The message read simply: We need to talk.

He blinked, his coat sleeve dangling a hand’s breadth off from his wrist. When had she written that? And why? The rest of the whiteboard was blank. They’d gone shopping for groceries the day before…

… where she’d leaned into the curve of his neck, the heat of her breath making his hair stand on end…

… and he’d wiped the list clean after they’d returned. She might have written it last night, after he went to bed but before she’d joined him, but if that were the case he’d missed the note on his way out the door that morning.  The remaining weight of the coat on his shoulder reminded him, and he took it off, replacing it absently in the closet. He noticed that her own jacket had yet to find its way back there. So she wasn’t home as yet.

Whatever talking she felt they needed to do, it wasn’t going to happen yet. He cracked his neck, stiff against his starched collar. He needed a shower, anyway, he could feel the stain of dirt and sweat still resting on his skin...

… where her lipstick had left a faint print, there, just below the jawline. She pressed a finger against the mark, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. She reached into the peach stand behind them, her fingers tracing the cleft of the plump fruit…

… the water would be a relief.

He undressed, leaving his clothes in a folded pile beside the bathroom door. He’d hang them back up later, when he wasn’t so… why did they need to talk? Did she have some kind of news to deliver to him that had to be done in person? Maybe she’d been promoted, gotten a full-time position. No, he told himself, opening the faucet, it wasn’t like her to be so curt. It was bad news, then. Bad news, or was it something he’d said? Something he’d done? He twisted the valve, and the shower head erupted, too hot, too soon. He flinched as the water struck his bare back…

… where he’d blushed, and covered her mouth, her teeth, her smile gone in an instant. Before he’d seen in her eyes a sparkle, a desire. Now they flickered from side to side, taking in the other shoppers. She set the peach down…

… but it wasn’t so bad, once he had acclimated. He lowered his hand from the tap and stood fully, letting the stream run down his spine. He let out a quiet sigh that reverberated off the tile and cracked his neck again. When would she be getting home? This uncertainty… it settled like a knot in his tendons. He didn’t care for it. Was there some reason she couldn’t have just up and told him what she wanted to discuss? Was she punishing him somehow? The night before, in the grocery store…

… where he’d inconspicuously lowered his hand and kissed her, quickly, on the forehead. He snapped up the peach she’d left behind and tucked it into their basket, giving her a little pinch as he led her back into the aisle…

… that was nothing. Or had become nothing, anyway. By the time they’d gotten home, her flirty mood had passed. He made dinner. She washed dishes. When they were finished, he was ready for bed and invited her to come with him, but she responded that she had work to do and would join him in a few hours.

She’d wanted him, and that made him want her more.

He still throbbed at the thought. Washing the rest of the lather from his scalp, he shut off the faucet and reached for his towel. Thinking on it didn’t help. Whatever she wanted to bring up with him would have to wait…

…where she’d grabbed his hand, her expression inscrutable. Their eyes met. Her lips still parted, as if to say something. But she remained silent…

… after he’d dried himself, rubbing the cloth very carefully between his legs, he slipped back into his briefs. He took his other clothes into the bedroom, where they kept a hamper in their closet. He pushed aside his other shirts and slacks, uncovering the basket hidden behind them.

And another note.

I need you to hear me out. Put your hands on the bedspread and keep them there until I come. I will be home shortly.

Please.

He stood in the closet doorway, in his underwear, for a long moment. Finally, he laughed. Had she been here, he’d have been at a loss for what to do, but in her absence he gave in to the absurdity of his situation.

She still wanted him. He wasn’t sure where that longing had gone since last night, but it was back, and with an intriguing twist. He wondered for a moment if he should re-dress, then he dropped the thought. She’d left the note in the basket, she’d intended to catch his attention while he was naked or nearly there. His mind began to wander again, but this time it was entertained with far more delightful notions.

He almost missed the sound of the door closing, and he realized with a start that she was home. His curiosity flushed into flight, he assumed the position she’d left him with, bending himself nearly double to rest his palms on the mattress. He heard footsteps approaching the bedroom, and noticed too late that in his haste to follow her instructions, he’d taken up a spot facing away from the door.

After a moment, she said, “I see that got your attention.”

He blushed, considering the view he was presenting her with. He became aware of the waistband of his briefs tugging against him, and wondered if she could see what kind of reaction she was having.  He pushed himself up from the bed.

“And here I was thinking you actually wanted to talk-“

He felt her hand grasp him by the back of the head, firmly but not roughly. He was much taller than she was, but in this pose his head only met with her chest. In the corner of his eye he could see her lower lip, her chin, a hint of cleavage peeking out below her cut-off.

“I do want to talk. And this once, you need to let me. Just let me talk, and keep your hands there. I promise, it will be worth it.”

She pushed him lightly back into place. Her feet slapped the hardwood floor. Bare feet. She’d taken off her shoes.

She paced behind him for a moment. He craned his neck, trying to track her over his shoulder, but she remained out of his field of vision.

“Is this about last night?” he ventured.

“You need to let me talk.”

“Alright.”

 “I know what I want to say,” she muttered, “But I’m trying to find a way to say it so it will make sense to you.”

She stopped. The air grew still.  He cleared his throat and waited.

The floor creaked as she took a step toward him. She rested her hand on his proffered backside, her fingernails brushing the swell of his buttocks. Almost absentmindedly, she drew her hand down. He shuddered.

“Do you like that?”

He nodded. She drew her hand back and slapped, hard.

“How about that?”

He swallowed and nodded again.

“You know what I like?” she mused, “I like to make you blush. You’re so cute when you’re bashful and flustered. I like to play. I like to tease.”

Even as she spoke, he could hear the telltale wisp of her sweat pants peeling from her legs. He glanced over his shoulders to see them thrown over the closet door. He caught a glimpse of bare leg.

“Those hands had better still be down, mister, or we’re both going to be very disappointed.”

He lowered himself again, and she gave him another smack for good measure. As an afterthought, she rubbed her knuckles against the underside of his briefs. If she hadn’t noticed before what kind of reaction she’d instilled…

She pulled her hand away. “I’m sorry.”

He suppressed a groan. “You don’t have any reason-“

“I want you to take me seriously.”

The room was quiet.

“Wait, that’s what this was about? Why am I standing like this, then?” His face was turning scarlet, and not only from the blood rush. She was making some kind of point, he was sure, but he was starting to suspect he’d been made the butt of a practical joke. Was she recording this?

Just as he tensed his hands to stand up, he felt her hand along his side. He relaxed.

“Well?”

She leaned down beside him, her lips brushing his ear. “Because this way I know you’re keeping your hands to yourself.”

… he’d covered her mouth…

She reached back and pinched his ass, just enough for him to take notice.

“Oh,” he managed.

“So you think it’s fair for you to pinch and play, when I can’t do anything?”

“It was in public, and you started it.”

He braced for the slap that was sure to come, but nothing did. He heard her feet slap the floor as she stepped away from him.

“You thought I was going to embarrass you?”

“Weren’t you?”

“Maybe a little.” He could imagine the grin that must have crept across her face, if only for a moment before her voice came back. “But how do you think I felt when you put your hand over my mouth? Sure, nobody else saw. I didn’t say anything. But you really killed the mood.”

He slumped, still holding himself in position. His upper arms were burning, he hadn’t expected to be stuck in this pose for so long. No - he had been standing for less than five minutes, all told. The ache he was feeling wasn’t just from strain.

She was right.

“I’m sorry,” he stated, “I didn’t mean to…”

… to what? He’d certainly meant to buy his composure with her silence. He’d acted pretty clearly to his intent there. And he understood why she’d be angry with him, but she wasn’t acting out of anger. That was more than he’d have been able to say, if he was the one standing where she was. But he also couldn’t imagine him holding his tongue at the time, either.

… their eyes met.

And then it hit him. More than the embarrassment, what had hurt her was his trying to play along after the fact, as if that would make it better. He’d stopped her game, only to resume play under his own rules.

She’d said as much, but he hadn’t been listening.

After a long moment of hearing nothing from him, she laid her hand down on his neck, twisting her fingers amidst the curls of his hair.

His shoulders trembling, he nodded. “I get it. This is to punish me, then?”

“Do you feel punished?”

“Not exactly. To tell you the truth… it’s actually pretty hot.”

She chuckled. He saw a single thigh in his periphery, bare but for a slip of fabric stretched tight on her hip. She passed him and began to gather pillows at the head of the bed.

“It was supposed to be an object lesson in empathy. It seems you were paying attention after all.”

“So I can get up now?”

She turned toward him, and for the first time since she arrived, he saw her face. She considered him, clearly amused. “You could have gotten up any time. You waited me out, and you listened. And I told you, I was going to make it worth your time.”

She sat up against the headboard, braced by pillows. Her bare legs unrolled down the bed, her feet coming to a rest before him. He thought about tickling them – briefly – then leaned back, stretching his shoulders, restoring his circulation. A quick glance at his briefs assured him that his arousal was back and making its presence known.

“We’re done, then?”

“I don’t know. I think you might need a spanking.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. A real over-the-knee deal, just to drive the drive the lesson home.” She patted her lap with a wicked grin on her face. “Come on, you know you like it.”

He groaned theatrically. “Do you have to say it like that?”

She rolled her eyes and snatched his hand, pulling him toward her. He didn’t resist, as his belly came to rest against her legs. She rested her palm on his ass, drawing little circles with her fingertips. Her touch lifted, rose into the air above him.

His briefs felt very confining at that moment.

“You know what?” she said, interrupting the moment, “I changed my mind.”

He twisted to face her. He couldn’t begin to describe the look he was giving her, but the sight of it caught her breath. Her whole body pulsed as she broke out in a fit of giggles.

“That’s not funny.”

“Sorry, poor choice of words.” She wiped her eyes. “What I meant is, there’s a tradition to these things.” Taking hold of his waistband, she stripped off his briefs, dropping them onto the floor. He blushed as a dab of fluid anointed her thigh.

He felt her rest her hand on his backside again.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

His voice caught in his throat, so he nodded. The minutes that followed were loud, and harsh and embarrassing – and deeply, deeply enjoyed. Finally, she decided his ass was sufficiently warm and tomato red, and turned her attention to a kinder but no less intimate touch. He eagerly rose to meet her.

Their lips met.

“Good talk,” he whispered, but she missed it, hurried fingers pulling at her clothes. She threw her panties absently to the floor where they pooled together with his underwear, both soon forgotten.