palm covering all of her plump little bottom, making it dance and wiggle, but no real time to enjoy it now, this was for something different. And then the tears started, and the soft crying, and the letting it all go, and releasing...

I softened the spanks, but didn't stop them, until I could feel that there was nothing left of the mood, till she was back. I let her there for a moment, over my lap, still softly crying, her bare little bottom all red and hot, and stroked it gently, and she sighed and cooed and her body went soft. I stroked for a moment more, then sat her up, fanny just hanging off my lap, her arms around my neck, my arms around waist, hand on her bottom. I wiped her eyes with my sleeve, and she smiled at me through the tears, and said hi....


Now, originaly, I wrote this for a girlfriend of mine, but after, realized when I didn't put the full title, only the last part, and left off the FF, people took it as they wanted, some saw it as FF, others MF. All what people want to see, I guess.

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