The Guardianship
Part Four
by Jack Lennox* * * * * * *
4
Nina Marie Andersson was feeling really very sneaky. She was not supposed to be at home; she was not supposed to be in Dan's office. On that Wednesday afternoon on the first day of July, using his computer might have been at the very top of the list of things she was not supposed to do.
She had been given a week's restriction on Internet access. It had started as a bad performance review at work -- too many sick days and early punch-outs. Nina was online constantly. It was only after a week with a guilty conscience that she was able to find the resolve to tell him about it. She had felt like a schoolgirl having to bring home a bad report card. Dan wanted her to take a few days away from her online life, try to reevaluate her priorities. The following day he had checked, and her browser betrayed the fact that she had disobeyed him. She was certain she was going to experience her second adult spanking, but he merely unplugged and removed her network cable and told her she would be offline for a week.
As it happened, he had to leave his car for repairs on Tuesday and prevailed upon her on Wednesday to drop him off at work on the way to her own job. It gave her an idea. She was itching to get back to her online world. She took him to work then, instead of heading downtown, turned around and came back home. She would have the day to herself, and then would pick him up later that afternoon. She couldn't use her computer, but she knew his computer was still connected just fine.
Once she had returned home, she went back to bed to catch a few hours of sleep. She had been up very late the previous night working on a new story she was writing while hoping Dan was a heavy sleeper. Late morning, she awoke, fixed herself a cup of coffee, then forged ahead on her day of being a very bad girl.
It felt a bit odd to be alone in his office; his sanctuary. It even smelled masculine ...leather chair...his cologne. Previously, she had looked in, and they had had a few brief conversations in the room. Although it had not been forbidden, out of respect, she did not enter the three rooms at that end of the house - his bedroom, the room adjacent, and the room in which she was making such an intrusion. She rolled his chair away from the desk carefully, and then stood trying to decide if she was really going to go through with her plan. I am way too old for this shit. Seated at the computer, she looked to see where to turn the damned thing on.
She absentmindedly touched the mouse, was surprised to hear a whir and chatter. The computer must have been in sleep mode. The screen came up on his desktop, and she saw an image that gave her a pang of jealousy. He has her picture as a backdrop? She found it difficult to believe that he still carried a torch for a woman who left him over two years ago. Okay, she's definitely a knockout. It was the first time she had seen a close-up. What was her name? ...Ann...and a doctor no less. The only picture she had seen of her was a photo on the mantle above the fireplace in the living room: The two of them on a beach somewhere ...The Perfect Couple.
His web browser was already running and minimized. Handy. She didn't have her bookmarks, but eventually managed to find where she wanted to go. For three days she had been cut off from the people she communicated with, and there were several messages waiting for her. She answered them, taking a delight in confessing her guilt ...she was disobeying her disciplinarian and would be in serious trouble if caught... there would be serious hand wringing as they imagined her breathtaking peril.
After spending some time on public message boards and then chatting for awhile, she went to her favorite story site. There were several new ones that looked good. The first was a long one - a bit too long. She wanted to download the rest so that she could read them later. Where am I supposed to put them? With her computer off the network, there was no way to send them to her hard drive; even if she emailed them to herself, she wouldn't be able to get to her Inbox, except from work, and she wanted to read them that evening. I need a floppy disk. She had some at work, but didn't even use them at home. She checked the desk drawers that were not locked, but no disks. She stood up, went to file cabinets. Locked. To her left was a bookcase - mostly books, the top shelf full of knickknacks and... she spotted it. Her tummy did little flip flops.
She took the small object down from the shelf gingerly, handling it delicately as if it might break, not as if it were solid as rock and she made of jelly. Its surface was cool and smooth to her graceful fingers but not polished; rectangular, just like Daddy's. The shape of the handle was different and she thought it might be a tiny bit thinner, lighter... but never to be taken lightly. She knew her Guardian had been thinking of her when he put this item up for a day it might be needed. It was so hard...like his cock? She patted the palm of her left hand with the flat of it, felt its sting -- behind her, a dreamy tingle that started left and right, moved down to meet in the middle, and the whole underside of her anatomy felt warm.
Her pulse raced; she did not understand how the object could have such power over her. It bid painful memories, but transparent; cobwebs drifting in the corners of her mind. She hefted its small weight in her hand and tried to imagine...turned it into a question ...did she really want a rediscovery? To know again its fiery kiss?
She placed the object exactly as she had found it and turned back to the computer. She was in a bit of a state and had forgotten about the floppies. Something had occurred to her earlier, and now she wanted to explore it. She opened up the History panel in Dan's browser. Let's just see what he's into. She reminded herself that she would need to clear her own history today, or she might just be up that proverbial creek without a... very funny. Dan had not been too busy lately - only a few links - but the name of one seemed familiar. Bingo. She clicked on it and quickly found herself looking at images of young women in untenable positions. She knew plenty of sites like it, but realized that she was logged onto a Member's section of one she had only heard of, not actually seen.
The written word had always affected her more strongly than a picture could, but the site offered movies in which she soon became absorbed. She enjoyed a typical one: bad girl gets red bottom, the end, thank you very much. Most looked about like that. Then, she saw one announced as spanking mixed with erotica. Don't see that too often. A few deft clicks of the mouse and very delicious sights were to be seen, accompanied by the music of slap, moan, and heavy breathing. This is kinky stuff of which I most certainly approve. First, she had to agree that masturbation does go very nicely with spanking ...or watching a spanking for that matter. She sat back in her chair, unsnapped her jeans and pulled down the zipper, her hand disappearing under the waistband of her panties. The sordid tale continued... between spanks ...anal exposure...penetration. Yes! Something called "labia discipline" - a tiny leather paddle applied just the way a girl likes it. She was rocking in her chair now, adding her own breath to the music of the room ...lost in the moment, a powerful wave forming on the horizon. "Nina?"
Her entire body convulsed, but she wasn't having an orgasm; instead, in seemingly one frantic motion she zipped up, buttoned, and grabbed desperately for the mouse that might stop the lurid scenes and sounds emanating from the machine that was betraying her.
She stared down at the keyboard in front of her, almost could not bring herself to turn her head to the left to face him. When she did, he only stood there, speechless. Her emotions were a volcano. The look in his eyes barely registered on her radar but, still, she thought that look might haunt her forever.
"Do you like to sneak up on girls?!" she shouted at him as she rose defiantly. She had left the door wide open. She thought that he had flinched. He still did not move, still did not speak. Her arms reflexively crossed over her chest, she looked away, her countenance controlled, yet unable to conceal her pain and shame. Both her mind and heart were racing at the speed of light. The theory is that, approaching such a speed, time slows until it stops; things become more massive until they are infinitely heavy. She wasn't good at science.
He finally moved, came towards her, reached for her arm.
"Don't touch me!" She pulled away, violently. Her lip quivered as she sneered at him. He stood, seemingly stunned. "I'm leaving," her eyes hot. "Don't you dare try to stop me," her voice cold.
She pushed around him. He let her go.
She wrenched the key in the ignition, the car screamed as she stepped hard on the accelerator. She backed out of the driveway too fast, then slammed on the breaks as she hit the street. She couldn't see clearly. After wiping at her eyes, she sped off down Clairmont Avenue.
* * * * * * *
I must have been out of my fucking mind! You STUPID bitch! How on earth did you think this was going to work? A GUARDIAN!? Give me a break! Who the fuck does he think he is? Who the fuck does he think I am? His little project? Poor little stupid Nina who can't get her fucking act together? She reached over, fumbled through her purse, cursed, managed to find some Kleenex. She drove fast, one hand on the wheel, her car following habits on familiar streets. It found the onramp to Tollway 470 East, and as she sped up its incline, she decided that it was over. It was just a mistake, that's all. Life without hope, she drove without purpose. She looked only forward, saw nothing.
As she approached the tollbooth, she again fumbled in her purse, handed money to the attendant without looking ...no smiles for anyone today. The tollway was a new addition, skirting the city to the east, and then turning north on its way to the new international airport. It bore very little traffic on a Wednesday afternoon, and her small car was a solitary missile as it veered left, the edge of the Great Plains then on her right ...a thousand miles of flat reflected in her expression. Her anger had dissipated the moment she had decided to move out. Where she was going, she wasn't sure.
Ahead of her were miles of mostly, as yet, undeveloped land. As she made her escape, she saw fields dotting the landscape, but not that their green had yet to be robbed by the harsh summer. Where the great mountains fell, horses galloped down a last ripple in the land, but she did not wonder at where they were going. She saw shafts of sunlight through fluffy scattered clouds, but they did not shine for her.
Denver International Airport sits isolated to the northeast of the city. She had no plan yet, but it occurred to her that she could just fly away, start over someplace else. She had her credit cards ...she could buy all new things, find a job, or just crawl in a hole somewhere. Did it really matter? Hadn't she been on the road to failure all of her life? Why not take a plane this time? Where she landed she would find the heartache there. Some people were not meant to be happy; she was one of those people.
Instead, she turned west on I-70 towards the city, traffic thickening. Though nestled against the foothills, Denver is, for the most part, fairly flat. It was a crystal day, and she had a clear view of the Rockies in the distance. Perhaps an atmospheric condition, she found it a mystery how, on some days, the mountains looked much smaller - and more distant, less distinct - and on other days seemed as if to tower before you - threatening you with their inconceivable mass. She wasn't sure which was more the illusion. That day they confronted her - seemed insurmountable.
The downtown area loomed ahead, a relatively small cluster of skyscrapers erupting from the high plains. She decided to drive by her old apartment building and see if anything was available. The traffic quickly became more snarled, and it was over a half-hour before she made her way to the busy neighborhood she lived on only last March. There was no sense quitting her job, and living so close to work again would mean no more miserable commute. She would be free again. She could have breakfast, lunch, and dinner at Jackson's Tavern if she wanted. She saw the little market where she used to shop and the bakery where she often had her morning muffin. On the corner, the cleaners where she paid way too much to have her clothes washed and pressed and, two doors down, the art supply store where she purchased the tools of a craft to carry her dreams. She drove by the apartment complex without stopping. Parking's going to be a pain. She decided she would come back later.
Caught in the undulations of the midtown rush, she made countless starts and stops, but had the infinite patience of a traveler without a destination. All around her were people...busy...with purpose...with direction. She was a little girl, lost. She didn't care.
By about five in the afternoon, she had crossed the city to the north and was climbing up the first long grade into mountains that stretched for hundreds of miles to the west, and north to south from Canada to Mexico, dividing a continent. As she crested the grade's peak, a new tier of massive ice capped mountains in the near distance emerged from the horizon like a planet might rise to its moon. It took her breath away; she felt as if she might somehow reach out and touch their majesty, but a turn in the road and they were gone, hidden by land and tree.
Several minutes later, she turned off the Interstate and followed smaller mountain highways going south, twisting through pine-covered hills, cloistered, solid, secure. As her tiny car rose and fell with the tortured lay of the land, Nina's emotions began to return. The timeless sense of peace around her was only heightened after her trip through the noisy city. Nature enveloped her in its beauty, and it was impossible not to be enchanted. She came to a large valley and the highway flattened. She entered the land of Red Rocks - towering sandstone monoliths jutting hundreds of feet into the air, ships of gods floating on foregone seas where continents collided eons ago. Dinosaurs were buried here. Dwarfed by ancient spirits, her path led in and around stones strewn by titans, a million rust-colored shapes, sculpted by the wind, the sun, and the rain. This is where time lived.
She had never seen a photograph that could capture the color of the red set against mountain-blue skies and valleys of green brush and golden grasses. The land began to rise, and the scenery changed as she followed V-shaped canyons lined with fir, spruce, and pine. A twisted, steep-and-plunging path led her deeper into the foothills. A one-lane byway took a steep dip left and deposited her at the outskirts of a little mountain town. She turned onto a highway that served as the town's center of business. It could take her further up into the mountains in one direction, or back to the city in the other. Her stomach growled at her, and she stopped at a small bakery-cafe along the road.
"Ma'am, you forgot your change." She had ordered a muffin and iced tea from a pimply kid behind the counter.
"Thank you." She looked at him with candid eyes and gave him her warmest smile. He had reddish curls tucked behind large white ears, and his shirt was just a bit too small on his painfully slender frame. She saw in his look back - another survivor.
There were two small tables inside; one brightly lit from sun streaming through a window, one next to it in the gloom. She decided to dine outside.
It was a pretty town - a short row of rustic buildings along a narrow ravine, land rising on both sides of the road to which it clung. Evergreens were its backdrop, and Nina smelled the tangy scent of pine. From across the road, she heard the rush of water, one of countless streams created by the runoff from billions of tons of ice melting thousands of feet higher in the mountains. Clouds soared overhead and allowed an uncertain light that could not decide whether it was afternoon or evening.
She sat on the little patio under an umbrella of red and green. She ate her muffin, drank her tea, drew his face in her mind. He had written, telling her he wanted a "daughter" - someone to take care of. Intellectually, she didn't understand how such a strange offer should apply to her - didn't even trust it. Emotionally, it was exactly what she needed. Her heart had been more demanding than her mind; she wondered if she should have listened to her head.
Then there was her face. Saint Ann. Nina's yardstick. His forbidden flame. At least he doesn't go on and on about her. Nina did not know much - just that she was a pediatrician ...that she loved children. Nina barely made it through high school ... bright future. Ann had lustrous thick dark hair ... limp dishwater blonde. The Doctor had a perfectly bright confident smile ... Nina, the shy little lamb. She saw Ann on a beach, all curves ... the girl with the body like a boy ... the goddess with a golden tan. Nina had never even seen the ocean, figured an hour on the sand and her chalk-white behind would make quite a dish... boiled lobster.
Was there any point in going back to him? She didn't know, but she couldn't get him out of her mind. Those eyes. They were sad but gave her hope. Now, she would see that look of disappointment in them forever. Her heart dropped into her stomach... what he had seen. Her shoulders quivered and a sob of anguish escaped from deep within.
"Ma'am? Are you okay?" It was the kid who had poured her tea, sounding distressed by her condition but unsure of his intrusion.
She quickly grabbed another tissue from her purse, dried her face, and assured him she was fine. Once composed, she tried to reassure him again with a smile. He looked about sixteen, but his eyes were older. Gathering her purse and what remained of her drink, she stood and approached him, placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "You're very sweet...I'll be okay."
She drove east out of the mountains and soon was heading south again down Santa Fe Drive, a small highway that paralleled her familiar Light Rail route. She was going home to face the music...redemption. She had made a contract that she would thereby honor. Her Guardian would do whatever he felt needed to be done.
It was nearing six o'clock. Early summer, and at that latitude, well over two hours of daylight remained. More weather was forming to the west; the sun, filtered by the mist, hung over the mountains like a giant scarlet moon. Lit by a blood red sky, she passed the same industries, housing tracts, and seedy commerce that had entertained her ride home that nervous April night almost two months ago. It didn't look any cheerier in the light ...and she was in a lot more trouble this time.