Alexi slides into the back seat of the Uber and sighs heavily, the recurring vision still rolling over in his mind. 

I’m at the same diner, sitting in the same booth, staring into the piercing green eyes of the woman directly across from me. As I realize she’s pressing her leg against mine, she leans forward, rubbing the straw of her drink between her fingers, and says, ´I’m out of practice,’ then begins circling the straw around her lips.

Suddenly, she rises and leaves with a perfectly elegant, walk-away sashay. 

What were you feeling? asks the Shaman.

Suddenly, I’m on my knees, lifetimes of grief and shame pour out of me as drool, snot, and tears from every hole in my face—a minute passes, then I mutter through the hurt, “Like when mommy left. ”

Kneeling beside me, as he has so many times, Shaman Felipe says,’ We gotta grow through what we go through, or the lesson will repeat itself until we finally learn from it.   People come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. We never know when they will leave us, or what lesson they’ll teach us. Your healing grows with every fear you face and with every gift you share. I know you are ready.”

The Uber slows to a stop, and Alex steps out.  He types, “I am ready,” then presses ‘Send’. 

Alex is now X.

Jill is giddy with excitement as she picks up the bowl of freshly picked tomatoes and cucumbers from the oak kitchen table and moves to the sink, placing each piece of fresh produce from her garden on a paper towel.

Having acknowledged her search for sexual fulfillment since becoming widowed had become stuck, she decided on a new tack.  Whatever the cause, the past three years proved to be pretty unremarkable and decidedly unsatisfying. She had about given up. Good skills don’t always make for a good lover, but good lovers always have good skills.  But hope shows up with her friend Martha’s suggestion. 

She places the bowl in the sink and turns on the hot water spigot. Giggling, are we going to have a water fight? It’s crazy how connected I feel to this guy.  Yes, he has skills, but the way he reads me is like we’ve known each other for 10,000 years!  Men don’t guide me, I guide them! Where does this come from? I don’t know him, yet I know I trust him. How can I trust a man I’ve never seen?

As the water warms over her left hand, she looks back at the kitchen table and reminisces about the anniversary trip when Bill bargained with the Amish farmer for the oak kitchen table. She smiles.  Good memories don’t sting like they used to. Any remaining melancholy dissipates as she recalls, giggling, that there is a Pennsylvania town named Intercourse. Located between Blue Ball and Paradise, I think.

The Amish may seem simple, but they know a thing or two about carnal pleasure.  Bill used to claim that’s where he learned how to grab hair and spank.  Jill smiles as she reflectively reaches her right hand back to gather the hair in her fist at the bottom of her scalp, pulling up. Imagining Bill’s clasped hand, his voice saying, ‘Good girl.’

Bill had all the skills, but he could also read what I needed in the moment, whether I needed a shoulder to cry on, encouragement, or to massage my impulsivity. 

Aloud, she says, “And this guy X has got something going on.”

The vegetable bowl three-quarters full, Jill turns the spigot off, then places the bowl next to the opened gift box X had left for her on their last date.

“Ding”, her phone signals X’s arrival.

“Showtime!” Jill says, smiling.  She looks around to see that everything is in place, pulls the cushioned bench out from the kitchen table, and sits with the table behind her. She types “OK” and presses ‘Send’, and pulls the blindfold down over her eyes. 

The front door opens, then closes.

I know you love this for me, Billy Boy.  Jill quickly stands up and slides her thong down to her ankles, then blindly kicks them off, landing on the tiled floor somewhere she cannot see.  “Now it’s showtime!” she whispers as she hears the front door open. 

With X’s foot steps approaching down the long hallway, she nervously adjusts the blindfold again, straightens her posture, smooths her hands down her silky Baby Doll, then moves her fingers up to her wet pussy, spreading the lips so that X would have a good first impression. Well, second impression.

A moment later, the sound of X’s steps enters the kitchen, and his bag drops on the floor.  “Hello, Mrs. Robinson.  What ya got cookin’?”  

“A bowl of warm water?  You tell me!”

X picks up her thong off the floor and slides it into his back pocket, then checks Jill’s blindfold.  “Very nice,” he says. 

“I see you opened the box I left,” X says.

“Yes. Is that okay? There were no instructions.”

“You tell me, is it okay? Should you be disciplined?”

Jill remains silent.  How do I answer this? Yes. Maybe? Please? Jill smiles into the darkness of her blindfold.   

 “Something, perhaps, to talk about later,” He picks up the bowl of water and gift box as he sits on the kitchen floor in front of Jill. “We’ll start with your feet, and then go on from there. May I proceed?”

“Uh... yes. Sure,” Jill responds, trying to sound confident. My feet?

X kneels on the floor in front of Jill.  The sound of the bag’s zipper opening echoes across the ceramic tile. He pulls out two wash rags and a wrapped bar of soap.

Jill finds the swirling of soapy water and the dripping drops from the wrung washcloth curiously erotic, her anticipation level rising. Every sound, every scent, every touch is so magnified.  I swear this blindfold makes me cum harder!

 X takes hold of Jill’s left foot behind the ankle, wrapping it in the warm washcloth.   His gentle, confident cleansing strokes around her heel, ankle, and between each toe are not just sensuous and titillating; they feel ceremonial.

Jill feels her entire being melt as he then moves his thumbs up and down the arch in slow, mindful strokes.  “Ooohhh – this is really nice!” she says in a sultry tone.

He places the wet cloth into the bowl, picks up the dry cloth, and gently dries her cleaned foot. As X raises Jill’s fresh foot to rest on his right shoulder, the hem of her Baby Doll slides down to her hip on that side. Jill’s partially exposed pussy twinges at the barely perceptible change of temperature and shivers as X takes her right foot.   

X takes hold of her right foot and repeats the practice with the same ceremonial care, then places it on his left shoulder. With her Baby Doll hem fully gathered at her waist, Jill’s moist, glistening pussy is open for X’s shameless adoration.

X admires the view spread out in front of him. I’m coming for you next, oh sacred portal.

Jill, light-headed, leans back against the edge of the Amish table. Completely exposed and vulnerable, with both knees now bent and her feet resting on his shoulders, she says to herself, I should have worn a blindfold for all those gyno appointments.

X places each hand on top of her resting feet, assuring Jill that she is in good hands. Now relaxed and exposed, her knees slowly spread further apart like butterfly wings.   

X continues to admire the luscious lips splayed out in front of him.  His mouth waters. His cock is growing.

In unison, his hands slide up her calves, sending little pulses along their path.  He then pulses back down to her ankles.  He repeats the process, mindfully monitoring as the glistening of her pussy lips shimmers in the afternoon light. A single rivulet of precum dribbles down to her perineum, the taint between pussy and anus. 

Jill feels his hands move to her inner thighs, the faint touch of his fingernails slowly grazing inside her knee, then down toward her heated honey pot. She shifts her hips forward on the bench cushion, closer to X’s mouth. Instinctively, she reaches her hand out to hold his head, shamelessly offering her holy portal up for a wicked tongue lashing.

X leans in to mere centimeters from her swollen, hot pussy, and blows a soft, steady stream of air onto her wanton lips. X’s stiffening cock is bulging in his trousers.  There is nothing X loves more than cunnilingus. Fresh mango sloppy cunnilingus.

Jill whimpers again. She pulls his head toward her steamy box, but is met by X’s resistance. He blows a teasing puff of cool air into her wetness, then says, “Patience, my dear. Let’s move you up to a proper setting.”

Eagerly anticipating full oral attention on her pussy that she had enjoyed on their last date, Jill drops her feet from his shoulders. Her right foot catches the top of his turgid, protruding bulge in his trousers. 

“Whoa!” Jill said, giggling.  “Is that for me?”

X pauses before answering, “It’s because of you.”

“Can I touch?”

Jill impulsively reaches out, touches his shirt, and adeptly hooks her fingers down behind his belt with one hand, pressing her other hand to grope the grown girth through his trousers.

“You’re big!” Jill delights with a smile.

X swiftly grabs the wrist holding on to his belt line, displaying unequivocal dominance, while allowing her molesting hand to remain pressed against his bulging cock.

“Patience, young lady!”  X whispers as he firmly moves her wrist away from his beltline. “This seems a little impulsive? Feeling naughty? Or is this your way of seeking discipline?”

“I want to feel it!” Jill exclaims, still pressing her hand against his cock-filled trousers.

He releases his grip on her wrist. “Good things come to those who wait.  I’m asking again, Do you want discipline?”

Jill moves both hands to her lap, dropping her head.  How do I feel so vulnerable and trusting at the same time? This is precisely what Bill would say. A beat passes.  Jill sits up, lifting her head slightly to gaze with her blindfolded eyes toward X’s voice.  “Yes.  I want to be disciplined.”

“Very well. Would you prefer my belt, or my hand?”

Without speaking, Jill reaches out to X with both hands, her fingers fumbling until she feels the cool metal buckle.  She unlatches it and pulls the belt out of the loops around his waist.   Jill folds the belt in half, then, with two hands, reverently offers up her weapon of choice to X.

X holds the belt in one hand and guides her off the bench. The cold ceramic tile under her clean feet contrasts sharply with the growing hot wetness in her crotch.  She extends her hands out, palms up, in front of her, waiting for her discipline.

X smiles, then says, “Turn around and place your hands on the bench.”

Jill, quietly stunned, freezes. Oh!  I asked for this.  She turns around slowly and bends over, gripping the bench cushion with her fingers. Her ass is fully exposed to  X’s gaze.

“Very good,” X says.

X snaps the folded belt in his hands, intentionally loud and threatening. Jill flinches. The reverberation echoes through her body. 

“Pick a number between 1 and 10.”

Jill stutters, “Uh, uh… seven!”

“Seven! Very well,” X says. “You do want to be disciplined, don’t you?”

“I, I do. Yes,” she responds.

“Very well.  I want to hear you count after each smack, OK?”

“Yes,” Jill replies. 

X places his left hand on the small of her back, then seductively runs the belt up the inside of one thigh, nearly touching her pussy lips. He then winds up and slaps her right cheek smartly.

Jill contorts her shoulders and hips and shrieks, the echo reverberating throughout the kitchen.  A red strap mark appears. Her breath quickens with the sharp sting and burning of X’s handiwork.

“Count.”

“One,” she says breathlessly.

X rubs his palm with soothing strokes over the afflicted area. Jill marvels as the radiating burn spreads to her pussy. It had been too long since she had a good spanking.

X removes the discarded thong from his pocket. “I find discipline works best when if there’s less squealing?” X removes the thong from his pocket and lets it fall on the knuckles of her left hand. “Perhaps this will help.”

“Thank you,” Jill says, fumbling the item placed next to her hand.  With her fingers, she realizes it is her discarded thong and says to herself, Oh, you are good, sir! Jill slowly stuffs it into her mouth. X’s palm soothes the burning sting. She’s ready for the next blow.

X places his hand on Jill’s lower back and delivers the second blow, the belt catching both cheeks. 

Jill groans as she grinds down on her thong with her back teeth. The sting is sharper.  Jill’s breath quickens, sucking in and blowing air through her stuffed mouth

“Two!” Jill muffles through her thong. 

“Very good.” X slowly rubs his palms over the raised welts, giving Jill time to slow her breathing. "Are you ready for the next?"

Jill feels tears form in her eyes. She nods her head.

Whack. Jill moans, her knees buckle slightly.  She finds her breath, hard in through the nose, forcibly out through the obstructed mouth.   

“Three!” Jill says, cursing the intense burning and praying for X’s soothing palm strokes.  

“I’m checking in,” X says, answering her prayer with his gentle grazing of both cheeks.  “Are you OK?”

Jill nods.

“I see you nodding ‘Yes’, you’re OK.  Can I hear you say yes?”

“Yes.” She pushes her answer through her soaked thong.

Continuing his soothing strokes on her  bottom, “How many strokes have we done?’

“Three.”

“Very good.  How many more do we have?”

“Seven... I mean, four.  Four more.”

“Very good.  Do you want me to continue?”

“Yes – yes, please. I want you to finish,” she says, nodding emphatically.

“Very good.  Would you like them spaced out with a break in between? Or would you like to take the rest of your medicine rapid fire?” X asks.

“Rapid. Rapid fire,” she gets out.

“Very well. I need you to keep track and count so I can hear.  Do you understand me?” X says.

“Yes,” Jill nods. 

X stops his soothing graze of her bum cheeks, placing his hand at the small of Jill’s back.  Jill clenches her ass, already missing X’s gentle strokes, anticipating the next. 

Whack. “Four!”

Whack. “Five!”

Whack. “Six!”

Whack. “Sev-aaarrrggghhh-en!”

Jill buckles at the knees, her legs now shaking.  The blackness of her blindfold explodes into flashes of bright white, like a sky full of shooting stars.  The burning sensation pulses

X reaches around her waist, holding her trembling body against his. With the other arm, he gently pulls the thong from her mouth, then pulls her into his chest.  “Breathe. Breathe. I have you.”

Jill turns and raises her arms to wrap around X’s neck; X drops his soothing palms to caress Jill’s reddened ass.  Jill melts into the safety of X’s embrace.

He leans in, teasing her neck with his goatee, “I want you to know I am very proud of you. You are an outstanding disciple. Before we move on, I have something to put on your bottom.”

“Arnica?” Jill manages.

“Yes, well, it’s arnica and vitamin E.  Is that OK?”

“Yes,” Jill responds, turning to place her hands back on the bench. 

X unzips the black bag and finds the container of his cooling concoction.  He squirts a shot in his palms, then applies it gently to Jill’s reddened bum. 

Jill’s body is alive, adoring the knowing love with every smooth stroke. 

“Would you like to be rewarded?”

With her last tear fallen, Jill nods her head.

Jill is not thinking or hearing.  She is only feeling an aliveness she hasn’t felt in the years since Bill died.  An aliveness that makes her feel seen, cherished, worthy, connected. This is what I have missed.

“Would you like to lie on the table, or somewhere else?”

“Just hold me,” she says. “Sit.”

X sits on the bench, guiding Jill onto his lap.  Enveloped in a cocoon of blissful awareness and contentedness without the burden of thought. Jill drifts off to sleep.

X carries Jill to the window bench in the sitting room and covers her with a blanket.