To say that Tom was upset was an understatement. Maureen knew he was angry because he had no look on his face at all. He just stared straight forward while he drove. After five years of marriage, she knew that when he was visibly angry that was one thing, but when the anger didn't show...

She sat in the passenger seat of the car, turned slightly away from him. Their lovely romantic evening was in tatters. She tried to tell herself that his stupid boorish attitude was to blame, but deep down she knew she brought it on.

Tom had made reservations at a nice Italian restaurant for that evening. At 6:30, he called from his car.

"Darling, I had to stay a little late at the office, but I'm on my way -"

She interrupted him, "Honey, why are you on the phone when you're driving? You know that's unsafe."

He sighed, "I have a headset on and I'm waiting at a red light! Now, I think when I get home, you should just come out to the car and we'll go straight to dinner. Ok?"

"Alright. See you soon. Now hang up and drive!" She tried to make it sound like a joke, but she could tell from his reply that it didn't go over well.

"Yes, dear." The phone clicked and he was gone.

She hated when he said that - like she was a nagging wife. Didn't he realize that she just cared and wanted him to be safe? She loved him very much. If there was just one thing she could fix about him it would be for him to be a better driver. He had a bit of a lead foot, and it made her nervous sometimes. She shook her head, put the phone down and hurried to get ready.

A few minutes later, Tom arrived. He had on his usual suit and tie. He called back to Maureen from the front of the house to let her know he had arrived. She was just finishing up her makeup and said she would be right there.

Ten minutes later, while Tom stood cooling his heels, she came out. She looked beautiful, but when she saw Tom, she frowned and said, "Is that how you went to work this morning? That tie doesn't go with that jacket at all!"

Tom closed his eyes and sighed and said, "Alright, I'll change it." He ran to the back room. He was gone only a minute before returning, his red tie exchanged for a cool blue one.

Maureen smiled and said, "That's better."

They went back to the car. Tom looked at the clock on the dashboard. Their reservation for five minutes ago, but it would take ten minutes to get to the restaurant. Surely they'd hold the reservation for a few minutes for them. Even so, he drove quickly. Maureen noticed.

"Watch your speed, darling," Maureen said, "you're making me nervous."

Tom looked over to Maureen, and sarcastically chided her, "You know, you're extra sexy when you're back-seat driving." As he was staring her down saying this, he managed to miss that the stoplight he was driving through had turned red.

Maureen, however, had not missed it. "Pay attention! You're going to get -" She was interrupted by the sound wail of a siren behind them and flashing lights. Her tone dropped as she finished her sentence, "a ticket."

Tom closed his eyes and pulled to the side of the road. The officer took his time approaching the car, finally knocking on Maureen's window and then asking Tom to pass over his license, registration and insurance. Tom did so without saying a word.

It took fifteen minutes for the cop to finish writing the ticket. He finally finished and sent them on their way again with a gratuitous "Have a nice evening." When they finally arrived at the restaurant, half an hour later, they learned that their table had already been given away.

Tom stormed back to the car, Maureen following closely on his heels. She asked him, "What's wrong?"

Tom stopped and turned, "What's wrong? You took forever to get ready, made me change my tie, so we left late, so I had to hurry, and then your back-seat driving got me a ticket, and we missed our reservation!" He opened his door, sat down and slammed the door shut.

Maureen's face flashed in anger. She got in the passenger side and snarled back, "Don't make this out to be my fault! You got a ticket because you're a lousy driver, plain and simple. Just get us home without killing us! I'm not hungry anyway!"

The color drained from his face. He slowly fetched the car key from his pocket, started the car and drove home, staring straight ahead at the road.

They arrived home and he parked the car in the garage. He got out, went inside and went straight to the den, grabbed his dog-eared copy of Sports Today and embedded himself in it.

Maureen went to the bedroom. She sat on the bed with her back against the headboard. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them and started to cry. How had this evening gone so horribly wrong?

She tried to replay the events of the evening back for herself. He knew he was running late and had called so that she would be ready when he arrived. Still, she wasn't ready, and then had complained about his tie and made him change. So they left late. He tried to get them there as quickly as he could, and she distracted him with her back-seat driving (which she knew he hated). And that led to him getting a stop-light ticket. That made them too late for their reservation.

She understood his frustration. In that moment, her mind flooded itself with guilt and she began crying anew. Her guilt mixed with her love for him while she cried. As she calmed down, her first thought was how she could make it up to him. She knew he was sulking in the den. She knew that he probably would stay up into the wee hours reading.

She decided to send him an e-mail. She fetched her tablet computer from the living room and wrote:

Darling, I feel heartsick that I have made you so angry. I know it drives you crazy when I tell you to drive better. I only do it because I love you and I care for you. I feel very guilty and I think that I would feel better if you punish me. I know then that I can ask you to forgive and we can put this behind us. If I am asleep, please wake me. I will understand. I love you very much.

She dabbed the tears away from her eyes and sent it.

--

It was 2 AM when Tom finally thought about going to bed. He hadn't really forgiven Maureen for the ruined evening, but he didn't really hold her responsible anymore. It was in the past, and dwelling on it wasn't going to do any good. Maybe he'd talk with her about the back seat driving again tomorrow.

He decided to check his e-mail before going to bed. He read his wife's sorrow and guilt and his heart melted. He didn't want to punish her. But he knew that if she felt guilty, then she'd want him to take the guilt away. And he knew how best to do it.

He stood and walked to the bedroom. He found Maureen asleep in bed, curled up on her side. The blankets on his side of the bed were turned down, and on his pillow, he saw that she had left their long-handled wooden bath brush for him. He walked over to his side, picked up the brush, then walked back to the side by her head. He reached down and kissed her on her forehead. She stirred a little and her lips made a little smile. He reached down and ran his fingers across her cheeks. She stirred and slowly opened her eyes. She looked at his face, and then down towards his feet.

"I'm sorry," she said simply.

"I know. Are you ready?"

She nodded and looked back into his eyes.

He took a step back and she sat up in the bed. She took the three pillows on the bed and arranged them in a pile, then kneeled directly behind the pillows and lay down on top of them so that the pillows rested under and lifted her hips, presenting it. He walked over to the side of the bed, hooked his two index fingers into the hem of her pajama bottoms and lowered them, exposing her for punishment. He stood next to her and placed the head of the brush on her left ass cheek, testing the distance. Then he raised the brush and brought it down hard on her left ass cheek. 

Her head shot upwards and she tightened her ass cheeks, a loud, "Aaaaaaaah!" escaping from her mouth. Almost immediately, a large pink spot the exact shape of the bath brush's oval head appeared on her ass where the brush had landed. He paused only a second before bringing the brush down hard on her right ass cheek. Again, the loud splat filled the room, followed shortly by her anguished cry, and then the appearance of a pink shadow of the brush on her right ass globe. He continued to rain down fiery punishment, spreading his swats all over the entire spankable part of her ass and upper thighs. After only a few seconds, she was crying incoherently.

Tom stopped spanking her and gave her a moment to calm down. He then reached over to the nightstand and took a couple of tissues from the box on the table and walked back to her front and dabbed her eyes. She took the tissues and blew her nose. He put his hands on her shoulders and urged her to stand up. He did and held her in his arms until she calmed down.

At last, she spoke, "I'm sorry. Tom."

He replied, "It's alright. I forgive you. I'd forgiven you even before I spanked you, you know."

"I know. But I feel better... somehow." She couldn't quite explain why being spanked until she cried made her feel less guilty. But it did.

"I know. Now, I'm a little tired. Let's go to bed and we can talk about the back-seat driving in the morning. Ok?

"Ok." She moved the pillows up to the head of the bed and they both crawled into bed. She curled up on her side with her head on his chest.