The song was not hers.

The song had been written long ago, its words and its notes arranged even before she was born. Its creators had birthed it from a spark of inspiration, and it had grown with many voices since.

But for this short moment, the song and all it meant belonged to her. Its desire to take wing, to embrace change. And - most poignant for her - an underlying fear that opportunity not taken was opportunity lost, maybe forever.

Belting out the final note, Rachel set down the microphone as applause erupted from the audience. She bowed – a bit too much, perhaps, considering the venue, but she was feeling the spirit.

Ooh, she thought, maybe she should do “Spirit of Radio” as well. Or would two Rush songs be too many?

“Everyone give it up for the birthday girl! Now coming to the stage… Olivia, performing her own rendition of ‘Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under’!”

As soon as it had begun, her moment was over. Taking a swig of her drink, Rachel flipped her long black hair from her eyes and returned quietly to her seat at the back of the bar. The karaoke host directed a slightly tipsy Olivia toward the screen that would be playing the lyrics.

Rachel flipped open her phone to find no new messages. Some birthday this was turning out to be – she’d invited all of her Myspace friends to come out, and not only had nobody come, none of them had even bothered to write back. Except for Sammi, and she only did it to remind Rachel that she still wanted her $200 back from the last time they’d hung out. Bitch.

Truth be told, she’d been hoping some of her friends would come out just so she could split the bill. She told herself that she’d left her last job for good reason – the boss was a prick and had been looking for an excuse to fire her ever since she’d cut herself on the meat slicer and cost him a workplace safety claim – but her savings hadn’t lasted long since then. She was out of favours to call in, and her friends had either gotten wise to her, or were just as strapped for cash.

It wasn’t fair. This was her birthday, she was supposed to be enjoying herself, not worrying if her card would be declined when she went to pay for her drink.

As if willed into being, a shot materialized before her.

“Compliments of the gentleman in the corner.”

The waitress pointed to a man at the bar. His features were hawkish, his salt-and-pepper hair cast in blue from the bar’s neon lighting. He wore a leather jacket that told her he either rode a motorcycle or never gave up the dream of having one. But most striking were the dark eyes that she could see staring at her from across the busy room.

Rachel had gotten used to the stares of older men since she was in eighth grade. She waved a careful thanks back to him.

Evidently, that was enough to be taken as an invitation. As the crowd cheered for the end of Olivia’s round, he waded in and came up to Rachel’s table.

“These people don’t know what they’re cheering for,” he started.

“You mean Olivia?”

“She’s got a pretty voice and all, but she has no breath control, no technique. You actually know what you’re doing up there, but you get no more or less credit than she does. Why is that, do you think?”

“She’s here with her friends,” Rachel countered, “Also, she’s falling out of her top. I understand that guys enjoy that sort of thing.”

The stranger shrugged. “Not a breast man, myself. Aren’t you going to have your shot?”

Rachel considered the glass for a moment, then knocked it back just to watch his reaction. He smiled an instant before the shot’s spicy aftertaste hit her tongue.

“Ah,” she managed, her eyes watering.

“You like it?”

“Now that I know what to expect… actually, yeah.”

He gestured to the waitress behind the bar, who signaled back to him with a tired expression. A moment later, she deposited two more glasses in front of them. The stranger raised his glass in salute.

“What are we toasting?” Rachel ventured.

“To you, my dear. Happy birthday.”

“I’ll drink to that. My name’s Rachel, by the way.”

He gulped down his drink. “I know. I heard it when the host called you up.” He fumbled in his jacket pocket and set a card down on the table.

“Hugo Caine,” she read. “You’re a producer, are you? Movie business?”

“Music, actually. I own a studio about four blocks from here. And no, I’m not scouting for talent; I just finished a six-day album session and came here to unwind.”

Rachel’s interest was piqued – she’d hoped to find work as a DJ when she’d left her parents house over three years ago, but the cost of the equipment she would need had held her back. And Hugo here had all but fallen into her lap, someone with a full studio and industry contacts.

It seemed just a little too good to be true.

“So you didn’t come down here just to flirt with girls young enough to be your daughter?” she teased.

“Unintentional, but not unappreciated. Also, I don’t have kids.”

“Are you married?”

“Never had the pleasure. Although I have certain… proclivities that make it hard to maintain a long-term relationship.”

Rachel could feel the hairs on her arm rising. She downed her shot to settle her nerves.

“And what kind of ‘proclivities’ are we talking about?”

“I like to punish little girls when they’ve been bad.”

She blushed, not just from the alcohol. “What makes you think I’ve been a bad girl?”

“I’ve been watching you, Rachel. It’s your special day, you’ve put on a hell of a performance, but then you go back to your table – alone – and you know how you look?”

“Do tell.”

“You look guilty. You look like you’re not supposed to be here. Am I close?”

Rachel knew she was short, but under his jet-black gaze, she felt like the size of an ant. Her phone was still just within arm’s reach. The digital clock read five after midnight – she was too late to catch the last bus home, but maybe she could call her roommate and ask for a ride. Surely Alex wouldn’t still be holding last month’s rent against her?

She saw that Hugo was still waiting for his answer.

“I don’t know,” she replied weakly. “Hugo. You seem like a nice guy…”

“Nope.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Honest? Absolutely. I’m a provider, and a protector, and I’m generous to a fault. Those all seem like things you could use right now. But I’m not, and have never been, nice.”

She had the words at the tip of her tongue. I’m not sure we’re a fit.

Or, this isn’t a good time for me to start a relationship.

Or, I don’t trust my own decisions right now.

But she couldn’t spit any of them out.

“And if it sweetens the deal,” he added, “I’ll cover your tab.”

Somewhere behind them, the host called out the next singer to perform “Hit Me with Your Best Shot”. Rachel took it as serendipity.

*** 

Hugo didn’t have a motorbike, as it turned out. Nevertheless, Rachel was quietly impressed when he pointed out the candy-apple-red sports car at the end of the lot. She wasn’t a ‘gear head’, but she was pretty certain that the vehicle’s body was older than her own.

“It’s vintage, just like me,” he joked.

Only once during the ride did the thought strike her, she was alone in a car with a strange man whom she’d met in a bar. A man who said that he wanted to… no. She’d taken that leap already, she couldn’t take it back now.

She pulled her dress back down over her knees. The tight black number had looked so slinky in the mall changing room, but it had taken her until tonight to discover that not only was the material too thin to wear in December but that it bunched up around her hips every time she sat down. If Hugo didn’t keep his eyes on the road, he was going to get a flash of her panties.

She should have worn different underwear.

“Quiet, aren’t you? We’re here.”

The squat two-story townhouse looked perfectly innocuous under the streetlights. Less than a block away from the main thoroughfare, she’d have passed it before without even knowing the studio was there. She’d even have missed the business name printed under the address plaque if he hadn’t pointed it out.

Hugo opened the door for her, continuing, “I call this my official residence – I have a house on Lakeshore as well, but it’s gotten too late to drive all the way out there tonight.”

He paused, gauging her reaction. “You’re not changing your mind, are you?”

“No.”

He turned on the lights. Rachel gasped. The walls of the foyer were adorned with awards and album art dating back to… again, around the time she was born, she figured. She’d heard the songs, but she’d never really put together that they would have been recorded in a place like this. She wanted to ask if she could see the studio itself… but he was right, it was late and he probably didn’t want to spend any more time in what was, to be frank, his workplace.

But if the night went well (Whatever that meant!), maybe she would find herself here again.

Hugo beckoned, and she followed him up the stairs. He indicated the room at the end of the hall, and said he would join her after he took a moment to ‘freshen up’.

There was a bed and what was probably a vanity when not being used as a workstation. It was a green room, she recognized, but it looked different without the instruments, the clothes, the makeup, the open two-fours… it looked, as best she could describe, lonely. The only light came from the illuminated mirror on the desk, casting a dim glow through the room.

She sat down on the bed, unsure what was expected of her. After a moment, she pulled the straps on her dress down past her shoulders, freeing up a spot of cleavage. Let Mr. Hugo Caine admire the merchandise, she thought.

Suddenly he appeared in the doorway, watching her. Without comment, he walked over to the desk and pulled out the chair. He took off his coat and carefully hung it over the back. Taking his seat, he unfastened his watch and began to roll up his sleeves.

Rachel didn’t know the script, but it was clearly her cue.

“So what happens now?”

“I think we’ll leave the whips and chains for another night,” he answered, “Tell me, have you ever had a birthday spanking?”

She bit her lip playfully. “I wouldn’t say I haven’t…”

“Not a virgin, eh? Then you know the position.”

She stood. She thought for a moment that she should replace her straps, but before she could decide, Hugo had taken her by the arm and gently pulled her over his lap. The fabric of her dress shifted as she adjusted to her new predicament, her face tilted towards the floor, her ass in the air. Her liquid courage was beginning to fade.

His hand caressed her bottom. She’d always been self-conscious about that feature of hers, taking pains to wear clothing that minimized her silhouette or drew attention away from her butt and thighs. She’d taken a dare with this outfit, and Hugo’s palpable appreciation for her figure made her feel pretty good about herself.

A loud pop sounded through the green room an instant before Rachel felt the impact. It was a pat – a firm pat – but it was more a sound than a feeling. He did it again, and she bucked as he made contact.

“Okay so far?”

She nodded, then remembered that she was facing away from him and voiced an affirmative. She thought she heard a chuckle.

Rachel couldn’t quite put her finger on why, but through the haze of nerves and alcohol, she was beginning to get turned on. This posture was unusual, even silly, but there was something about it that made her feel – secure? And his palm on her ass wasn’t half bad, either.

He spanked her again.

“Do you know why you’re in this position, young lady?”

“Because I was a bad girl,” she drawled back.

“’Because I was a bad girl, sir. And why are you being punished?”

Clearly, he’d had this conversation before, with other women who’d put themselves in this same embarrassing position. Maybe there was a guidebook somewhere. She giggled.

“Is something funny?”

“No, it’s nothing. I was naughty and let a strange man take me home.”

He patted her once more, then pulled back. This time when he struck, he did so like lightning. Rachel gasped.

“Ow! I was naughty and let a strange man take me home, sir!”

She’d hoped that compliance would please him, but she was soon to be proven wrong. The time for love pats was done, and his iron hand came down again and again.

“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously, Rachel.”

“Ow, I am, I swear! Sir!”

“I think you’ve needed this lesson for a long time, haven’t you?”

“Yes, sir!”

“You girls are all the same, you know that? Every one of you thinks that because you’re young and pretty and you bat your eyelashes just so, that you don’t have to face any consequences. That you can go to a bar without a cent in your pocket and some white knight is going to jump in and save you.”

At no time did he slow down or let up his attack. Despite the anger behind his words, his voice remained calm, his movements brisk and methodical as he covered the entirety of Rachel’s backside.

Once as a child, she’d been stung by a wasp on the back of her thigh. She remembered it had hurt, but more than that she remembered that her parents had stopped everything to soothe and comfort her until the pain faded. Was this how that had felt?

Finally, the slaps stopped coming. Rachel sighed in relief.

“Are you listening to me, Rachel?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you agree?”

“I can take care of myself. Sir.” Her bottom ached. She might still have some burn cream at her apartment.

“If that’s true, where is your phone?”

To her horror, Rachel couldn’t answer. She remembered having it in her hand when was talking to Hugo at the bar, but didn’t remember where she’d put it last. She had to have taken it with her when she left – right?

“It’s in my car,” he offered. “Along with your purse. Do you still think it’s so funny now that you went home with a strange man?”

He leaned over, his fingers reaching under the hem of her dress.

"Lift up your bottom, girl."

It had been a long time since she’d done laundry. The dress was new, but as for underwear, she’d had the choice of either stained or worn. The threadbare panties she had on had seemed like the best option at the time.

“Been a while since you’ve been out shopping?” He sounded almost amused.

She felt like hiding her face, even if he couldn’t see it. “Yes, sir.”

She expected the spanking to begin again, but Hugo was silent. She felt his weight shift, and saw the coat he’d slung over the chair move as he drew something from the inner pocket.

There was a metallic click, and then…

Snip.

Snip.

The pull of nylon on her hips loosened, the cloth slithering down between her thighs and leaving her stripped from the waist down. She shrieked, but she was too late to stop him.

And then he began again.

There was no lecture this time. He’d made his point, and it was now his mission to drive it home. Rachel’s mouth moved freely, but uttered no more than a croak. She could have been screaming her head off, but the sound would have been lost to the smacks and cracks that underscored the reddening of her backside.

With the dress no longer holding her legs together, she was free to flail and kick as much as she liked. It made no difference to the metronome of agony that was his unrelenting hand. She found herself grasping his leg for dear life, regretting every missed opportunity and poor decision that had led her to this place.

In the years to come, she would think back on this. Of all the regrets that she considered at this moment, the choice to bend over Hugo Caine’s knee was not among them. Maybe he was right and what she was enduring was the rent coming due for every consequence she’d ducked in her life. Or maybe it because the instant that she gave up control and surrendered to the pain, she was seized with a kind of rush she’d never felt before.

The fire that was consuming her bottom spread out into a glow that enveloped her entire body. Rachel’s vision blurred, her legs shot out, toes pointed. A low, ragged moan broke free from her chest, her first perceptible sound.

“Did you just come?” he asked, and she noticed only then that he had stopped.

She shook her head, too dazed to speak.

“Huh. That would have been a first.”

He helped her to her feet, her dress still bunched up under her belly. He held her head between his hands and kissed her on the forehead.

“It’s over now. How did that feel?”

“It hurt,” she pouted. It was true, if reductive.

“You learned your lesson, though, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you want, I can get you a cab. I owe you that much – well, that and a new pair of panties.” His soft tone grew serious again. “Anything you want. Anything you need. Just remember, there is always a cost.”

Rachel’s weighed the offer. She imagined what her roommate would say if she were to slink back home in the wee hours, her makeup streaked and her underwear missing. Would it even matter, or would this be just another example of her irresponsibility?

Hugo wasn’t just a one-night stand, either. This was a man who could take her places if she played her cards right – Hell, taking her out of half of a basement apartment would be a good first step. He had his price, but didn’t everyone?

And she could take another spanking, if it came down to it. Maybe even come to like it.

“And if I wanted to stay the night,” Rachel managed, “What would that cost me?”

His teeth glistened in the faint light. He sat down and unzipped his slacks.

She kneeled on the floor beside the shredded remains of her panties and wrapped her hands around his cock. It was warm and hard – he’d been hard since she was across his lap. She heard him gasp as she took his length into her mouth.

After he came – forcefully and unexpectedly – they lay naked together on the bed. He held her young body close against his weathered chest and whispered in her ear as he dozed off. Less than three years later that rush would vanish, and an acrimonious breakup would see they never reunited.

But that night, he nestled his head in the mass of Rachel’s hair and said with dumb post-coital sincerity that he loved her.

It was the first - and last - time she heard those words from Hugo Caine.