Copyright 1999 to <mollyb@newsguy.com>, <mijita@thetreehouse.net>, and <pablo@thetreehouse.net>. 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.

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[Posted to soc.sexuality.spanking, 26 February 1999]

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[Image of Mr Impossible][Image of Little Miss Naughty][Image of Little Miss Sunshine]The Streets (and Hotel Rooms) of San Francisco; or, Mija, Pablo and Molly Go City Hiking and Spanking
by MollyB, Mija & Pablo

Those of you who were around in the middle of last year may remember a three-way post by Randi, Mija and Pablo about their meeting together in the desert. Well, here's another in the same style, by MollyB, Mija and Pablo. It's really MollyB's post, with Greek chorus style comments by Mija and Pablo.

So that you can figure out who is who, here's the legend:

Unbracketed text is MollyB
Text in {} brackets is Mija
Text in [] brackets is Pablo

Enjoy! (We did. :-)

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Want to know how to make a certain British moderator blush immoderately? Just call Pablo "Panty Master" on a San Francisco street. Want to go for something more subtle and make him blush more moderately (and reveal dimples)?

[<Mumbling and grumbling about how unfair it is to take advantage of a man's congenitally-low embarrassment threshold, and feeling pretty hopeful that no-one wants to know about this low and mean trick - even if it is just to see his cute dimples.>]

Just ask him several times over the course of a day as you traipse around town whether or not he still has your panties in his backpack. Want to know how Pablo came to be carrying panties around in San Francisco? Want to read a tale of pathos about Mija and Molly walking miles and miles and up really steep hills in the Bay City?

[Not to mention brat hyperbole...]

Want to know about playing Spank'bble? Well, this might be just the place to find out.

{<Laughing> Wanna know how very very cute Molly is? And how she can out-brat Mija with her one hand tied? (though of course Mija was really sick and not at peak form natch!)?}

[You know, I was going to snort a little haughtily at this, but then I remembered the bottle of water that, um, found its way into the back of my sweatpants, and found myself thinking that Mija - even Mija - would scarcely dare to do such a thing. Molly is truly a great brat in the making. I'll leave you to define 'great' for yourselves, and read on...]

Molly met Mija and Pablo in San Francisco for a few wonderful days of fun and spanking. Mija was every bit as adorable as Molly knew she would be --

{<rolls eyes> Talk about friendship being blind. On the drive up, which Pablo and Mija had to do way fast because Pab hadn't made sure they'd gotten off on time, Mija had been totally nervous because she had the mother of all fever blisters on her lip (and it looked ever so lovely).}

[<a small ahem!> Right, so it was my fault that we got locked out of the otherwise-empty dorm just before we were about to set off? I see. <rolls eyes a little>]

{Plus P & M arrived hours late, with Mija so feverish she didn't notice she was carrying a teddy bear and sheep back pack through the lobby of the SF hotel. Where of course she ran into one of her teachers? (Doesn't that happen to everyone when they travel hundreds of miles from home to a city with like millions of people in it?)}

[Sweetie, it probably does if they're using the excuse of going to one of the largest academic conferences in the world as a cover for seeing friends, buying panties and spanking toys, and playing perverted versions of venerable word-games. And we did call Molly from the closest Denny's we could find and let her know we'd be late - taking the opportunity (just because we were there to make a phone call, natch) to test whether the quality of their French toast is constant throughout the whole of California. (BTW: it is. :-)]

--and the good-natured Pablo has a ponytail that just begs to be tugged every now and then, especially in cable cars and taxis.

[And here's me thinking that hair-pulling was just something that small boys did to girls they pretended not to like but secretly had a crush on. Ummmm...]

And since Pablo never said, "By the way, please don't pull my ponytail," Molly knew it must be an ok thing to do.

[Well sure. I also don't remember saying 'By the way, please don't explode a thermonuclear device in the hotel bathroom', but did you do that? You see my point? I thought so.]

Another fun thing, and an even more innocent one, is to just lightly hold Pablo's ponytail and then wait for him to turn his head; that way, any tugging sensation he feels is entirely his own fault <eg>.

[All this is being stored for future reference, I hope you realise that.]

In addition to needing his hair pulled, Pablo seems to attract water. It's just the darnedest thing you've ever seen. Squirty squids just practically aim in his direction of their own will, and Mija and Molly had all they could do to control the squids. Truth be told, Pablo is amazingly good-tempered and tolerates the consequences of this squirty behavior very well, but it's kind of a bad idea to pour a bottle of water down his pants when he interferes with the refilling of the squids.

[Well, I'm pretty hard to shock, but this did it, I must say. The only reason I didn't turn Molly over my knee right there and then was total astonishment at such behaviour. I know better now, obviously: behind that sweet demeanour lurk the social graces of Veruca Salt.]

{<scowl> An' even though Molly was obviously ever so much more responsible for stuff, 'specially the water-down-the-pants stunt poor Mija got blamed and "needed" a special talking to about company and her behavior later. (!!!!) As Peg pointed out when later told about all of this, "Pablo and Mija just invented "time-out"}

The first afternoon, the intrepid explorers set out on their trek through the streets of San Francisco. Pablo's innate sense of direction came in very handy, but his seeming inability to count city blocks was a real puzzle -- unless he was purposely saying "2 blocks" when he knew we had more like 8 to go. Usually uphill. Probably because he's British and not used to complaining, Pablo doesn't seem to get the crucial distinction between not being able to do something and not wanting to do something. The something in this case being walking our feet off.

[Probably because I'm British, I understand that there's a difference between scaling Everest during a blizzard, and a pleasant half-mile stroll on a bright and sunny and warm Californian day in one of the nicest cities in the world.]

Mija and Molly could easily have hiked all over the place if they had wanted to, but after miles and miles and miles, they felt a civic obligation to support mass transit.

[And then we'd have missed the mad bleeding cyclist with the hunted look and the gashed arm who needed our help (and money) to get home. I'm sure you wouldn't really have wanted to miss all the local colour - mostly red - that can only be seen at street level.]

{<pressing back of hand to then feverish brow> Plus, Mija was sick. Were it not for Molly's insistence she would have ended up passed out on a sidewalk somewhere whimpering her repeated whine for Diet Coke. These were serious SF hills -- ya know, the streets with the ropes hanging down the side walks.}

[<Pab is not impressed, and reminds Mija that he lives in a city with a volcano right in the middle of it.>]

{Note: another important travel hint: Should you find yourself in SF on a Sunday and want to go out for brunch, the Palace Hotel looked really nice. But, um, Molly, Pablo and Mija discovered that even if more than half the tables are empty they won't seat ya without a reservation. Especially if you're wearing purple Converse high-tops, sheep back packs and/or carrying holstered squirty squids. Who'da thought! Fortunately they were able to find food elsewhere without resorting to Pab's repeated suggestion of Denny's.}

[My mission to compare the French toast in all of the California Denny's restaurants is thwarted again!. But we did get breakfast in what must be the highest restaurant in the city - right at the top of the Bank of America building. And Pab paid, so everything was cool.]

In the evening, Mija, Pab, and Molly played a new game of Spank'bble -- Scrabble (which both Mija and Pablo play like fiends) with a little spanking twist.

{<Mija quietly points out that Pab hardly ever beats her. . . . at Scrabble>}

[Pab has nothing to say about this, except to point out that things change.]

The rules are really quite brilliant, and Molly didn't even mind her own embarrassingly pathetic wordscore so much because the game had rewards that were other than numerical. Or, actually, they were numerical, too. Because the spanks we got throughout the game depended on the number of points assigned for the words as in Vanilla Scrabble. Mija or Pab (aka "Science Boy") can explain the intricacies of the game; let's just say that the number of spanks you get (usually) depends on other people's word scores. This was brought home to Molly's li'l bottom when Mija got 77 points for some outrageous word with a Q (10 points right there, not to mention the other 67) and then got to spank Molly 77 times practically at the very start of the game.

{<bright smile> That was fun. Though my hand sure hurt!}

[Right, basically, assuming you score more than 10, you get to give one of the players - chosen randomly - that many spanks, with an implement that's also chosen randomly, and a degree of clothing that's also chosen randomly. But - and here's the neat twist, there's a one-in-however-many-are-playing chance that you'll draw yourself to take the spanks, so getting a really good score can rebound. <smiling with satisfaction at the fiendish rules>]

In addition to hotel room fun, there was lots of eating and shopping and more walking. The second afternoon, after breakfast, the trio went shopping again. But first Molly got to see for herself that the report that Pab eats French toast with salt and pepper and no syrup is in fact true.

[What?! Drown those subtle flavours in all that gooey syrup! Pah!]

After witnessing such gastronomic atrocity, it was a miracle that Molly and Mija could even make their way down the hill to the Shrine of the Purple Converse High-Tops and to the panty department at Macy's. At the first stop, a store where he had previously purchased his famous purple footwear several months before, Pablo added to his Converse collection, and Mija got a lovely pair of colorful high-tops.

{It was here that Molly's true gift for whining was revealed as she wanted high-tops like Mija's (and well, who wouldn't?) only to discover that some selfish fiend had already bought the last pairs in Molly's size. Mija felt so bad, and was in fact so impressed by the pitch and volume of the whining, that she didn't (hardly) gloat.}

With the Converse supply secured, the three went into Macy's to look for panties because Molly felt that the extras she had packed might not be enough and because the more panties you have, the less often you have to do laundry. Oh, here's another way to get Pab to blush: Mija asked him in a conversational tone whether the pair of panties she was holding up in Macy's lingerie department looked "spankable." He didn't answer, but Molly suspects that the swat Mija received as she waited to pay for her panties had something to do with that casual inquiry.

[Truth be told, Mija looks spankable in anything. It's like a glow from inside. But nice simple flowery panties don't do any harm. :-) ]

{<scowl> Mija seriously doubted that her voice carried all that far. But her pouting stopped so the three could take a picture with cut outs of Tigger and Pooh, placed conveniently next to the panty section.}

[Yes, and it makes one think again about the apparent innocence of those two. And, for that matter, the innocence of whoever put them there. Because isn't it the case that a love of Pooh and a love of panties and a love of spanking go together?]

Pablo rather gallantly offered to put Mija's and Molly's packages in his backpack as all three boarded the trolley for Fisherman's Wharf. You can often tell a lot about a person by the contents of his or her backpack, don't you think?

[Of course, like how kind and gentlemanly they are. You think the fact that you'd just bought new panties had something to do with my carrying them for you? New cotton panties. New, soft, white, cotton panties. New, soft, white, innocent, flowered cotton panties. New, soft...

...what? Hmmm? Where was I?]

More walking around, more dining out, a couple of plaid skirts, and it was time to call it a night (in some time zone or other, it must still have been night).

{Poor Pablo had to play school master to two ever-so-good school girls who due to unfortunate laundry mishaps hadn't worn the school's regulation knickers. Still, their uniforms were in matching plaid with grey knee socks. Which ought to have counted for something.}

[Poor Pablo. Poor, poor Pablo. Poor, poor, poor Pablo. <Cheshire cat grin>]

A few hours later, with her first "real" tho' somewhat silly toy from Stormy Leather packed in her checked luggage, it was almost time for Molly to leave. Mija and Pablo took it really well when Molly woke them up early to say goodbye. They both even gave her a lovely going away present that kept her nice and warm during the shuttle ride to the airport.

[<Smiling> And it was a present that Molly pretty much asked for, which was somewhat sweet and delicious all by itself. And it was a pleasure and a delight to meet her.]

{And Mija wished the three could all live in San Francisco together in a really big house, or at least on the same block. Being together had just seemed so right.}

[One day maybe.]

[Fin. Until next time...]

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