The sky was as blue as Christian’s eyes, the sun warm
and the ocean breeze kept it from becoming painfully hot.
There was no more vibrant paradise than San Francisco.
And he had stories to tell about that city and its
teaming life.
Now a newspaper reporter, he delved into the task with
gusto, thinking he’d found not just the perfect place to live
but the perfect job—while its fascination lingered.
It was steadier work than he’d had in some years, but
he considered that necessary—now that he had a wife.
“Mr. Remington, I’m so glad to have found you!”
Miss Gracie Aldinger accosted him on the street while he was on
his way to City Hall.
“You have to do something about your wife?”
“Ma’am,” he tipped his hat charmingly.
“She’s in the mercantile raising—you’ll excuse my
language—all holy hell.”
Christian’s eyes opened wide with concern.
“You must see to the situation right now. I’m afraid
there’s going to be a riot if someone doesn’t stop her.”
“Oh, dear,” he sighed.
“You
really need to find some way to contain that wild one.
It will be both your undoing.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Christian replied.
Though he kept smiling, on the inside he was brewing
hotly at the notice of his Lottie’s latest terrorizing raid on
this civilized city.
Moving back through the throng of people on the street,
two blocks to the west he stepped into the mercantile to see a
small crowd gathered around his fire-breathing wife.
The frustrated proprietor and two crazed-looking women
with flashing eyes and looks of sheer panic on their astonished
faces.
With a jar of canned peaches in her hand, Lottie looked
as though she was about to send it flying in the women’s
direction.
“You take back what you said!” she repeated an
earlier demand Christian had not heard.
“I think not!” one woman shot out angrily despite the
threatening jar of peaches.
“You’re a vile bitch!” Lottie fumed.
“And you are no lady.”
“I wouldn’t want to be one, if you think you are.
I wouldn’t want to be related to your species!
You mooing cow!”
“Mrs. Remington, get a hold of yourself!” the
proprietor, Mr. Bradley, exclaimed.
“You tell this bitch to take back what she said,”
Lottie demanded.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Christian finally wiggled
his way through those in front of him.
“Christian!” Lottie whipped around. “You tell
them!”
“Hand me the jar, Lottie,” he ignored her argument.
They were always useless battles that never made any
sense to him, but for some reason they seemed necessary to his
hot-headed wife.
He didn’t want details; just Lottie safely out of the
store.
“No!” She stared at the jar in her raised hand, then
looked glaringly toward her husband.
“Yes, Lottie,” he assured her moving closer as he
did.
“Your wife is rude, ill-mannered and vulgar, Mr.
Remington,” one woman snapped sharply, apparently less
concerned for her safety since Christian arrived.
“She’s the rude, vulgar one!” Lottie shot back
meanly.
“You fucking bitch!”
“Lottie, that’s enough!” Christian roared.
He leapt on her, wresting the peaches from her grasp as
she struggled against him unwilling to let go.
“Stop it now,” he seethed as quietly as he could, as
though he was trying to talk personally to her in the midst of
the curious crowd of onlookers.
“I will not stop!” she roared at him as he pinned her
arms from behind.
“You’ll apologize and go home,” he informed her.
“I will not!” She was only becoming more livid with
each breath she drew.
“Lottie, now!” Christian hissed, but she made no move
to obey.
Her small body could be robust in a fight, and her pointy
boots packed a mean shot at the shins. Turning about, she gave
him a nasty blow to his left leg and a miserable pain shot
through to his groin.
Changing tactics, Christian gathered the necessary
strength to overthrow her.
With the momentum on his side, the jar of peaches went
crashing to the floor; and while the astonished patrons of the
mercantile looked on, Christian sank into a chair with his wife
going over his lap.
Seconds later, her skirt went flying and he spanked her
bouncing behind as hard as his hand would allow over the thin
material of her bloomers.
“Christian stop!” Lottie blared.
“You stop your wiggling, and apologize to these people,
I just might.”
“I will not apologize to bitches!” she blared.
Christian spanked her harder still, though his hand was
feeling the pain as dearly as was his wife.
Mr. Bradley, noting his grimace, handed him a shiny new
wooden ruler, “Here, this should help,” he said.
Christian welcomed the relief, and with a firm grasp on
one end, he renewed his grip around Lottie’s waist and begin
pelting her bottom with the unforgiving implement.
“Ouch! You ass!” she cried, renewing her own strength
against her husband’s.
Unfortunately for Lottie, Christian was much stronger.
She felt as though she were bound by iron ropes. “I
hate you,” she shouted.
“You’ll hate me even more if you don’t
apologize.”
“Never!”
The spanking continued, the two fighting vigorously, the
demands, retorts and cries of anguish continuing until it would
seem that both of them should be exhausted.
“You know you have quite a crowd looking on, Lottie,”
he finally retorted between strikes.
I wonder if they’d like to see this ruler laid on your
bare ass?”
“You wouldn’t!”
“You want to try me?”
He was still swatting her, but not so hard that she
couldn’t reply, or couldn’t look up and realize the
mortifying position she was in, getting spanked in the middle of
the general mercantile, with a dozen spellbound eyes focused on
her ass.
The realization of the embarrassing plight becoming all
too real, something in her spirit finally gave in.
“Okay, I’ll apologize,” she at last spit out.
Hearing her relent, Christian stopped the spanking
immediately.
However, as she rose from his lap, he took no chances.
Rising with her, he kept her locked firmly against his
side.
“I’m sorry,” she spat out awkwardly—still very
angry. “I said some things I shouldn’t have.
But then you all did too.”
“Lottie,” Christian droned at her from behind.
“I’m sorry.
I never should have …” her voice drifted off.
Each word seemed stuck in her throat and difficult to
say.
Realizing that he had all the apology he was going to get
from his wife, Christian decided to end the awful scene.
“Go home, Lottie.
I’ll be there to finish things off shortly.”
By then, she was so humiliated she forgot her anger, and
fled the mercantile as quickly as she could and still maintain
some degree of poise.
Christian
remained only long enough to help Mr. Bradley clean up the
broken jar of peaches, pay him for the damages and repeat, more
effusively, the apology that came so reluctantly from his wife.
He still needed to get to city hall, but he’d have to take
care of Lottie’s punishment first.
There was no way he was going to leave the volatile woman
by herself to stew on this alone.
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