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From: darla@accessone.com (Darla)
Subject: Pepper Dyson: The Date, Part I (teen/spnk/inc)

A randomly selected six year old boy will tend overwhelmingly to
prefer chocolate ice-cream to sexual intercourse.  For a sixteen year
old boy, these preferences will, in general, be reversed.  Apart from
that, there really isn't any major difference between the two. This
unhappy truth has been thrust, like a dagger in her heart, into
Pepper Dyson's awareness.  She has just returned from her first
_real_ date.

Oh she has done plenty of socializing with "the opposite sex" (and
never has that description seemed more accurate to Pepper than now)
-- in groups; at parties; at school.  But her parents don't approve
of young women getting into the dating thing, until they have
achieved a certain level of maturity. Only a couple of months ago,
shortly after her 15th birthday, and a great deal of heavy
discussion, had they given their reluctant nod.

In part to justify their confidence, but mainly because Pepper
doesn't like to do anything important "off the cuff", she has put off
the initial foray until tonight.  It was very important to her to get
it right, and for that you need a plan. Pepper is a great one for
plans, but _this_ was her masterpiece.  Compared to Pepper's grand
design, Schlieffen's most strenuous effors pale into insignificance.

First the 'man' -- the centerpiece of the whole operation.  The right
selection involved a lot of scouting. He had to be good-looking, of 
course, though not one of the narcissistic ones (why are there _so_
many_ of those, anyway?) -- never go out with anybody who thinks
that he is better looking than you. And he had to be somebody who
could _talk_, who could put more than two grammatical sentences
side-by-side -- you have to be able to introduce him to your friends
after all.  Nothing is worse than the knowing looks on the faces of
friends as they meet your male bimbo.

It turns out that there _are_ a few who fit these criteria, but once
you add the really crucial thing, the list shrinks almost to
nonexistence. The crucial thing, for want of a better word, is
"sensitivity". He had to have "finer feelings" as Pepper thinks of
this issue, though she has sense enough not to use this label out
loud.  So there you are, the crucial first date had to be handsome,
intelligent, and sensitive. For a wonder, Pepper's school contained
such a paragon -- one Geoff by name.

Geoff is in the same year as Pepper (which makes him a year older
than she, since she has 'skipped' a year) but in a different
home-room. In fact, the two have only one class together, English.
>From his showing in this class, Pepper knows that he has a
satisfactory number of neurons firing in the right sequence.  They
have been vying, good-naturedly, for the top spot in the class all
year. And he writes poetry! What better evidence of finer feelings
could there possibly be? He once nervously showed her some of his
verse when she had asked him what he was working on, before a class.
It wasn't even too awful!

To add the spice of a challenge, Geoff is widely regarded by the
girls of Pepper's acquaintaince to be out of reach.  This is
because not only does Geoff have a girlfriend, he has an _older_
girlfriend. It is an almost unheard of accomplishment that
causes both his male and female classmates to regard him as
a superior being of some kind. Geoff's girlfriend, Sheila, is a 
year ahead of him, a _very_ good-looking young lady who, by all
accounts, _knows_ things.  It must follow then, that her 
boyfriend is possessed of similar, if not superior knowledge.
It is the cause of endless satisfying speculation in the
lunchroom.

But then Pepper knows things too.  She knows, for example that
things are not always as they seem, in the way of 'relationships'
especially. Always learn the ground before a battle and get the
best intelligence you can.  It turns out that Pepper's brother
Steve, and Sheila's brother are classmates.  The ever-obliging
Steve makes a few (very discreet) enquires and discovers that 
Sheila is not Geoff's love interest, for the simple reason that 
she is gay!  She has been using Geoff as a beard, very successfully 
it seems, and with his connivance.  Here is more proof, if any were 
needed, of his sensitivity!

Once the major obstacle had been found to be no obstacle at all,
the rest was easy -- child's play really.  Ask to see more of his 
verse, praise it extravagantly, wait for him to ask you out. Bang
bang, bang. Well, more like bang, bang, pop. The "asking out" part
had a few kinks. "Waiting" wouldn't quite get the job done.  It was
obvious enough that Geoff _wanted_ to ask Pepper out, and more than
obvious. But he couldn't think of a way to do it without blowing his
cover.  It was funny really -- watching him look at her with goo-goo
eyes, the wheels so transparently going round, but nothing coming
out. Finally it was time to force the issue. After a long and intense
discussion of poetry, Pepper reached across the cafeteria table and
touched Geoff's hand briefly with her own. "I just wanted to say,
that I like you a lot." Furious blush from the object of her assault.
"Oh me too Pepper! I mean I like you too ... I wish ... But there's
Sheila you see and ...." Pepper smiled gently then "Geoff, I _know_
about Sheila.  Don't worry, her secret is safe with me."

At this there came an expression on Geoff's face which was an
amalgam of relief and irritation -- but the former predominated.
"Well, since you know already, maybe the two of _us_ could go out
sometime?  But we'd have to be a bit careful!" Another hand touch.
"Of course Geoff -- I understand that perfectly.  And I'd _love_
to go out with you." And there went the last bang. It was all set for
the following Saturday.

Was there now to be a mad scramble in the interim -- looking
for just the right outfit to wear; a more alluring new scent; the
perfect makeup?  Certainly not!  Don't forget, we are talking about
the Pepper Plan here!  She had known about the upcoming Saturday
night for weeks.  It's all part of the Plan, and all those decisions
about clothes and such, they'd been carefully thought out long since.
No  -- what happened with this "free time" was that the plan got 
extended and refined. In the crude first draft, it had the choice of
movie, the kind of witty and romantic conversation at the following
snack, and one or two possibilities for the "after" part -- delicious 
possibilities. But the refinements carried on quite a long way from 
there.  If you've got the time, it's always wise to spend it on
planning. Toujours la prevision!

So what should happen _after_ this first date?  Well, to call it
"first" would seem to imply some kind of sequence, no?  With Geoff so
obviously attracted to Pepper, and he being so suitable (and who
knows how long it might be before another candidate with Geoff's
qualifications turned up -- maybe never!) best to capitalize on the
existing resources. So there must be other dates, leading to more and
more intimacy.  Leading, in point of plain fact, to _love_.  It was
so obvious.  Geoff was already more than halfway to love already, if
only he'd known, (but men never do, do they?) and Pepper, the
hard-nosed realist, could see the advantages. Many and various are
the advantages of being in love and Pepper carefully catalogued them
all.  Yes, love would suit her very well thank you.

And after that?  Well they couldn't very well get married next week
or anything. They'd have to finish high school for a start.  And then
there's college -- have to go to the same one.  Pepper makes a note
to start talking about this important topic with 'her' Geoff as soon
as possible.  It might take some time to find just the right college,
so you couldn't start too soon to think about the future.  With all
this dreaming about the wonderful life to be shared by her and Geoff,
Pepper quite forgot about the starting point. It was almost as if 
Saturday night lay behind her, already an accomplished fact.  But it 
wasn't.

No it wasn't accomplished at all.  It was a complete and utter
disaster. Geoff showed up a half-hour early!  Punctuality would have
been perfect. A few minutes early would have been charming, even a
little flattering. But half an hour is a serious inconvenience -- it
might even be a sign of well, _thoughtlessness_.  But ok, put that
behind us.  Maybe Geoff just has a case of the jitters.  But next was
the movie. Pepper had given a great deal of weight to the selection
of the correct movie.  It had to be one that would provide her and
Geoff with a topic of conversation and one that would demonstrate to
each other, their "finer feelings".  The Pepper plan called for a
movie playing at a local 'art' house and Geoff had readily agreed.
But on their way, Geoff had casually informed her that he'd heard
that a number of their classmates were planning to go to that film so
that prudence required the two of them go elsewhere.  Just like that,
and without so much as a by-your-leave! And worse than this casual
flouting of the Plan, Geoff simply announced that they would go
instead to see an "action" picture playing nearby instead.

Pepper had started to get a bad feeling at that point -- a feeling
that proved to be well-grounded.  For the movie was just silly 
beyond belief and Geoff seemed to actually _enjoy_ it. There
was no intellectual fallout from the film at all; not one topic
that Pepper could turn into one of the conversational paths dictated
by the Plan.  After the last of uncountably many car chases and
gun battles, Pepper and Geoff went off to a cafe for a snack and
the talk they had was notable for its lack of sparkle and wit. Pepper
tried heroically to rescue the Plan and had no help from Geoff at
all. To be honest, Geoff seemed far more interested in staring at
Pepper's chest (a wonderful sight to be sure) than in engaging her
with witty repartee.  In a definite hurry he was.  He actually
uttered the words "Well, lets get this show on the road."! Worse and
worse.

But worst of all, was the 'parking'. There were no declarations of
undying love; no poetic descriptions of Pepper's great beauty;
nothing that had ever been within hailing distance of the Plan. The
only talking Geoff did, was to whine in a very unattractive way
about how 'going' with Sheila had made him sexually frustrated. This
was followed at once by a clumsy grab for Pepper's breasts. It was
the very last straw. First an admonition "Oh please Geoff, don't do
that." Next, when the request had no observable effect, a stinging
slap to the handsome Geoffry face.

This had the effect of cooling his ardor and also seemed to make
him _angry_! "Jesus Pepper, what did you do that for?" What the
hell did you think I did it for, you bozo? "I'm sorry Geoff, I didn't
mean to hit you quite that hard. But you were just going too fast."
This was not much better received than the slap had been. "Too fast?
You'd think I was trying to rape you or something.  You're turning
out to be quite the cock-teaser aren't you?" Right.  It was all her
fault. Very cooly "Well, if you feel that way, maybe you'd better
take me home right now."  And he had, grumbling about "little cock-
teasers" under his breath the whole way. Young Geoff really knew
how to ingratiate himself with a woman.

And now she's back at her darkened house.  Well at least she doesn't
have to answer her parent's questions about the "big date" and why
she has returned so early. They are away visiting and won't be back 
until late. Stomp stomp  -- up the walk and open the door. Close it
firmly (but not slammed!  Little children do that sort of thing)
behind you and turn on the hall lights.  Except Pepper doesn't have
to turn on the lights, since they are already on. She looks around,
startled, an angry flush seeping up her neck.  Oh this is just great.
The lights are on and her brother Steve is at the foot of the stairs
looking at her. It's all too much.  First the asshole date and now
her big brother "waiting up for her" as if she were a cheeseball
sixth grader. Next he'll want all the gory details.  Best get the
boot in first.

"What the hell are you looking at?" she sneers. In response to this
challenge, Steve displays a wisdom beyond his years. "Me? I'm not
looking at anything.  I just came downstairs to get myself a drink."
He holds the soft-drink can aloft as proof of his bona fides. "Fine,
you just take your drink, Butthead, and go back upstairs and babysit
Beavis.  I don't feel like talking right now." Unfortunately Steve's
wisdom doesn't extend to detecting the difference between a woman's
not feeling like talking (but really wanting and needing to) and
_really_ not feeling like talking. But it's a subtle difference
sometimes, and Steve is a man after all, so back upstairs he goes --
to Pepper's increased irritation.

Faced with her brother's defection, Pepper goes into the living-room
and sits down in the dark.  How could it all have gone so fucking
_wrong_? Well, she thinks, her eye falling upon the liquor cabinet.
A good slug of something or other and she can get right down to
planning Round Two. It will have to be with someone other than the
cup of pond scum called Geoff, of course, but he was, after tonight,
out of sight and out of daydreams.  She is, it would seem, in a
royally filthy mood.

Pouring a slug of creme de menthe into a tumbler, Pepper takes a 
lusty draft to banish the thought of Geoff and his churlish moves. 
It's rather too large a swallow for her and she coughs explosively.
There comes a sound from the doorway and she whirls around spilling
the drink clutched not very securely in her hand.  There stands
brother Steve, come downstairs again to see if his little sister
might want to talk after all.  His look of sympathetic understanding
is short-lived. "What the hell are you _doing_, you little jerk?"
Oops.  Perhaps it's time for the worldly and sophisticated Pepper to
have a little rest and let the wiley teenager hold sway for a bit.
"I'm just sitting here!" she snarls. "What are you getting all bent
out of shape about?" A bit more wiley would have been better.  "Oh
right.  And I suppose the liquor cabinet just opened by itself and
that stuff running down your chin is some disgusting green cough
syrup?"

Pepper starts to boil dangerously close to the rim of her personal
pot. There is little left in her small box of tricks this evening,
but brass still lines the bottom.  "Ever heard of 'Nyquil', creep?  I
think I am getting a cold." She sniffs convincingly  and huffs over
to the couch. Steve rolls his eyes, the flush on his face revealing
his anger at having his brotherly concern blown off by his flippant
sister.  "I ought to leave you here and let you drink that crap until
you pass out...let Mom and Dad find you and wale your tail."  "Well
why the hell don't you just do that, Mr. Babysitter? After all,
couldn't do it yourself, couldja, Stevie? Might get a woodie, huh?
Might have to use up your Kleenex later?  Whudja name the box,
anyway...'Linda'?" Steve balls his hands into fists at the sound 
of his late, lamented girlfriend's name.  Bad enough Pep had driven
her off, but this...

Steve crosses the room in a stride, kicking shut the liquor cabinet
on the way to his sister. Taken by surprise, Pepper can do little
more than squeak as Steve grabs her upper arm , hauls her to her
feet, and takes her place on the flowered couch.  "Let me go, you
pervert, you creep, you...." she begins, but he cuts her off,
furious.  His jaw is clenched so tight he can barely speak.  "Don't
you *ever*, EVER, kid me about..." "Ok ok all right, Jesus, let me go
you Bonehead, shit, let me GO!!! NOOOOO!!!!!"  Pepper is
unceremoniously dragged across her brother's strong thighs, and both
wrists are held to the small of her back.  Nothing happens for a
moment.  Then Steve, remembering his little sister's surprising
strength, slips one leg out from beneath her belly and clamps it over
the backs of her thighs, effectively pinioning her and coincidentally
arching her plump bottom up perfectly for what Steve has in mind.  He
is going to show his bratty sister that he can deliver a punishment
paddling as well as Mom *or* Dad.

Pepper, her grown-up makeup smeared, turns to look at her brother,
her fury rolling off her in hot waves. "You let me go Stevie, or I
swear..."  "You swear what, you little bitch?  You NEED a good
spanking sometimes, *I* swear, and I can give it to you, don't think
I can't...don't think I WON'T!"

With that pronouncement, Steve takes a deep breath, quickly flips his
sister's skirt up, grabs the waistband of Pepper's thin nylon panties
and pulls.  They come down easily, Pepper howls in furious protest.
"Let me go let me go let me GO!!!" she shrieks, struggling impotently
against his strength.  Steve closes his eyes for a minute as the
full, smooth, china-white globes of his sister's bottom are
presented.  Despite his anger and determination, he feels that
stirring in the root of his belly, and decides he had better get this
over with.  

He raises his hand and brings it down firmly across the bottom slopes
of Pepper's pretty cheeks.  "OW! Not so HARD!" she protests.  "I'll
show you HARD, young lady!"  SLAP*SLAP*SLAP*SMACK*SMACK!!! Steve's
hand bounces over the surface of Pepper's upturned bottom, covering
it with crimson.  She wiggles and squirms, kicking up first one foot,
then the other as the sting spreads and deepens.  "This time, young
lady, you are going to really feel it, this time, you are SPANK going
to learn SPANK something about SPANK responsibility SPANK and how to
treat the SPANK people who SPANK care about SPANK you!!!"  Her thighs
fall open as she kicks. "Stevie, NOOOOOOOOO, OHHHHh I'm sorry I'm
sorry...OWOWOWOWOWOW it hurrrrrrts, PLEEEEEase!!!" Steve's breath
starts to come hard and short. "You...you...SPANK SPANK SPANK!!!!!"
His hand, raised for one more slap, hovers and is lowered.  His voice
is rough. There is a long, hot silence.  Peppers crimson bottom
quivers, inches from his hand.  Her breasts lift and press, lift and
press against the surface of the couch as she heaves for breath.  She
is not crying.  She is not.  She presses one small soft moan into the
silence, and her hips jerk once, twice.

"Ok, get up.  And go upstairs and get ready for bed, you brat.  I'll
clean up down here and then I'm going to bed too."  He has dumped her
unceremoniously onto the couch.  Pepper is half-sitting, half-lying,
rubbing her bottom and crying softly.  "GO!" he orders again, unable
to cradle and comfort her as Mom or Dad would have.  She looks at him
accusingly, her eyes big and wet. Suddenly, she IS crying.  "I'm
GOING, you creep!" she shouts, thinking this is the worst possible
end to the worst evening of her life.  She doesn't bother pulling up
her panties as she thunders up the stairs, headed for her room.

-- 


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