The Lucky Guy
by Jack Lennox

* * * * * * *

"I didn't know you smoked." I didn't know that she didn't smoke. Whichever the case, the cigarette dangling from her delicate fingers wasn't lit.

"I'm thinking of starting," she slurred. It seemed maybe the glass of wine set next to her on the bar wasn't her first that night. She had brought it with her -- just the girl next door dropping by uninvited on a Friday evening.

"I'd hate to see that... it's not a healthy habit," or so I'd heard -- news flash from the Surgeon General.

"How sweet of you to be concerned," she managed. I wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic, or not, but I detected a hint of the maudlin.

I was sitting on the couch facing her with the look of a character that had just discovered he was on an episode of the Twilight Zone. She was slouched on one of my barstools like a burlesque of some vamp in an old black and white movie. I knew her face but hadn't met the body.

"How much wine have you had, Bonnie?" She had just drained her glass in one long gulp and then leered at me catlike, as if I might be her evening's prey.

"Enough," she grunted. "Got anything harder?" She turned her head momentarily to look at the shelf lined with bottles behind her, but when she turned back her eyes seemed unable to focus on much of anything.

The small bar came with the place. I'm not much of a drinker, but the real estate person assured me it would add value to the townhouse. I figured it looked kind of sophisticated. To that point, I hadn't done any entertaining in the several months I had lived there. The young woman draped salaciously against its counter was providing all the entertainment I could handle. I really didn't know what to think.

I had seen my neighbor to the south on many occasions. We had met and were acquainted. I knew her as the friendly-but-businesslike grade school teacher and recent divorcee with guarded eyes. She was a pretty blonde who always wore her long hair in a ponytail, little makeup, and dressed conservatively in skirts or dresses for work or modestly in jeans at home. Driving, I'd spotted her out jogging; we'd exchanged pleasantries at the mailboxes; I'd petted the small dog she walked around the commons. After a homeowner's meeting, a species of local politics that I try to avoid like the plague, we engaged in more lengthy conversation. I would have described her as sensible.

You might wonder why a single guy like me hadn't tried to get to know her better. She was certainly attractive -- if fair, tall, and slender is a look that works for you. She was intelligent and educated -- desirable qualities, to be sure. If she had ever given out any clear signals that she might be interested, she would have had my undivided attention. As explanation, though, I must confess that I'm from the Darwin school of picking up women. Evolution is required, and the time for adaptation to occur. I can hunker down with the patience of an ice age waiting for more favorable climes. Hopefully, that should make it a little clearer why I sat there on the couch looking dumbfounded. Ms. Bonnie McGuire, ennobled schoolteacher, was dressed for sex and open for business. I'm no fashion designer, but the tiny black dress hugging her lithe frame looked more like lingerie. Except for the little strap around her neck from which it hung, her shoulders, back, and ribcage were bare. My eye was drawn to rather ample breasts made more conspicuous by their partial covering and her tenuous physique. It appeared that the makers had run out of material where the dress ended at her hips, and when she uncrossed her legs, I had to look away just to be polite. Oh yes, her legs. Sheathed in dark thigh-high stockings, they were long, sleek, and shapely, the five-inch heels contributing to their endlessness. With her long hair loose, mouth set in a blasé sneer and eyes feral, she did not look like a girl who had dropped by to borrow a cup of sugar.

"Got a light, handsome?"

Me? Handsome? Who said drinking too much was bad for you? She found her mouth with the smoke and it dangled there comically.

"No, Bonnie, I don't...and I'd rather you didn't smoke in here."

She pushed herself off the stool and walked precariously on heels over to the fireplace to her left. It was a chilly November evening, and I had a small fire going. She found a long match and after a few failed attempts at it, lit her cigarette. To my amazement, she then approached me and straddled my lap. She inhaled, then blew smoke in my face.

I squinted and tried to wave her permeant gift away from my eyes, nose, and throat, then grabbed her right wrist in my fist to extricate the little coffin nail from her fragile fingers. She relinquished it without a fight, and I held it off to my side as she sat there examining me d

ispassionately. Once the smoke cleared, I smelled wine and perfume, and the blood in my body was flowing more rapidly. Every cell seemed to know that we were sustaining a full frontal assault from one very hot woman.

"That's terribly impolite, my dear." I don't know... what do you say to someone who just acted like an ill-mannered brat, but is probably too fuddled to care?

"And just what do you think you're going to do about it?" she asked, her voice thick and halting.

"I have a mind to put you over my knee and give you a good sound spanking."

You have no idea how much I had always wanted to say that to a girl, and the situation made it so delightfully appropriate. She had pressed up against me even closer, the milky skin where her breasts were exposed practically in my face, the insides of her thighs against me where I was getting tighter and more uncomfortable. The thought of my hand making good hard love to her little bottom only made me more aroused. Her hot drunken breath smothered me, and when she kissed me aggressively, I gave in to her mouth. She tasted delicious.

I managed to disengage myself from that seductive kiss and gently maneuvered her off of me. I patted her on the head, told her I'd be right back, and leaving her seated on the couch went to toss her cigarette. In the kitchen, I stood at the sink wondering what to do. I knew there wasn't going to be any spanking, or any other intimate activities, for that matter. Even if she wasn't someone I knew and respected, I couldn't take advantage of her while she was drunk. I decided I would try to help her back over to her place.

When I returned from the kitchen she had fallen to her side and was fast asleep. I contemplated waking her up or just leaving her there, but she looked peaceful and, despite the fire, the room was a little cool. With one arm under her armpits, and one at the back of her knees, I picked her up, and carried her upstairs. I took her to the second bedroom, put her in bed, removed her shoes, and covered her with a blanket. She lay on her side snoring gently. From schoolteacher, to vamp, to innocent angel -- it was at that particular point I realized I really liked her.

* * * * * * *

It was well past midnight, and I was seated on the couch again, lost in thought. I sensed motion to my right and, turning, saw Bonnie, heels in hand, attempting to sneak out the front door.

"Bonnie," I said softly, hoping not to startle her.

She froze, then turned to look at me sheepishly. "I'd better just go, Jack. I am *so* sorry." Her voice was raw, and I saw the glisten on her cheek.

"Bonnie, please...come here, sit down." I patted the spot on the couch next to me.

She stood at the door for several moments in apparent deliberation. Reluctantly, she padded over and sat beside me where she seemed to study her knees while looking, what I can only describe as, disgusted with herself.

"This is very embarrassing, Jack," she said without looking up.

"Can you tell me what was going on?"

She turned her face to me. Her cheeks were damp, her mascara had run. "You don't need to be burdened with my baggage. I already owe you a huge apology."

"I'll accept your apology, but in return, I want you to forgive yourself... and unburden yourself... Deal?" I tried a reassuring smile.

"Okay," she smiled back at me, but her expression was still pained. She lowered her gaze to her knees again and thought awhile before speaking. "I guess I'm not adjusting so well to single life. I haven't dated much... but tonight I agreed to go out with someone... a friend of a friend. Anyway... it was pretty horrible. He was so rude... a real jerk... entertaining me with his 'hot for teacher' routine. The date was over in less than an hour, and I was home... in tears. I was feeling sorry for myself... and lonely. I started thinking... what a shame... there's a nice guy living right next door... maybe I should drop in on him and just say hi." She looked at me as if to gauge my reaction to that bit of news, but I didn't really know what to say. I took her hand and held it.

"I'm not really good at... that sort of thing... so I thought a little wine might make it easier. It actually took quite a lot of wine, and it gave me the bright idea to change out of the dress I wore on the date and into this... just my subtle way of getting you to notice me." She gave me a wry smile.

"You look very beautiful, Bonnie... but I would notice you no matter what you were wearing."

I saw a smile I hadn't seen before. She *was* beautiful. "Thank you, Jack. That's something I really needed to hear tonight... but, in a way, I ended up treating you like I got treated. I can't just use the wine as an excuse."

"It's not the same, though, is it?"

"Why not?"

"Because you're not a jerk," I squeezed her hand and smiled at her. "He made you cry. You just made me feel flattered."

We looked at each other for awhile. What I saw in her eyes was someone very special.

"Jack, I've already embarrassed myself once tonight."

I leaned over and kissed her spare gash of a mouth. She still smelled like wine and perfume, and she still tasted delicious. Soon, she was straddling me again, my hands gripping her narrow waist. We kissed again, first like kids exploring, then like long lost lovers. She finally pulled back, seriousness etched on her charming face.

"I was pretty bad, wasn't I?"

"You mean blowing smoke in my face and attacking me?" I grinned. "All considered, I'm surprised you remember."

"I wasn't thinking very clearly... not quite so drunk that I didn't know what I was doing."

"Do you remember what I told you I might do about it?" I had a suspicion that she did and her blush confirmed it.

"I guess falling asleep was lucky, huh?" She was biting her lip, and I thought it terribly sexy.

I cupped her cheek with my right hand and brushed my thumb across her mouth. There is a theory that evolution can occur in a sudden burst, an explosion of development in a short period of time, jump-started by environmental disasters which force the survivors to adapt rapidly.

"That may have just postponed the inevitable. The fact is, you *were* a bad girl tonight, and I think you need a spanking for it."

Bonnie's face was flushed, more evident in contrast to her pale complexion. I pulled her close, held her tight against me. We kissed again, our breathing and the sexual tension between us palpable. I told her I was going to put her over my knee. I guided her with my hands, but she seemed to know the position she was to assume. The hem of her little dress was already at her waist, but I folded it further up and out of the way. Her white cotton panties were scant, but covered the area where I was about to direct my focus. I could feel her skin smooth under the soft material of her underpants, the shape of her an exquisite revelation in the palm of my hand. She sighed. I wondered how to proceed. I had never spanked a woman before. I knew almost nothing of her desires. I began to gently slap her thinly covered bottom on the softest spots just above her thighs, caressing the same areas after every few spanks. I gradually increased their potency, intensifying the sting. As long as the sounds on her breath were still adverted with pleasure, her hips continued to rotate in sympathy, I would carefully build her fire.

"Are you starting to regret your behavior tonight, young lady?" I sincerely hoped she had not.

She looked back at me, and with a sparkle in her eye, stuck her tongue out.

It took a real effort to suppress a laugh. "Now you're in serious trouble, Missy."

She answered by raising her bottom and spreading her legs slightly. I peeled her panties down to her knees revealing her brightly pinkened flesh and glistening sex. My firm hand making its first contact with her bare skin, I raised the level of intensity another notch and without respite. She was soon writhing across my lap and with a voice more urgent. Where she had been pink became red, red became scarlet; where I'd spanked lightly I spanked hard, where hard I spanked harder. I knew the stinging on my palm was but a faint reflection of the burning on her soft seat, but I also sensed it was what she needed. Finally, she emitted a low moan and her body went momentarily stiff. I stopped, traced her cleft from behind with my fingers and quickly found the little button that started her violent spasms. She trapped my wrist between her clenched thighs, and I gently milked her until she lay limp over my knee.

She was in my arms again, and I asked her if she had ever been spanked before. She told me that she had not, but that it had always been her fantasy.

"I could never bring myself to ask for it," she confided. "You made my dreams come true tonight, Jack Monroe." She kissed this mug in several places, and I was thinking about dreams, as well.

"Do you mind being carried?" I asked her. I was climbing the stairs again. She was in my arms, but this time I wasn't going to the second bedroom.

"Not by you, I don't." She winked.

Some guys are just damn lucky.