Going Home Part 2

I told her about the two packs of cards and my reasons for wanting them so badly.

She laughed. I told her how I felt afterward.

She smiled.

“Perhaps it would have been better if I had caught you.

A sore bottom is a lot better than all that soul-searching you went through”

Yes. It would have been.

The topic of conversation changed, but at every opportunity, I bought it back to the pack of cards and The Avengers.

Looking at Maureen (I had found out she *did* have a first name after all,) bought back funny, familiar, forgotten feelings.

That statement is not quite right.

Some feelings are never forgotten and sometimes are not all that funny.

She certainly was attractive and with thirty-odd years more experience behind me, I recognized the signs of mutual attraction.

Once more I found an excuse to mention, “The Incident”.

She rose from her chair with an air of determination.

“One way to sort this out” she said and walked out of the room.

I heard cupboard doors opening and shutting, the sounds of cardboard boxes falling from precarious perches.

Ten minutes later she returned. She was carrying John from the Avengers.

She stood behind the sofa and said,

“Right, let’s be having you. Over here please.”

I looked at her with what I hoped was purely a look of amazement, but which I suspected was tinged with other feelings. Funny, familiar, feelings.

“You are not serious”, I said with a lack of conviction that even failed to convince me.

“Do I look as though I am not serious.

Over here Now.”

I made the pretense of walking to the assigned spot under protest.

“Bend over the back of the sofa.

PalmS of your hands flat on the seats.”

I bent over as instructed – or rather, ordered.

 This way saves a lot of time and bother. Now let’s get on with it shall we?”

Whack!

The first stroke landed squarely across the center of my bottom. I did not have too much time to think as the second and third landed very shortly afterward.

“Steal from my shop…..”
Whack!
“…..would you…”
Whack!

The fourth stroke was a little slower, she was taken care to select the right spot!

Whack!
“Maybe next time…..”
Whack!
‘……You will think twice…..”
Whack!

‘…Young man. Get up please and make yourself respectable.”

Thirty years after “The Incident” I received my just desserts. She laid it on really hard, but I didn’t cry.

I looked at Maureen and saw a smile spread across her face.

“Is that a pack of cards in your pocket or are you pleased at what happened?”

I returned the smile. “What do you think?” I asked.

She put her arms around my kneck and said,

“I think that you are a very naughty boy, 

I could not help but agree with her philosophy.

At this stage I would like to thank the 1967 Cardiff City soccer team, without whose help this would never have been possible.

You may not have scored too many times – but I did!