All Wet
Copyright (c) 2002 by Don A. Landhill
(All rights reserved. Do not reproduce this story without permission 
from the author)
------------------------------

It was raining in Los Angeles. Pouring, actually. It was a sudden 
cloudburst, and she hadn't expected it, nor listened to the forecast. She 
came out of the staff meeting and saw the rain hammering against the 
sealed glass.  Briefly she just looked out at the rain, then she was off, 
heading for the lot at top speed. 

It was already too late - the inside of the car was drenched. She closed 
the windows and the sunroof anyway, hoping that it would dry out, no 
harm would be done. She hurried back to work.

At six-thirty, the inside of the car was still very wet, and quite musty.  
She drove home, then wiped everything off and sprayed freshener, 
hoping that everything would still be all right. 

He got home at seven-thirty. "Corey, did you drive the car today?" 

"No, Scott, you grounded me from the car for a week, remember?"

"I remember, but I wondered if you did.  If you didn't use it, I wonder 
how it got so musty, and how the library book on the back seat became 
a mass of curled pages? While all the doors and windows were shut, 
and the car was in the garage?"

"Uh. Scott."

"The truth, Corey, right away. Don't get yourself in any deeper, 
Missy."

"Well, Scott, I was running late, and you know how poor the bus 
service is here. I'd missed the 8:15,and I would never have been on 
time for my meeting, so I, well, drove.  And then the rain caught me 
with the windows open. But I came straight home, and cleaned up 
everything as a well as I could. I didn't use the car for anything but 
going to work, honest I didn't, and-"

His face got more and more stern as she babbled. When he spoke, he 
was cold and terse.  "Corner. Now. Bottom bare. Hands on head, 
mouth shut."

"But Scott, please-"

"Now!" {Smack}

She ran. A half-hour later, he hauled her out by the ear, and bent her 
over the pillow on the footboard of the bed. {Swish-Crack!} His belt 
landed on her bare bottom, over and over. While he strapped her, he 
scolded her: for breaking her grounding, for being careless with the 
rain, and above all, for lying to him. Lying, to him, was the worst of 
all, and she knew it.

Finally he stopped.  "All right. No car for TWO weeks, starting 
tomorrow.  No visitors or social outings. Probation: any screw-up and 
I get out the paddle - or the belt. Nothing like this will ever happen 
again."

"Yes, Sir. It won't."

"Corey, I love you, but I won't put up with misbehavior, and I won't 
tolerate lies. Don't make me punish you." They hugged, lovingly."

Later, she lay awake, thinking. Spankings hurt, and she hated 
restrictions, but it was good to know that someone cared. She never 
knew that more than when she was being punished. It was the best of 
times; it was the worst of times.

-D.A.L.  June 2002