Crying ain’t going to fix anythin

I paced the small dorm room as all the harsh realities pounded my mind. What should I do? Should I take care of it? Should I just drop out? Can I afford not to end it? What if it cute? What are my parents going to say? How could I be so stupid? I want my mommmy!

The mixture of emotions overwhelmed me. I collapsed onto the futon, curlly up into a ball as the tears started to come. My life was over. I was sure of it. There was nothing left to do. All my dreams had been dashed in one stupid move.

I was so absorbed in my own self wallow to notice my roommate enter. I had left the box sitting on the floor and she instantly knew why I was crying. “Girl, you need to relax! It ain’t the end of the world. Just go to the doctors, and they can take care of it.” My roommate said with an attitude which only comes from growing up in the hood. It was crass like a seargent major, and just as practical.

“What!?” I cried back.

“Crying ain’t going to fix anythin'” she replied.

“Sniff, yea…” I conceeded. Crying wasn’t going to fix anything but it sure distracted from the severity of the problem I faced.

“So get your arse up and go take care of it!” she said rather harshly. The tone sounded familar, though I could not place it. I could not recall my roommate ever using it before, but it sounded familar, and suited her general personality.

“I can’t!” I cried back. “I…sniff…I…sniff…told my mom already.”

“And you’re supposed to be the smart one,” she mumbled, turning towards her desk. “I take it she’s on her way?” I just nodded. “Well you should go get cleaned up. Maybe a shower will help you think straight.”

A shower did sound like a good idea. I had woke up late this morning and hadn’t gotten a chance to shower before Stacey stopped by to run to the store. Maybe a shower would help. It couldn’t hurt.

“Com’ on go,” she pushed my feet off the end of the futon. I slowly got up and grabbed my robe, shower caddy and keys then went off to the floor’s bathroom. It was late in the afternoon, and about a half an hour before dinner so the bathroom was empty. I was glad it was empty, since I didn’t really want to talk to anyone at the moment and My eyes had to be extra red and puffy from crying.

I choose a center shower stall and turned on the hot water. I slowly went through the motions of shedding my clothes and handing them on the hook in the changing space. The hot water felt good, even if it didn’t pull the stress away like I hoped. I leaned my right arm aganist the shower wall and buried my eyes in my elbow.

The hundreds of questions came flooding back. How could this happen to me? What was I going to do? Could I do it? Should I do it? The questions were never ending, like the water pelting my back.

Screeech! The shower curtain flung open, revealing my mom standing there in sweatshirt and blue jeans. As would be expected, by first reaction was short, but earsplitting scream, which I am sure did not help her attitude.

“Get out here now!” Mom growled, taking my wrist and pulling me from the shower stall before I could protest.

“MOM!” I cried out, as a mom performed a nice tango twirl with me then sat down on the little bench all in one fluid motion. It would have been impressive, had I been dressed, or someone else was her dance partner. Neither was true and I ended up staring at the tile floor, sprawled across her demin covered knees.

“What the hell were you thinking! You weren’t thinking, were you!” Mom started lecturing. I could think of only one thing, and immedately reached my hands for the floor. My awkward angle allowed my palms just to contact the tile. I pushed off with my fingers when a firm hand pushed my shoulders forward and down.

“Stay there if you know what’s good for you.” Mom commanded.

“Please! MOM!” I knew what was coming and I would have done anything to prevent it from happening right now. “Not here! Please, not here! My room, home, PLEASE!”

Mom simply answered with a resounding crack of my hairbrush. The intensity of the sting of that first spank shocked me. It was like she took a minute worth of spanks and delieved it in one super swat.

The initial shock wore off very quickly as the second swat landed on my other cheek. It’s sting somehow outdid the first swat’s. I immediately let out a cry and tried to reach back with my right hand. Mom answered my cry with another swat, and then another and another and another. Each swat caused a slight break in my continuous wail.

“HAAA!” SWAT! “AHHH!” SWAT! “AHHH!” SWAT! “AHHH!”

All the emotional pain I had experience earlier was nothing compared to the sting my mom imparted upon my bottom. It was absolute horrible and I tried everything possible to stop it. Kicking, squirming, wiggling, reaching back, nothing could stop that evil hairbrush as it did its job.

Every swat drew out a little more of the fight in me until there was nothing left. All I could do was lay there crying and react to the energy of each new blow. I don’t know how many more I got after the fight was gone, but I doubt it was very many because the next thing I realized was standing before her.

Every nerve in my bottom was telling me to try and rub away the sting while my brain commanded my hands not to go it. Rubbing my bottom without mom’s permission might mean another trip over her knee. I instead tried to keep my hands busy by wipping the tears from my eyes and the snot from my nose.

“Put that robe on and lets get you packed. We are going home,” Mom instructed as she stood up.

I put on my robe and then grabbed my clothes. I turned around and took half a step towards the center of the bathroom and froze. Almost every girl on my floor was standing there, looking at me. “Oh My God! They saw everything!” I thought and immediately ran to my room.

Three Ghosts of Halloween, Part IV

This is the fourth, and final part, of the Three Ghosts of Halloween story. It begins with Part I and continues with Part II and Part III.

It took me forever to find Brittany. The people in the living room said she was in the kitchen while the people in kitchen said she was in the living. Finally someone mentioned she had went down to the basement to get some more wine. It taken 15 minutes of searching before I finally found her a storage room in the basement.

“Hey, Bethany’s being attacked by Jake!” I exclaimed.

“What?” Brittany was clearly shocked by my statement. “Attacked?” She probably had more to drink than me, so logic wasn’t her strong suit at the moment.

“Come on, I’ll show you!” I took her hand, and led her upstairs to the master bathroom. During the winding trip upstairs, I started questioning why I had searched for Brittany over Rick or Adam. Either man would have been able to put an instant stop to Jake’s actions. They had meet when playing football in college as walk-on linebackers and neither had lost much of their physics since college.

When we got to the master bedroom, I went straight for the bathroom door, while Brittany held back slightly. Throwing open the door exposed the completely empty bathroom. By this point I figured Jake would have fled, but Bethany also?

“She was right here!” I swear. “And Jake was beating her like some child.”

“Ah, are you sure?” She questioned. The bathroom was obviously empty.

“He was, I swear! She was over his lap with her panties pulled down and was slapping her bottom!”

Brittany blinked slowly as if what I said had relaxed her in some way. “Why don’t you sit down so we can talk.”

“We need to find her, make sure she’s safe!” Why didn’t she want to search for her sister?

“Please, sit. I know what is going on.” Brittany took a seat on the end of her bed and gently patted the spot next to her.

Something wasn’t right. Why was she so calm? Didn’t she worry for Bethany’s safety?

“Please,” she repeated.

I reluctantly obeyed, perching tentatively on the edge of the bed.

“Have you and Adam ever had a disagreement that simmered for days? The conflict slowly eating away at you until you finally burst into a full blown fight?”

“No…” I lied. What do Adam and my martial issues have to do with Bethany? I currently was a little annoyed with Adam for forgetting to get tickets to last weekend’s symphony concert, but that didn’t matter right now.

“Are you sure?” She asked again. “Because my students can lie better than you.”

“Maybe,” I relented, waving my hand off dismissively.

“Doesn’t the emotional strain draw every bit of energy from you?”

“Yea, but arguing is kind of fun, and the makeup sex is so worth it. So what?”

“The sex is so good because you no longer have this great burden weighting you down, preventing you from feeling life.” She licked her lips as I could tell she was contemplating her next words carefully. “Some people…. Some of us have been wise enough to embrace clear, crisp solutions to martial conflicts. Going over our man’s lap and being spanked happens to be a more prevalent and successful solution.”

I think my jaw hit the ground at that moment. “You’re kidding me,” I shook my head dismissively. Spanking conflicted with everything I had been taught growing up. Men are supposed to respect women, not beat them.

“I’m not kidding. It may seem like a juvenile punishment, but between a husband and wife it is much more complex. More intimate.” Brittany explained.

“Bethany gets off on it? Like a fetish?” I asked. Fetishes were something I never really understood. I didn’t really like anything strange in the bedroom department. Just straight making out and intercourse.

“I sincerely doubt she receives any sexual pleasure during a punishment spanking. It is also not a fetish in the way feet or latex. Like I said it is more complex. You are offering yourself up to be disciplined. After which all your sins are washed away and you feel pure, innocent again.”

I cocked my head to the side trying to comprehend what she was saying.

“Remember before Adam, when you broke up with your last boyfriend who broke up with you?”

“Nope, I always dumped them.” She raised her eyebrow questioning my truthfulness again. “Ok, fine. I remember.”

“Right afterwards you were a mix of emotions; anger, sadness, confusion, etc? Then the first thing you did when you got home was cry your eyes out over a pint, or two, of Hagen Dais?”

“Yea. Rocky road was break-up go to.”

“Cookies and Cream here. Once the tears were all gone, that fog of emotions had parted and you could barely remember why you even liked the guy?”

“Yea.” Where was she going with this?

“Getting spanked is a conduit for that emotional release. You are forced to cry all those pent-up emotions out through your tears until the real you is left. The you that loves your husband with every ounce of your being.”

“Hmm. but it”

“You are offering yourself to be disciplined. Abuse is non-consensual. There is nothing abusive when you are consenting to it.”

“But…but…” I was reaching for some objectionable point, but she had already dismissed all of them.

“But you really won’t understand until you try it.”

I still wasn’t buying what ever she was selling.

“Oh, and the sex in the afterglow of a spanking is like ten times better than makeup sex.”

Now it was my turn to question her truthfulness.

“The spanking focuses your brain, and blood, on your hips area, making all your girly parts become ultra sensitive so the briefest contact.”

She paused for a long moment, offering me a chance to object, but I couldn’t think of any legitimate reason.

“I’ll think about it.” I conceded. The concept was intriguing, but still didn’t feel right. How could a modern woman like myself ALLOW a man to spank me.

“Good. And don’t worry about Bethany. I’m sure she’s fine.” Brittany stood up and started for the bedroom door. “Come on, it’s a party. Lets have some fun.”

I wasn’t in the party mood, but followed her downstairs nonetheless. I figured I should find Adam. I got to the top of the stairs when I realized I had never completed my original mission. I did a little pivot at the top of the stairs and returned to the master bathroom.

Sitting on the toilet, all I could think of was Bethany laying over Jake’s knee and that bathbrush crashing into her bottom. Her bare bottom had been a mere four feet in front of my current position. The brush, still sitting on edge of the tub, sweeping down in a mighty arc. Her yelp of pain. Her plea of acceptance. I could swear I her say “Gloria, it is OK.”

A cold breeze traveled down my spine, wrapping around to tickle my most intimate parts. The responding shiver shook my entire body off the toilet.

My heart raced. Adrenaline surged through my veins. Everywhere I looked, the bathroom was empty. But someone had just spoke to me and something had just touched me.

Shucking up my panties, I waddled as fast as possible out of the bathroom, even skipping my normal hygiene routine. I was not sure what was going on, but I did not want to be in that bathroom any more.

A sound from the bathroom caused me to glance back as I flung open the bedroom door. The sound echoed again, this time more clearly audible.
It was the sound of wood rapping on soft, smooth flesh. The sound I heard earlier and it was following me,

I rushed through the doorway, still looking over my shoulder, straight into a younger girl.

“Careful!” the girl chided.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, holding my hands up slightly, as if I was warding off an attack from her. The petite girl was dressed up like a NFL football player, complete with the black eye hashes. Underneath the costume, she looked eerily familiar. “Wait, aren’t you girl that was on tv today? The one involved in that homecoming party?”

“Yea, my FATHER was sharing all the gory details on tv.” she said, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

“Sorry.”

“It is ok, but you should be more careful in the future, otherwise you might end up the same situation as my friends and I.”

“Hu?” I asked.

“Learning a lesson the hard way. We can all learn lessons, even as we get older. Sometimes they hurt a bunch right now and are over with, while others drag on for days or more. Honestly, I prefer the quick sharp ones.” She shrugged her shoulders, then turned to go in the direction of the upstairs bathroom.

I took one step down the stairs when I realized the news report involved a town 15 miles away. Why would that girl be here, especially if she was in that much trouble?

Pausing, I leaned back around the corner looking down the hallway towards the guest bathroom. A man was leaving the bathroom while an older women entered. The girl was gone. It was as if she had vanished. Now were my eyes playing tricks on me too? Or was it something else?

She couldn’t have just vanished. It had to be a trick. Then everything clicked. The girl the news cast, the bathroom episode, Brittany’s lame excuse about Bethany consenting to being spanked. They were all in on it and trying to prank me. Well I would show them!

I continued downstairs, back into the core of the party. Everyone else were drinking, dancing and having a generally good time. Music filled the voids between the costume bodies.

Dancing though was the farthest thing from my mind at the moment. I was determined to figure out what was going on before they completed the prank. Then I could through a monkey wrench and screw everything up. Adam just better not be involved. He knows how much I hate pranks.

None of the obvious culprits seemed to be on the main floor, so they had to be hiding in the basement.

I contemplated playing dumb as I walked down the steep steps into he basement recreation room. I’d play dumb and see what information they leaked. “Yea,” I mumbled to myself, pausing to let a young woman dressed as Little Bo Peep pass. In my contemplations I only had a brief glance at the woman’s face, but a glance was my mind needed to careen down a new path. She was familiar, but I couldn’t place her name. It took a second and I realized she was the young woman from the Halloween store. If she was here, she was probably part of the prank also.

“Hey,” I called out turning to catch her. She stopped just short of the door, a good six feet higher than my current step. My eyes naturally raised up her legs, towards her head, but stopped dead at her bottom.

The costume was a standard over-sexualized version of the storybook character, complete with a low cut blouse on the top and extra short skirt on the bottom. The flare of her petticoats, and my low vantage point, provided me a sight straight up the back of her dress, to the underlying white nylon panties. Her panties do not hold my attention like the two crimson globes sticking out of the undergarment.

Ms. Bo Peep turned around and blushed, instantly recognizing me. “Oh, hi.”

Now that I had stopped her I had no idea where to take the conversation. I wanted information about what ever prank they were pulling, but I couldn’t just come out and ask about it, so I went for the next best thing. “You were in the Halloween store this morning,” I accused while climbing a up towards her.

“Yea,” she mumbled, twisting her patent leather clad right foot in the carpeting. “You saw, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. Who was that woman with you? Your mother?”

“Yea..” she mumbled, still avoiding eye contact.

“I just can’t believe she would spank you at your age, or that you would allow it!”

“Well, I did deserve it,” she admitted, looking up, towards my face.

“What? Your a grown woman. You don’t deserve to be spanked like a kid.”

“Sometimes I do. I don’t like it but its ok.”

“It’s OK? Your as bad as the rest of them. Retrying to convince me spanking an adult is fine.”

“Who are you talking about?” she asked with biggest fake puzzled look I had ever seen.

“You know, Brittany, Bethany, Jake, all of them. Brittany told me everything earlier. She said..”

“Bethany is spanked too!” She cut me off, covering her mouth in shock. This time it looked considerably more real than the last expression. “Wow, I didn’t know,” she said behind her hand.

“You didn’t know?”

“No….” she said.

“Then you aren’t in on the prank?”

“What prank?”

“Oh…” Now I was thoroughly confused. If she wasn’t in on the prank, why would she show me her spanked bottom, twice? “Then why were you half-naked in the dressing room?”

“Ah…because mom had just spanked me for wanting that silly leopard costume. I had been a brat towards her all morning and the fit I threw about the costume was the last straw. Sometimes it’s the only way I listen to reason. It really wasn’t that bad, more embarrassing because you heard me get it than painful.”

“But your bottom, it’s still an angry red.”

“Oh, yea…” She started blushing deeply again. “That was for this month’s credit card bill.”

I stared at her, waiting for more details.

“I’m still in college, Bethany and I are actually in the same Master’s program, so I live with my parents and they help financially while I finish my schooling. When Dad found out I maxed out my credit card eating out, he hit the roof. And his belt on my bottom.”

This time I covered my mouth in shock. “Ouch!” I mumbled.

“Yea, ouch big time. But it’s better than destroying the good relationship I have with my parents.”

“I guess. But then why are you here?” The obvious question to anyone recently punished.

“Bethany had asked me to help her with the catering, so it was fine with my parents. Normally I’d be grounded for rest of the day, but work takes precedent to punishments.” she smiled halfheartedly.

“Catering! That’s why the other girl was here!” I said realizing why the girl from TV would be at the party also. She must work for Bethany’s little catering business. “Well thank you for the information, and sorry about being spanked. I promise I won’t tell anyone, but I need to go find my husband.”

“Thanks,” she said, eager to leave our conversation.

Everything was starting to make sense. Brittany was using Bethany’s employees to trick me into getting spanked. I bet the next phase of their plan was to occur in the basement. Probably some trap to get me ‘into trouble’ and provide a reason. Well I’ll show them. They can’t spring their trap if I’m not here. I’ll grab Adam and we’ll head home. I’ll probably have to promise sex though. Ah, so what, it was worth avoiding the humiliation.

Just like Bo-Peep had said, half a dozen guys were standing around the pool table, drinking beers. Adam saw me as soon as I entered the room and with a wag of the finger, he came straight over to me.

“Honey, come on, I want to go home!” I made my best big puppy-dog eyes at him. They normally worked when I wanted something.

“Hu? why, it’s early.” Adam turned to look at the guys, who were making some kind of ruckus.

“Please?”

“Ah, honey,” He tossed back the last of his beer. “In a little bit.”

“But I want to go NOW!,” I whined.

“Well, once I finish this game. Rick and I are tied two-games a piece with Jake and Greg. We only got one more ball to win.”

“Jake?”

“Yea, Bethany’s fiance. The guy there in the batman costume. The four of us have been down here playing since we arrived.”

“The whole time?” I asked. Had they really lured Adam into their plot?

“Yea, why?” Adam asked, clearly confused. He was horrible at lying to me, and tonight, being well plied with alcohol was no exception.

“Hey, Adam, it’s your shot!” Rick called out before I could come up with some answer.

“Don’t worry, it’ll just take me a minute to win and then we can go.” Adam kissed me on the forehead and returned to the pool table.

Was this the trap? What was going to happen? I fidgeted the whole minute and a half it took Adam to sink the winning shot. They were here somewhere and I wanted to escape before whatever happened.

We just about made it out the door when we ran into Brittany and Bethany coming down from upstairs.

“You guys leaving?” Brittany asked.

“Yea, we are heading out.” Adam said, as nonchalantly as he could.

“Well I hope you liked the party.”

“It was a great party.” Adam complemented. “You out do yourselves every year.”

“Yea, great party,” I told Brittany, then added for Bethany, “You did a great job catering. Your employees were also really nice.” I leaned close to whisper, “And I won’t say anything about what I saw earlier.”

“Say anything? Employees? What are you talking about?” Bethany responded.

“You know, the football player and Bo-Peep?”

“Who? All my staff are at different parties. I’m here by myself tonight.”

“Oh, I must’ve been mistaken.”

We said our goodbyes and were off into the cool night air. The way Adam walked, something seemed to be bothering him.

“Why was it so important we leave early?” Adam asked

“Oh nothing,” I mumbled. “I just wanted to go.”

“It was quite rude though,” Adam let his annoyance with me come through in his tone.

“Sorry,” I apologized. He was right. He was always right when it came to us. It was one of those things I loved to hate about him. He always thought first, and acted second. Every argument we ever had as a couple was my stubbornness versus his, his, his correctness?

Nothing else was said until we safely home and in our bedroom. The whole walk my emotions were eating me up inside. How I had been a complete bitch to him ever since he mentioned the Halloween party 2 weeks ago. The complaining about the costume, and then getting us to leave early. His favorite holiday, and I had completely ruined it.

I’m such a bad wife.

Five words that went around and around in my head as I climbed the steps to our bedroom. Each word stabbing itself into my heart, the exorcise the pound of flesh it was rightfully owed. Twenty three steps and five words were all it took to make me feel worst than I had ever felt in my life.

I had to get rid of the pain, and now. But how?

One answer instantly filled my mind, barring everything else. It was extreme, but it would work. Wouldn’t it?

“Can we talk?” I ask Adam hesitantly once we were in the bedroom.

“What’s wrong now?” Adam sighed as he tossed his cape, wig and beard onto my makeup stand chair. He had already ditched the hat to the same chair, leaving him just dressed in the long white robe.

“Sit down please,” I asked, gesturing towards the bed. I bit my lower lip as he followed my instructions, sitting on the edge of the bed directly in front of me. Should I really do this? Could I do it?

“Yes?” he asked. I felt so small and he looked so large and regal in that flowing white robe. Wise and all knowing, like a King or a Bishop. Oddly, that put me slightly at ease.

I blinked once and just let my emotions flow. “I had a long talk with Brittany and Bethany tonight and I want to apologize for my bitchiness over the last week.” I looked at his lap the whole time. Maybe Bethany didn’t get spanked tonight, but the discussion with Brittany surely happened.

“Week?” Adam asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Fine, the past month,” I mumbled. “They. hmmmmm, they enlightened me to a better way for us to deal with our disagreements, and hmmm, and I think we should start using their model.”

“Ah OK.”

I couldn’t think of anyway to say what I wanted to say. It was like my entire vocabulary had been reduced to that of a kindergartener. “I need spanking” was all I could think of but it sounded so wrong, and childish.

“Honey?” Adam asked.

“I, hmmm, I, hmmmm.” Still unable to articulate my thoughts, I simply went for the action route. Actions are supposed to speak volumes.

I took a half a step to my left, then turned and laid myself over Adam’s outstretched knees. At that moment I realized how awkward and uncomfortable it is to lay over someone’s lap. I kept teetering between having my hands, or my feet flat on the floor, never both.

“Ah,” I could hear him stuttered. What was he waiting for? Isn’t he just supposed to start swatting my bottom?

“Aren’t you going to spank me?” I asked quietly. Hadn’t Rick ever told him about he and Brittany?

“What?” Adam asked.

“You can spank me,” I said again, this time a bit louder.

“What do you mean, spank you?”

“Like Rick does to Brittany or Jake to Bethany.” Doesn’t he know how embarrassing this is for me.

“What are you talking about?”

Did he really not know? How could he not know? Rick and him are best friend. “Rick spanks Brittany when she is naughty, like I have been towards you.” I could hear him gasp at that revelation. He really didn’t know about their arrangement.

I started to push myself up, off his lap when a hand gently pushed my shoulders back down.

“Hold on there a moment. Help me understand this, Brittany is spanked when she is naughty and now you are jealous?”

“No, I’m not jealous. I…I just want us to be happier, like them.”

“And you think spanking is the key to happiness?”

“No,” I immediately responded, though it felt awful wrong to lie at this moment. “Well….partially. Maybe it is what we are missing.”

“OK, then we will put this to rest right now.” I wish I would have caught the annoyance in his voice, but my stubbornness had become focused on achieving the goal of a spanking. I know, a crazy goal, but can be stubborn to a fault.

The first swat didn’t seem too bad. A light tingling sensation, really. The next few slowly increased to a slight sting, but were far from unbearable.

Maybe it was my lack of response, or Adam was starting to get into it, but the spanks became harder and harder until a strong one surprised a yelp out of me.

Adam paused for a moment, most likely to see if I would complain. I wanted to say it was too hard, but for some reason the harder spank had felt better than the tentative ones. More emotionally freeing than those gentle pats.

The spanks began to rain down again, this time with my unspoken consent, Adam was putting some force behind his hand. Force that I am sure he knew I was feeling. Each spank imparted a crisp sting to my skin, cause me to yelp with most every one.

Soon, I could feel the fire he was building on my bottom. Individual stingy spanks had blended together into a constant fire, much like how my yelps blended into a low continuous sob.

All the emotions I felt over the past day, week, month came flooding back. The snarky comments. The thoughtless actions. The blatant bitchiness. Everything was there, and everything was getting burnt away by the fire Adam was creating. I could have swore my cries of distress where just fueling Adam’s arm, fore every swat seemed stronger, and harder, yet more freeing than the previous.

I plead for forgiveness and the swats kept coming. I promised to be good, and the fire kept building. I begged him to stop, and the flow of tears increased.

At some point all the negative emotions that had been building inside me had flowed out through my tears along with all the energy I had to resist that spanking. And then it was over.

Adam eased me up and wrapped me in his arms while I buried my face into his chest. He felt so warm, not like the hot sun that my bottom currently feels, but like a cozy cabin on a cold winter day. Everything beyond his embrace is just an icy abyss. Within, was his caring, his thoughtfulness, his compassion, all that makes up his love for me. It was so warm and peaceful. Everything was alright.

I do not remember falling asleep, just waking up the next day, still holding my man, though carefully tucked below our covers. The room felt oddly cool at moment, but Adam was nice and warm. I never wanted to let him go. He was mine, and I would be his, forever and ever.

It was nearly noon before we made it out of the bedroom. It felt a little late for breakfast, but we were both hungry. I went for a yogurt cup while Adam went straight for the remaining pumpkin pie. Normally I would chide him for such an unhealthy choice, but this morning it seemed petty of me.

The expression Adam made after his first bite was priceless. It was some crazy mixture of him eating a lemon and bitters. I couldn’t help but laugh at the clearly unpleasant taste.

“Ewe. What did you put in this?”

“Just the normal stuff, pumpkin, spice, cinnamon, condensed milk, nutmeg, eggs.”

“Did you forget the sugar?”

“Hhmmm…” Shit I forgot the sugar. Flipping the yogurt covered spoon over in my mouth, I slowly licked it cleaned while I thought of a response. My normally sharp wit fled my mind like it was on fire. “Nooo, but….”

“But you weren’t thinking or you intentionally sabotaged the pies?” Adam paused for a moment. “Either way, we should deal with this naughtiness right away. The wooden spoon seems appropriate.”

Wooden Spoon!? Where did he get that idea from? I never said anything about a wooden spoon.

Three Ghosts of Halloween

This is the first of a four part Halloween series which will be published between now and October 30th.

Buzzz Buzzz Buzzz my phone vibrated across the headboard. Shut up! I thought as I whacked it with a pillow. It was my day off so wanted to sleep in goddammit, not get up early and do shit.

I relaxed my shoulders, down through my chest and just started to return to dreamland when my phone started vibrating again. “Grrr…” I growled as I felt around above my head. This better be important, like someone dying or something. I opened my eyes just enough to let the light flood in, and see the screen.

“I love you,” read the top text from Adam. “Ill be home at 6, be ready” followed below. He woke me for that? I nearly threw the phone across the room but the bright light cascading around the drapes convinced me I probably should get up.

I dropped my phone on the bed to stretch the sleep out of my legs and arms. With a yawn I padded off to the bathroom. My return to the bedroom, the blinking red light on my Blackberry indicated another new message. This was too much, especially before I had my morning coffee. Still, out of habit I flicked to my messages on the way to the kitchen to find another text from my husband, “Don’t forget to get your costume or make the pumpkin pie”

Grrrr. I hate Halloween. I don’t know why adults love such a childish holiday, and Adam is probably the worst of them all. Luckily we were only going to one costume party this year, thought it was tonight. He’ll probably make me dress back up for tomorrow evening while we hand out candy.

I paused at the kitchen doorway to text back, “I WONT!” Now, coffee time.

After two cups of coffee, a yogurt and nice hot shower, I figured I should run over to the temporary Halloween shop and grocery store before lunch.

The shop was actually two empty store fronts with part of the adjoining wall knocked down. The left side contained the home decor and men’s costumes while the right side contained the cash registers, women’s and kids costumes. The current state of the store reminded me of toy store the afternoon of Black Friday, or a small town after a tornado. Empty boxes were thrown everywhere. Most of the clothes racks contained empty hangers and random parts of various costumes.

It took me ten minutes to find three complete costumes in anything close to my size; “A Sexy Kitty”, “A Sexy Nurse” and “A Wicked Witch.” The name sexy was just a pseudonym for slutty or scandalous, as in this situation. The nurse costume was basically a ultra short lab coat with a white garter and stockings and a plastic syringe. The kitty was not any better, resembling a leopard print leotard with a pair of matching fur ears and tail. Either would make me feel more like a cheap streetwalker than “sexy.” The witch’s costume was considerably less scandalous, though not something I would wear in public on any day other than Halloween. A short-sleeve black dress with a reasonable amount of cleavage was paired with black pointy hate and a fake mole.

The only problem with the witch’s costume was the package said the dress was a 2, and I am much more of a 4-6 type woman. You know, someone who actually eats, but cares about their figure. Maybe it would fit, but I should try it on before buying it. I would hate having to come pack to this place again.

The only clerk in the store pointed towards the back hallway when I asked about a changing room. She seemed more interested in her iPhone than me, and I didn’t blame her. She had a horrible job.

The hallway leading to the women’s dressing rooms was of the warehouse storage area than a finished hallway. Empty boxes were stacked haphazardly in piles against the walls. It was almost like a cardboard maze to find the dressing room area. Turning the corner I came across two quickly constructed dressing doors. Simple black painted plywood and 2x4s created the walls while plain wooden interior doors formed the doors. Luckily, one of the doors was open, so I wouldn’t have to wait.

I quickly latched the lock behind me and checked to make sure it worked. A little rattling and the door didn’t move. I started removing my top when I heard a women’s voice coming from the other dressing room. “You aren’t going out in that! It’s way too revealing!” I thought I heard over the haunted house music. The music seemed extra loud back here.

“MOM!” a distinctly younger female voice responded, followed by a bunch of stuff I couldn’t’ make out. It seems some girl didn’t like the costume her mother picked out. Well, I don’t really like mine either, learn to deal with it.

I was slipping off my jeans when I heard more noise coming from next door. This time it sounded more like water falling from a leaky faucet than voices. I glanced around the ceiling above the makeshift dressing room to see if I could see a water. Nothing, but the pitter-patter sound continued, getting a little quicker if anything.

I finished removing my jeans and slipped the witch’s dress over my head when I heard voices again coming from next door. This time, it sounded like the girl kept saying yes, roughly in time with the water drops. It was probably my imagination, or some additive chanting to the haunted house sound track.

The dress fit well enough, though it was a little tight and the skirt portion was definitely on the skimpy side. I bet I’d flash my panties if I bent over. Well there wasn’t much I could do about it, since the alternatives were definitely not any more conservatives. Why do they have to make all the women’s costumes so revealing. Even a nun’s typical costume would have been more appropriate in a sex store than a Halloween stop.

I returned the dress to it’s bag and got redressed. I was just starting to open the dressing room door when a young women came scampering out of the other dressing room, taking a kitty costume over to the rack by the door.

She had almost returned to the other dressing room when an older female voice stopped her in her tracks. “Go back and put it properly on the rack young lady!” I hadn’t paid the girl any notice until the mother reprimanded her. At that point I took a good look at her.

“Yes, mom!” The girl said sullenly, noticing me as she turned back towards the rack. Woman would have been a more appropriate term, since she looked to be in her late teens to early twenties. More likely early twenties since it was eleven o’clock in the morning on a Friday when teenagers were normally in school.

She started to blushing when she noticed me. I would have guessed it was from her lack of clothes, being that she only had on a simple nude bra and white nylon panties. The panties caught my attention when she bent over to pick up the discarded costume. Her bottom was a deep red hue, contrasting considerably to her white panties and thighs. Had she just been spanked I asked myself as I left the dressing room area. The watery look in her eyes seemed to reinforce that idea.

The sight in the dressing room haunted me the whole way to the grocery store. It was just on the other side of the shopping center, but still. Why would a mother still spank her adult daughter? Why did the daughter allow it? Did she like it or something? Who in hell would like a spanking? Was it just some sick prank they were pulling on me? All these questions and many more ran through my mind. No matter what the answers, it was wrong to spank anyone, especially an adult child. Someone should bend that old hag over and see how she likes it when she gets her ass beat.

Ding Ding Dong Ding Dang! The ringtone told me Adam was calling even before I fished the phone out of my purse.

“What do you want!” I snapped into the phone.

“I just wanted to see how your day was going and if you got your costume?” Adam responded with a overtly soft voice.

“Yes I got the dumb costume. A witch OK with you?”

“That seems oddly appropriate,” he said.

“Whatever,” mumbled as I rolled my eyes. “Is there anything we need at the grocery store?”

“No, just the stuff to make pumpkin pie.”

Of course we do, that is why I went to the grocery store. “Duh…I meant anything else, like food stuff.”

“You don’t have to be uppity.”

“Uppity? Really? Do you need anything else?”

“Ah, I guess not. Try to have a better day honey, I can’t wait to see you in your costume,” he voice dripping with insincere niceness.

“You bet,” I mumbled to myself before saying “Goodbye” and hanging up the call. He could be such a jerk sometimes. Now where are the baking goods?

Willow Groove – Freshmen Orientation

Freshman Orientation, the first taste of freedom to millions of new college students each year. Myra University held its orientation during the last week of July and the first week of August. New students came to the campus and stayed three nights in the dorms while they meet the other freshmen, figured out their class schedules, learned the University’s rules and traditions, played community building games, and generally had a good time. Ninety percent of the students came from Willow Groove, which meant Amber felt a like an outsider for most of the first day.

——–

The day began with a tour of the campus. Just about every building was styled in Collegiate Gothic, giving Amber the feeling of the whole University being pluck right out of England and deposited here. Creepy and romantic all at the same time. The campus was layed out in overlapping squares, with the main quad in the center circled by the primary academic buildings. The administration building stood at the north end with the science buildings running down the left side and the arts and humanities buildings on the right side. At the south end stood the student union, called the “Wingate Club”. On the outer loop of the campus stood all of the student and faculty housing. All unmarried students were required to live on campus while enrolled. Also, all faculty at or below the Assistant Professor level recieved a one-bedroom apartment in the faculty housing free of charge.

Upon first hearing about the requirement to live on campus all four years, Amber was slightly disappointed. She intended in living in the dorms as a freshman, but also intend on getting an apartment during her sophomore or junior year. Her attitude quickly changed when the orientation mentor explained student housing composes the dorms, 2 apartment buildings (one reserved strictly for graduate students) and twelve sorority and fraternity houses. The mentor went on to explain that ninety percent of students joined a sorority or fraternity by the time they became a junior and most of them required members to live in their house. Freshmen could apply, and if accepted, their housing would be moved to the house prior to the start of classes. Amber never had really thought about joining a sorority, but if 90% of the students joined one, should she at least check them out.

The tour wandered through the science buildings with the mentor identifying all of the important rooms to freshmen, like the Gen Chem lecture hall. The group was just about the leave the chemistry building when one of the girls asked about a showcase fully of trophy’s and delta pi sigma in big capital Greek letters on the back wall.

“Oh, that is the building’s sponsor showcase. Each sorority and fraternity on campus sponsors one of the academic buildings. Delta Pi Sigma sponsors this building, so all of the trophy’s they have won over the previous years stay here,” the mentor said. Amber really wished she could remember the mentor’s name. She remember she is starting her junior year and is a molecular biology major, but couldn’t remember her name.

“What does sponsoring involve?” the same girl asked.

“The building’s sponsor is responsible for making the building be a shinning example of the University. Formally, the students put on the alumni open house each spring and the senior students will attend fundraising and professional networking events held by the building’s department. Some of the houses make pledges clean their sponsor buildings while others hold initiation in the buildings. It kinda depends on the house and the building’s department. Any ways, we need to get moving along. There is lots more of the campus to see before lunch.”

The tour wandered through the rest of the buildings on the quad while the guide pointed out important parts and occasionally adding bits of trivia. Myra University is not very large, allowing the tour to walk through the general student areas of every building before returning to the Wingate Club for lunch.

The guide stopped the group before the cafeteria, “That concludes today’s tour. This afternoon you will schedule your classes. Please go to the academic building where your major is located. There will be signs to tell you which room you will need to go to. Most of you go to the department’s office, but a few larger majors do registration in other rooms. Late this afternoon on the quad, you will find the student activities fair, where many of the different RSOs will have booths and games setup. You ladies, I’ll be at the Sigma Epsilon Xi booth. Also, if you look at the back of your information back you will find my contact info. Feel free to email me, but I’ll also see everyone tomorrow morning! Any questions?” Everyone just shook their heads as they fumbled with their information folders. “Good! Now lets get some lunch!” she said as she turned and led the way into the cafeteria.

Amber did not follow the group, instead glanced around to find a restroom. The left side of the main lobby contained the glass display windows of the bookshop while the right side contained display windows of various university sports and academic teams with the entrance to the student government offices in the center. Without any signs, Amber guessed there must be restrooms upstairs. She weaved her way through the flow of traffic to make it to the right twin of the marble stairs. The quick tapping of her heels was drowned out by the general commotion, though became distinct as she made her way down the hall on the second floor. She found different student services offices lining the first section of the hallway.

The clicking became more apparent as she followed the hallway to the right. She slowed her pace to preserve the tranquility of the hardwood lined hallway. The dark oak paneling was nicely accented by cove lights running the entire length. Amber was enjoying the beauty before her when she heard noises coming from a closed door ahead of her. A older women’s voice became barely audible as she heard the solid oak door. Amber figured she must have been yelling to be heard through such a heavy door.

Amber reached the doorway and the women stopped. The crisp pop startled Amber, causing her to stop half a step beyond the door. She couldn’t place it, but is sounded like a muffled firecracker. Pop. There she heard it again, then again and again. The last of which was followed by a high pitched noise. Amber went through everything she could think of that would be causing such an odd noise at the university as the popping sound and high pitch response continued every 20 seconds or so. She glanced up and down the hallway before leaning closer to the door. The popping sound became louder but the response was sitting unintelligible.

Amber was just about to place her ear to the door when the clicking sounds of heels on hardwood echoed from the lobby direction. She quickly became alert and glanced around for an exit. The ladies room was on the other side of the hall, a few yards down the hallway. Her heart began to race as she made it quickly, but quietly to the restroom. She eased the door shut before slipping into a stall and taking a deep breath.

Safe! Why was she running? She was snooping, but no one would know if she just continued normally down the hall. No matter, she was here at her original destination, she thought to her self. A button, a zipper and a paper toilet seat cover then she was ready to take care of business and get back to lunch. The pee though would not come. She tried again to release the muscles down below, but nothing would come out.

She was getting ready to give up when the door opened and in came a crying girl. The sobbing echoed lightly off the walls as the girl rounded the privacy corner. Amber leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the redhead coed as she made her way to the handicap stall. Amber waited until she heard the click of the latch before leaving her own stall, wash her hands and return to the cafeteria.

Amber could only think of the peculiarity of the whole set of events. Was the girl the same one being yelled at in the office? What was the popping sound? Why was she crying? Maybe she’d failed a class or something and was being placed on probation or something. Amber did not know it at the time, but the redhead had failed a class and was placed on probation plus something else.