Birches, Cowgirls & Angels

Chapter Four-1

Chapter Four

Tempting Teases

Midge sat in the diner across from the handsome Hank Devlin amazed by the unruly lock of hair, which would fall in his face as though he combed it that way. She couldn’t believe her luck to be dating this charming brute.

She’d fixed herself especially pretty for their date—a little more blush, a little more lipstick than she usually wore, and there was definitely a twinkle in her perky brown eyes. Though she was clearly nervous around Hank—especially after the spanking—he put her at ease with his easygoing style. A beer or two helped. In fact, Midge could become quite a chatterbox with a little liquor in her system.

For nearly an hour while they ate their burgers, the conversation ambled along, picking up where it had left off from their early morning conversations. Midge could tell that there was something new happening between them and her curiosity wouldn’t be satisfied unless she asked the question that had been burning in her mind since the incident in the stables, “You’d really use your leather belt on a woman’s behind if they pissed you off?” She blurted the question as though she were asking the time of day.

“Yes, I would. And I’d use a paddle, or a hairbrush, or a cane—even a good switch.”

Her body reacted with a gentle shimmy that jiggled her breasts in such a lovely way that Hank couldn’t help but notice. After seeing her in nothing but plain tee shirts, Midge looked pretty tempting in her low cut blouse with her cleavage rising toward the top.

“Sounds as though you have a lot of experience?” she asked.

“Some.”

“And where does a young guy like you get experience punishing women?” she wondered. Strange—that all this was spilling out. The questions just kept appearing in her head, and the stern-looking cowboy across from her kept answering them as though they could go on all day.

“Some of it comes naturally. I was aware—though I never saw anything—that my father sometimes disciplined my mother. Nothing was ever said, of course, but I walked out to the shed at the back of our property one evening and heard quite a ruckus going on… a little war of words to start, and then the sound of a strap. Scared me to death.”

“How old were you?”

“About fourteen. Old enough to put a lot of hints together into the true picture of my parents’ relationship.”

“And that was?”

“She was clearly submissive and he ruled the show. He laid down the law; she obeyed. It was as simple as that.”

Midge’s mind was going a mile a minute, though she had no idea what to say.

“It might seem like an antiquated sort of relationship for 70’s and 80’s when I grew up, but on the other hand, I’ve never seen two people who were happier than my parents. They were in love; and however they managed to create their odd arrangement—the punishment included—it worked. It still does.”

“You think he punished her all the time?”

“Probably not too often—she’s a very compliant woman. I only know of that one time for certain, but there were a few unexplained occasions that make more sense now.”

“Like what?”

“Humm,” he thought a moment. “A few tears… a few times my father whispered in her ear… sometimes it was just the look on both their faces. They had an understanding.”

“And that’s the kind of relationship you want?” Midge asked. Her whole body trembled now, just as she had in the stable—so much, she knew Hank noticed.

“If I can have it, yes,” he replied. “It may not suit every man’s disposition, but it does mine.”

“I guess you’ve tried it then?”

He nodded.

Oh! If she could only peer into his brain and pluck out scenes from his past—his girlfriends, the arguments, the spankings, the discipline. She wanted to know everything, like what they fought about, why he used a paddle, and what it looked like to be caned—would it leave welts? Was it true you couldn’t sit down for a week? She could extrapolate from the brief session at the stables, but that was just her imagination and it wasn’t enough. Who were these women? What did they look like? How did he dominate them? More to the point, how would he dominate her? What words would he use? What would it feel like to have him truly angry with her? And most of all, how would it feel to have her ass naked, poised to be punished, Hank’s arm swinging a belt or paddle to hit dead-center on her ass cheeks?

Suddenly, there were two plates of strawberry shortcake in front of them and the conversation died. It was just as well, Midge wasn’t sure she could take more input—her body was confusingly on fire and her head starting to pound. She didn’t know what the hell was going on, and she made a desperate attempt to flush her brain of the pictures that were coming to life inside it.

Their evening continued, but not the conversation about the spanking and dominating women. Midge purposely kept it to safer subjects.

After the diner, they walked through town. There wasn’t much to do in White Birch on any evening; but this being a warm summer; it felt comfortable being outside. Though she still was nervous, wondering what she would do if he asked her out again, she could breathe a little easier without four walls trying close in on her.

Midge had only to wait until Hank walked her to her door at ten to find the answer. “How about Saturday night?” he asked.

“Sure,” she didn’t even hesitate.

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, his hand grazing hers affectionately, and she thought her whole body might fire orgasmically. Hurriedly inserting her key in the lock, she opened the door, aware that Hank was still staring at her. Turning around, she waved at him, flashed him a sexy grin, and then closed him out.

Oh, my! She heaved a great big sigh and leaned against the door trying to let herself calm. “What am I doing?” she whispered aloud to no one but herself.

***

Friday morning, eight o’clock, the town hall was bustling with activity. Usually there was nothing going on; but today the investors and partners in Birch Valley Stables were meeting for a serious discussion. Jake, Tommy Halvorson, Jed Stallings and Clinton Dawson. Amanda Plover was expected at eight-thirty. Business should be over by nine, the four back to work before nine-thirty. Fact was, their conference took just five minutes, and for the rest of the time until Amanda showed, the four men jawed about the pennant race and the upcoming pro football season. When the lovely Ms. Plover walked in the door at eight o’clock sharp, they all stood up to graciously shake her hand. After all, they were perfect gentlemen—in an Old West sort of cowboy way.

“Amanda, have a seat,” Jed motioned the young woman to a chair at the head of the table, while the four returned to their seats on either side. They’d expected her normal attire, blue jeans and tee shirt, but the lovely blonde graced them with her presence, wearing a short white skirt and a snug pink, silk tee shirt that hugged her breasts like skin. Her face was blushed with a trace of make-up, her lips with pink, and her blonde hair, normally tied back into her saucy ponytail, had been brushed out so it fell to her shoulders in satiny waves.

Only Jake Colton would wonder if there was some manipulative purpose behind her sexy attire. His fellow investors—all good friends—were a good deal older than either Amanda or himself, and found her presence so stunning and appreciated that it was difficult to take their eyes from her.

“Gentleman, nice to see you,” she addressed them pleasantly. She carried a business portfolio in her arms from which she immediately withdrew five report folders. Handing one to each man, and keeping the last for herself, she sat down and smiled confidently. “I think these are the figures you’ve been wanting to see.”

Jake quickly perused the document, then closed the cover, adjusted himself in his seat, and went straight to the point. The others were still eyeing the lovely Amanda.

“This is all well and good, Amanda,” Jake observed, “but it’s speculative.”

“Yes, and based on what I think is a very conservative forecast of the stable’s potential,” she added.

Jake chuckled under his breath, “I commend you for your optimism. It’s our hope that the stables perform as well as you predict. But…”

“I can’t see this going any other way, gentlemen,” Amanda interjected with a well-practiced firmness in her voice. Though they retained their gentle feminine quality, her blue eyes were full of fire.

She’s holding back, Jake thought to himself. And nervous as hell.

“The changes I’ve made over the last two months are already showing…” she rattled on while, Jed Stallings, the oldest of the quartet, sat back looking almost bored with the meeting. He drummed the table with his fingers and finally hearing enough turned in his seat…

“The fact is, Ms. Plover, you’ve mismanaged the stables assets,” he said in a matter-of-fact monotone that hit the air space between with a deflating thud. “You’ve had a tough time paying the note, and there are a bunch of old plugs in your stable.”

“Wait a minute. You haven’t bothered to look at this at all.” She tried maintaining a professional attitude, but she was quickly losing her composure.

“Amanda, we’ve decided to relieve you of your duties as stable manager,” Jake went on. “I’m talking to Hank Devlin about that job. We need to get this business making money.”

“You can’t do that! It is my stables.”

Ignoring her, Jake continued, “I’m going to oversee Hank as general manager. If you’d like, you can continue as a trainer and certainly do the accounting. But…”

“But you’re taking over all the business decisions,” she stated the obvious.

“And the buying and selling. This is business—not personal.”

Her face was flushed and her eyes almost in tears—though she was too proud to let even one drop rain down her cheek.

“And I suppose I have no vote?”

“We constitute a majority,” Jake reminded her.

“And your decision was unanimous?” She looked from one poker face to the next.

“Yes, it was,” he said, while the others confirmed the fact with the expressions on their faces.

“So, I train horses,” she stated flatly.

“It’s what you do best,” Jake replied.

“Your decision is final,” she stated.

“Yes, it is.”

The silence in the town hall was almost deafening, the wait a nervous one as all eyes continued focusing on Amanda. While they stared blankly at her, she gathered herself. She’d been through worse—though she couldn’t remember when—but she was certainly too tough to be beaten by this crowd. Taking a deep breath, she finally said in the steeliest voice she could manage, “Well, then, gentlemen, I’m sure you have things to do, and so do I.”

Of course, they did, and glad to be let off the hook, Jeb, Tommy and Clinton, scuffed their chairs on the old wooden floor as they rose, and then silently walked from the room.

Stacking her reports in a neat pile, Amanda looked up to see that Jake hadn’t moved. “What are you staying here for?” she snapped.

“I thought we might talk…”

“Oh, so you can rub this in my face, Jake Colton. Well, I’m afraid I’m not going to give you the opportunity to gloat.” She leapt from her chair, anger swelling heatedly from her breast. Jake rose too, brusquely reaching for her hand.

“Would you stop a moment, Amanda, there’s more I need to say.”

She shook him off. “And what could that possibly be? Seems to me you’ve said enough.”

“The three were ready to turn you out altogether. I suggested we try this first, and they agreed—reluctantly.”

“Oh,” her face twisted into a sarcastic snarl, “so you rescued me?”

“I kept your job intact.”

“Yeah, right, you kept my job intact,” she snarled with her temper rising to the surface. “You don’t know how much I hate you,” she said. Her mind was suddenly flooded with vindictive thoughts. “If you think I’m going to let you run things, you’re sadly mistaken. There are other solutions and I will find one that suits me—because this one you’ve stuffed down my throat doesn’t. I’m not giving up control of Birch Valley Stables and you can tell the old farts I said so.”

“Oh?”

“No.”

Jake remained calm. He’d seen women fly off the handle before, only to regret what they said once they calmed down. He knew she was hurt, and he didn’t want a scene, and he certainly didn’t want to rile her more. “I’d suggest you sleep on it, Amanda. You do something rash, you might regret it.”

“Really? You must think I’m a complete idiot.”

“No, I don’t. I just don’t want you to stick your neck out, only to have it chopped off. You don’t really have much bargaining power here.”

“You patronizing ass!” she spit.