Brian’s Day at the Pool

Brian was sitting in the kitchen, sweating in the most noxious heat wave of the twentieth century.

As he sat perched on the edge of the vinyl seat in just his white jockey shorts he looked lustfully out the window at their cool, blue, swimming pool.

Brian’s mother had warned him adamantly to stay out of the pool unless she, or his father were home.

Brian wasn’t the best swimmer in the world, but he could certainly keep from drowning.

Brian decided he’d read by poolside and he went out the back door and stepped into the small alcove where they had an outdoor shower.

Brian let the jockeys fall to his ankles and stepped out of them then took his bathing suit off a hook, putting it on quickly.

Brian was reading in the sweltering sun and tried an experiment.

He dragged the chaise lounge over to the stairs, which descended into the pool, and placed the front legs on the bottom step so he could sit with he legs in the water while he read.

Brian shifted a little when he was turning the page of his book this caused the front legs of the lounge to move forward and slip off the step they were perched on.

The wheels at the back of the chair started to roll forward and when Brian jumped off to try to stop his momentum the whole thing slid into the cool water.

With a few expletives, Brian laid his book in the sun to dry out and heaved the lounge out of the water dumping copious amounts of water at the pool’s edge in the process.

“What the hell,” Brian thought as he once again jumped into the pool.

Brian figured he was wet already and as long as he got out of the pool before his mother came home he’d be safe.

Brian liked to swim underwater and would traverse the pool along the floor so he began swimming from one end of the pool to the other and back.

Unfortunately for him, sound doesn’t travel very well underwater.

Brian’s mother was just pulling into the driveway as he made another trip to the far end of the pool under water, he surfaced and after taking a breath submerged for the return trip to the shallow end.

During this leg of his journey his mother, her coworker, and their secretary had opened the gate and walked into the pool area, Brian’s mother decided to show the other women their new house during their lunch break.

Brian emerged with a loud splash and as he pushed the hair out of his face and rubbed the chlorinated water out of his eyes the first thing Brian saw was three pairs of knees.

Probably not a good thing.

He didn’t recognize the two young looking knees but the middle set of knees looked vaguely familiar.

Rubbing the chlorine haze out of his eyes Brian moved his gaze from the older knees upwards and saw the owner of the knees had her hands perched on her waist.

No, this was not a good thing.

Although he was staring right up at the owner of the middle set of knees he had to squint as she was standing right in the sun.

Then Brian saw the expression on his mother’s face.

This was definitely a bad thing.

“Get out of the pool.”

“Mom, why are you home?”

Brian’s mother repeated herself in the quiet, deliberate voice that mothers use when you’re in so much trouble that it’s beyond the need for shouting.

“Get out of the pool now.”

Brian got out of the pool and the secretary they shared at the travel agency, Blanca.

Tina, like his mother was wearing a skirt, short yet professional.

Blanca was wearing a pair of cut-off jeans so small that many people would categorize it as a belt, and her yellow shirt came to a hair’s breadth of the top of the pants, giving everyone a glimpse of her flat, perfectly tan stomach whenever she moved.

Tina was in her late twenties, about ten years younger than Brian’s mother, and had her hair cut very short for the summer, whereas Blanca was twenty, looked eighteen, and had her think black hair pulled into a ponytail.

Brain’s mother was scolding him about going into the pool when he was alone and about disobeying her.

Every time Brian’s gaze would drift towards one of the other two women present his mother would clap her hands once, loudly, to regain his attention.

As the lecture continued Blanca saw the wet book lying by pool side and walked over to it, she felt uncomfortable standing there as her boss scolded Brian so she looked for any distraction she could find, and the book seemed as good as any other.

Blanca bent over to retrieve the book and when she did Brian became entranced at the twin crescents of her bottom cheeks peeking out from her shorts.

Unfortunately for Brian, Blanca’s little show occurred at the same time that his mother asked him a question.

“Well did you?” Brain’s mother repeated impatiently.

The sharpness of her tone got the attention of everyone on the patio.

Brain stammered a little, and because he hadn’t any idea of what she had said he just explained about the book and the chair slipping since he was half wet he decided to get totally wet before getting out, and anyway it was such a hot day and…

“Stop.” Brain’s mother used her quiet voice again.

“It’s bad enough that you were disobedient, but don’t try lying about it, you know I don’t tolerate lying.

I may have believed this story of yours, but the chair is now dry, and the patio is almost dry, so this happened a while ago, your tale makes it seem like it just happened as we got here.

You know that I would have punished you for swimming without permission, but you know the punishment for lying don’t you?”

“But mom” Brian stared in panic. She wouldn’t do it here and now? Would she?

“No there are no buts. I can’t and won’t accept it” Yes I would, and I am going to!

Brian’s mother took him by the arm and sat on one of the picnic benches along the side of the pool.

She then placed him over her knee

Brian was small  and his mother was tall and muscular so she had no problems handling her squirming, son as he tried to avoid the maternal wrath which he had incurred.

Brian’s mother had blonde hair, was about 5’11” and had skied professionally in Europe in the 1970’s.

With Blanca and Tina watching, Brian’s mother scolded him as her open palm slapped his  bottom.

Brian was sobbing soon after the spanking started, partly because Tina and Blanca were watching and partly because these spanks on his cold, wet bottom hurt more than any spanking he’d received before.

Tina noticed that the splashing and other noises coming from the pools of the surrounding houses had stopped, as the whole neighborhood was now listening to Brian’s spanking.

Tina looked around the yard and thought that Brian was lucky that the huge stockade fence that surrounded the backyard blocked it from prying eyes.

Tina assumed correctly that the neighbors were quietly approaching the fence to find a suitable knothole or gap in the fence that would allow them to see what was happening in Brain’s backyard.

Both Blanca and Tina watched the boy lying across his mother’s knees, waving his arms and kicking his legs so it appeared he was trying to swim off her lap.

Whenever Brian’s mother would get upset, like now, her accent would get very think, so between the accent, the loud “smack” of the spanks, and Brian’s yelps, Tina and Blanca had trouble hearing what she was telling her son.

Although his mother’s hand could cover most of Brian’s bottom, she preferred the “alternating cheek” method.

First one cheek, then the other, and while the spanking started at a moderate pace, as her ire increased, so did the frequency of her open palm landing on the Brian’s upturned posterior.

After thirty spanks or so, and he was almost crying hysterically, his mother delivered one last barrage crossing both cheeks so the peaks were the focus of her attention.

“Now go shower off and get into the house.

You’re grounded for two weeks with No pool.

Is that understood?”

Rather than answer his mother’s pretty much rhetorical question Brian just ran past the two women, pushing between them, and into the shower stall.

The high pitched squeal of the faucet signaled the beginning of the cascade of cold water which did not do much to take the sting out of his flaming posterior.