Copyright 1998 to <> Please respect this copyright. Don't distribute or archive this story in any way except for personal use without explicit permission. No, it's not in the public domain. Ask first, okay? Thanks.

[horizontal rule]

[Image of Little Miss Sunshine]Deep Water; or, Joan and Lisa Visit Jamie and Alan at the Beach
in which: Alan Gives Jamie the Shirt off his Back (twice), Jamie is Spanked by Alan (well, duh), and Both of Them Learn a Few Things

by MollyB

It was about 6 PM when Alan reached the beach house he and Jamie were renting for the month of July. Jamie had gotten there much earlier in the day and had started to get the place ready for their stay. On top of a bluff, the house had wooden stairs leading from a deck in back down to the sand. At one end of the house there were two bedrooms, one of which was being used as a study, and at the other end of the house was the guest bedroom and bath. In between was a good-sized living room that faced the front of the house and a well-equipped kitchen with large windows and sliding glass doors that opened onto the deck. The weather was pleasant, and the windows were open to let in a sea breeze.

Joan and Lisa were going to arrive later that evening to spend a week with Jamie and Alan. Jamie always considered herself very fortunate in having Joan for a friend; members of the same academic department, they had clicked almost instantly, and they were confidantes about both work and personal stuff. Lisa and Joan had been together for about 3 years, and both couples often socialized together. Alan was one of those rare men who really enjoyed the company of women and knew how to gossip with them.

When he didn't find Jamie in the house, Alan headed for the beach. He was looking forward to these 4 weeks, even though he knew he'd probably make at least a couple of trips back home to take care of business. Jamie had brought her computer and some research materials but also a good supply of detective fiction and mysteries--Paretsky, Grafton, Cornwell, Dunlap, and others--"chick dicks," as she liked to think of them. Although Joan and Jamie had some school work to do together, Jamie was hoping to work on her newest hobby: learning to relax.

About an hour before Alan got there, Jamie had thought she might take a walk on the beach and get her feet wet. She was wearing a mostly black one-piece bathingsuit under her loose-fitting khaki shorts. The lifeguards were packing up for the day, and only a few people remained on the sand or at the water's edge. The sun was already getting lower in the sky but wouldn't set until around 8:30. Jamie always loved the solitude of the beach in the late afternoon. When she was alone with the ocean, it seemed as if this one late afternoon merged with all the other times she had spent on various beaches; being at the shore seemed unifying in a way. She understood why there were so many bad paintings of the ocean.

Jamie stood in one place in the shallow water and let the waves bury her feet in the sand. Then, pulling her feet up, she waded into the water a little deeper. The water felt great, and soon Jamie was lost in play with the waves, oblivious to the fact that she still had her shorts on and that she was the only person still in the water or on the beach. Smiling with delight, Jamie was jumping waves and diving through them as they broke overhead. She swam out past where they were breaking so she could do some real swimming and then headed back in a little bit to jump waves again.

When Alan spotted her, she was playing like a seal pup. He gestured to Jamie to come into shore. Because she was so far out, almost even with the end of the stone jetty, it took her a few minutes to reach Alan. She swam for a bit, then rode a wave part way, and finally waded through the shallow water to where Alan was standing. Happy to see him, she gave him a wet hug, laughing as she drenched his clothes. He returned the hug and kissed her wet, salty forehead. He let her know how glad he was to be with her, but then the tenor of his greeting changed.

"Jamie, what were you doing all the way out there by yourself? You promised that if you were alone and without a lifeguard, you'd never go out deeper than your tush. And you promised you'd never go out as far as you were just now at all. I know you're a strong swimmer, but it's just not safe. Buddy system and all that. You don't know the currents here. I am astonished that you'd do something like this."

Jamie couldn't believe that her exhilarating wave jumping had come to this end, being lectured to by Alan about safety and broken promises. How could her innocent joy in swimming in the ocean have gotten her here? She tried to explain that she hadn't meant to get that wet at all. In fact, she pointed out that she was still wearing her shorts over her swimsuit and had not brought a towel with her, evidence of her impulsiveness and not premeditated promise-breaking.

Alas, that didn't gain her any ground. Alan seemed to think she should be able to pay better attention to what she was doing. For once, Jamie did not try to cite any studies supporting her actions. She found herself walking quickly ahead of Alan, trying to keep more than an arm's distance between them as she crossed the sand to the stairs leading to the house. The sand stuck to Jamie's wet legs, and she headed for the small outdoor shower stall on the deck to rinse off and wash the salt water out of her hair. She peeled off her wet clothes and held them under the shower head. Alan said he'd meet her indoors and left her his T-shirt to put on after she dried herself off. The dark green towel that had been on the deck in the sun felt wonderfully warm on Jamie's skin as she rubbed herself down. She tried not to think about how upset Alan was over her swim.

Entering the house, she called for Alan and located him in the bedroom. "Alan, I. . ." was all she got out before he started speaking.

"Jamie," he said, "you know you aren't going to get away with breaking a promise and doing something as dangerous as you just did, don't you?"

Jamie said nothing.

"What time will Lisa and Joan be here?"

This needed an answer. "Around 8, I think."

"Well then, here's your choice. You can either get your spanking over with now before they get here, or you can wait until after their visit--it's up to you."

"Some choice," thought Jamie, but she decided she'd rather not have the spectre of a spanking present all during her friends' visit.

"Jamie, this is serious, and I want you to recognize that. You broke promises and you were doing something extremely dangerous. So, young lady, you will be doing some corner time before your spanking, and in addition to my hand, I am going to paddle your bottom with your hairbrush."

"What? corner time? *corner time*? I've never . . . I don't even know how. . . corner time? you can't mean this . . . and my hairbrush?" Shocked, Jamie couldn't remember the last time Alan had spanked her with her hairbrush.

"Yes, Jamie, that's what I said, corner time and your hairbrush. There isn't much to know about how to do corner time. You stand in the corner. You keep your head turned to the corner. You keep quiet. For 10 minutes." Alan knew that standing still for 10 minutes, while not a trial for some people, would be very difficult for Jamie; anything longer than that would just be cruel. And there was the immanent arrival of Joan and Lisa to consider. "*Now*, Jamie."

Wearing Alan's blue T-shirt, Jamie headed sulkily for the corner, barefoot and on legs that felt as if she were still jumping waves. When 10 minutes had passed, Alan called her to him where he sat on a straight- backed chair. Her legs shook as she made her way across the seemingly enormous expanse of floor. She saw that Alan had retrieved her hairbrush from the bathroom.

Alan took her hands and guided her over his lap, instructing her to hold the chair rungs as he positioned her for the spanking. Gravity was not on Jamie's side, and she felt as though she would fall on her head; the large T-shirt fell floorward and exposed her vulnerable bottom. Jamie had not yet spent much time in the summer sun; there was only a slight difference in color between her pale thighs and her even paler bottom.

Often Jamie would be in tears by the time she was over Alan's knees, a mixture of emotions at work, anxiety and a sort of security in the familiarity and inevitability of things. But this was different--she wasn't used to Alan sitting in a chair instead of on a couch or bed, and she wasn't used to anticipating a hairbrush. Jamie felt too shaky to cry, if that's possible. She clung tightly to the chair rungs. Alan snugged her to him and held her tightly in place so she wouldn't fall. Jamie held her breath as she waited for the spanking to start.

SLAP, SLAP, SMACK filled the bedroom as Alan started spanking Jamie's bare bottom with his large hand. SMACK, SMACK and finally "oww" SMACK "oh, shit" SMACK "eeeyoowwwch, Al--aan" SMACK. As Alan continued his assault on Jamie's rapidly pinkening backside and Jamie felt the oh-so-familiar sting, her tears started to fall. Alan didn't say much, just continued landing hard spanks, distributing them evenly, reddening her bottom. After rubbing her bottomcheeks and massaging some of the sting away, Alan picked up the hairbrush and patted the center of Jamie's bottom with it to let Jamie know he was about to start using it. Jamie gasped when she felt the wood and then clenched her teeth. She was breathing audibly as the first WHAPs landed. Then WHAP "owww" WHACK "ohhhh" WHAP and then sobs that turned to heartfelt sustained crying.

Alan had thought that about 30 spanks with the hairbrush would be about right for Jamie's misdeeds. But before he had landed 20, Jamie was crying loudly and shaking, and Alan stopped. He waited for Jamie's breathing to even out a bit and then stared rubbing her back and bottom. He massaged some of the sting away, but the burn was slow to change to diffused warmth. "Shhh, shhh, it's all over, sweetie. You're ok." Jamie wept silently then, tears finally slowing to a trickle. Alan helped her off his lap and then stood up himself and gave her a hug. Bending his head down and kissing her softly, he held her close to him and said, "Jamie, you know I love you and always will, no matter what you do." "Uh-huh." "Ok then, sweetie, why don't you wash up and get dressed. I'm going to get some food ready, and you can lie down in the living room for a while."

The cool water felt good splashed on Jamie's hot face. She kept a hand on her even hotter bottom as she thought about what to wear. She chose a baggy pair of white linen pants with an elastic waistband. Often-washed, the fabric was soft to the touch. Jamie decided that if she wore her long black linen T-shirt-like top, she could forego the panties that would only mean uncomfortable seams chafing against her tender tush.

About half an hour later, Lisa and Joan looked in through the front screen door and saw Jamie on her tummy on the couch. She didn't manage to get up before they came into the house and all exchanged greetings.

"Let's see--unopened book, pouty little face, bottomside up on the couch--I'd say it looks like somebody got a spanking recently. Whadidyado Jamie, to deserve this one?" Lisa asked.

"Nothing. Alan was a big meanie and spanked me just 'cause I was having fun," Jamie said with a pout.

Usually, Jamie could take Joan and Lisa's teasing about the fact that Alan spanked her, and she'd even join in joking about it. But it was obvious to both of them that Jamie was not in a mood receptive to teasing and joking right then.

"I'm gonna go see what Alan's doing in the kitchen," Lisa said as she headed into the other room.

Joan looked more closely at Jamie and saw that she looked seconds away from tears; in fact, she looked like a chastened 10 year old.

"Jamie, can I sit near you?" Jamie moved a bit and propped herself up on her arms so that Joan could sit at the end of the couch near Jamie's head.

"Ok, James, spill it."


"Jamie, you look like a sulky, spanked 10 year old, and I know you well enough to know something is the matter. It's not just that you got your bottom smacked, is it?"

Jamie silently shook her head 'no.'

"It can't be that Lisa teased you?"

Another shake of the head.

"But it's something to do with a spanking?"

A small nod 'yes' from Jamie.

"Jamie, let's not play 20 questions, please. Please just tell me what's the matter, ok? Here, put your head on my lap and talk to me."

Jamie inched herself closer to Joan and put her head down on her friend's lap, one arm under her head, the other extended above her head, across both of Joan's jean-clad thighs. Joan put her left hand on Jamie's back. With her right hand, she brushed Jamie's red-brown hair from her face.

"Now, Jamie, hon, are you going to tell me?"

A nod. A squeak.

Joan started rubbing Jamie's back slowly. She had never seen Jamie like this. Something about Jamie's vulnerability made Joan want to take care of her friend and make it all better for her.

"Well," Jamie began, voice quavering, "well, usually after Alan um-sp-spanks me, well, then he rubs my back and um--other places--and then he hugs me and tells me everything's ok and then he sends me to bed and then he gets in bed too and then I cuddle up right next to him and then I fall asleep and then in the morning I wake up and feel much better."

Joan already knew all of this; Jamie had once told her about how a spanking typically went, but Joan let Jamie talk it out, only prompting with a "yes."

"Well, this time, Alan had to get food ready in the kitchen and stuff. I mean, he hugged me an' all, but then he just told me to lie down out here and read or something. And, I know it's silly, but I just--I just feel so sad and alone and abandoned out here. I mean, I know Alan loves me, but I just feel awful."

"Jamie, feelings aren't silly." Joan continued to rub Jamie's back, and Jamie let the tears run down her face. "Feelings are just, well, feelings, and they aren't silly or smart or anything else. Would you like me to massage your neck and back?"

"Oh, Joanie, please."

Keeping her head on Joan's lap, Jamie put her arms at her sides. Joan kneaded Jamie's palms and arms and worked her way up to her neck. Jamie's silent tears came to a stop. She relaxed her strong, swimmer's shoulders in response to Joan's gentle, healing hands, and Joan finished with some broad openhanded slow rubs on Jamie's back. She was pleased to hear Jamie's sigh of relaxation and contentment.

"Thanks Joan, I feel much, much better now!" Jamie wiped her face.

"I'm glad, pal."

Some minutes passed, each woman thinking her own thoughts in silence, and then Joan said, "Jamie, you're lucky that these are just my old jeans that you've soaked with tears; if they were my good pants, I'd have to pull you farther over my lap and give you a good, sound spanking." They both laughed at this because they knew it would never happen. Jamie's laughter was a sign that the 10 year old had been reabsorbed into the adult and that she was feeling like herself again.

"You two done talking shop?" Alan asked as he and Lisa appeared with trays of food. Alan and Lisa often tried to avoid Jamie and Joan's talk about their seemingly insane colleagues. Jamie and Joan looked at each other and said together, "Yeah, sure."

Lisa said, "Alan, our Jamie says that you were a meanie and spanked her just for having fun--is this the case?"

Alan had helped Jamie to her feet, and he stood behind her with his arms crossed over in front of her, forming a sort of nest. Jamie hugged his arms to her as Alan said, "If that's Jamie's story, it must be true." As he leaned down and kissed the top of her head, Jamie whispered "thank you."

"C'mon, let's eat!" Alan could always be counted on when food was concerned. The four friends sat in the living room eating and talking and laughing. Jamie shifted a bit on the couch occasionally and was a little quieter than usual, but they all enjoyed the meal and each other's company. As people often do when they're eating, they all talked about more food opportunities, and they planned a lazy and indulgent brunch for themselves for the next day. Dinner over, Alan and Jamie volunteered to clean up the meal's debris.

"Great! We're gonna go for a romantic stroll on the beach. Don't bother waiting up for us, and we'll try not to wake you when we come in," Lisa said as she and Joan deposited some dishes in the kitchen and headed for the back door.

"Ok," Alan said, "first one up tomorrow makes the coffee--unless it's Joan." "Hey--"

After the mess was under control to Alan's satisfaction, he said, "Jamie, you look exhausted. Why don't you go get undressed, and I'll come rub some lotion on your sore little tush? Would you like that, sweetie?"

Jamie shed her clothes and clambered up naked onto the bed; carefully she lowered herself onto her tummy to wait for Alan, one hand gently rubbing her bottomcheeks.Alan was almost as tired as Jamie. Dressed in his red and blue plaid boxer shorts and a white v-neck T-shirt, Alan returned from the bathroom with a tube of lotion. Because Jamie usually went right to bed after a spanking, Alan wasn't used to seeing what her bottom looked like between the time he stopped spanking it and it was uniformly red and the next morning when it was mostly just a little pink. He felt tremendous guilt and sympathy when he saw how sore Jamie's bottom looked, with some hairbrush marks visible amidst general pinkness. "Oh, Jamie, I'm sorry. You needed a good, hard spanking, but I mean, does it hurt very much yet?"

"Alan, I'm fine, really. But, that hairbrush *really, really* hurt a *lot*. Please don't ever use it like that again. I can deal with corner time if I have to, but please not the brush." Alan agreed to Jamie's request and promised no more hairbrush.

He smoothed the olive and aloe lotion onto her bottom very, very gently with his fingertips and the side of his index finger. Either in response to his touch or because of the breeze blowing through the open window, Jamie shivered a little. Alan pulled off the T-shirt he had planned to sleep in and gave it to Jamie. "Here, baby, put this on." She poked her tangled mop of hair through the neck opening and then put her arms through the sleeves, relishing the way the T-shirt smelled slightly of Alan and was till warm from his body.

"Alan, thank you for keeping your promise and not talking about my um-spanking with Lisa and Joan. You're a good guy. I'm sorry I told them you were a meanie."

"Jamie, you know I promised you that if you want to talk about your spankings, it's up to you, but I won't ever tell anyone anything, not even our best friends."

"Thank you Alan. I love you. You keep promises better than anyone I know." And she added quietly, "I'll try to keep mine, too. I *do* try, you know."

"And I love you, Jamie. Listen, Jamie, I know something was the matter earlier--do you want to tell me what it was? Is it ok now? I promised *I* would never bring up the topic of why you got spanked--once it's over, case closed--but if *you* need to talk about your spanking or the reason for it, *you* can. You don't have to keep it to yourself if you're upset about something. Jamie, you can let me in, remember?" A wave of relief, of overpowering love for Alan, and of the feeling of being loved and cared for washed over Jamie.

"Oh, Alan, I just felt so alone after you went into the kitchen to get stuff ready. I didn't realize till then how much I always depended on feeling your body next to mine after a sp-spanking, and I just felt so terrible there on the couch by myself. I mean, believe me, I'm glad I got it over with, but maybe it would have been better to wait until after Joan and Lisa's visit."

"There's always next time, sweetie."

"Alan!" Jamie exclaimed with shock and indignation that was only partially feigned. Glances exchanged, rueful laughs.

"Ok, Jamie, what do you say we get some sleep? Joan and Lisa aren't expecting us to wait up for them, and I'm really tired." Alan gently pulled the sheets and quilt up over Jamie's shoulders and then climbed into bed himself. He reached over and turned off the bedside light. They felt an occasional light sea breeze coming through the open window, the soft, comforting weight of the quilt on top of them.

Still wearing Alan's big T-shirt, and tummyside down as usual, Jamie rested her head on Alan's bare chest. Time for some pillow talk. "Alan--" A muffled "unh" from a tired Alan. "Alan, Joan says I'd have made a terrible schoolgirl." Alan's attention revived at this curious announcement. "She says that schoolgirls don't get to cuddle and they have to go right back to their classes and put on a brave face and tough it out by themselves. Or, at least they did when she was little. She's right. I cold never have stood that. It's so heartless."

"Yes, sweetheart, that would be heartless." It flashed through Alan's mind that in some ways, he was still getting to know this woman who had slept next to him for so many years. "But you know, it doesn't matter what kind of schoolgirl you would have made when you were a kid. Honey, it's fine to want to snuggle after a spanking. I love cuddling with you, and I know you need it. There is no one way to be a schoolgirl, but if you're wondering and want to be one, well just maybe we'll find out what kind of schoolgirl you'd make now."

Alan smiled broadly in the dark as he thought to himself that perhaps in the near future, he wouldn't be the only one in the family wearing plaid.

[horizontal rule]

Back to MollyB's stories

Back to the treehouse