Mr. Jessup was away often because he worked on the railroad. That meant he might be away for days at a time. That was alright with me because it gave ...e more of a chance to peek at Mrs. Jessup whenever I could. We lived right next door, with only about ten feet separating the houses. She lived in an old house, built in a desert town long ago, so all the rooms had doors, and all the doors had keyholes, whose keys had been long lost. Like most people then she didn't bother to lock her door during. "How do you do, Ms. Johnson?" He pulls up a chair and parks his retsina. His handshake, like his smile, is pure Teflon: manufactured and bulletproof.I mirror his formality. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Kavanaugh." His voice sounds familiar. This far from home, doesn't every Bostonian sound familiar?The server attentively relocates Kavanaugh's lunch plate and refills our glasses. Robert and Kavanaugh fall into easy catchup conversation. The two had been business associates, and their wives belonged. “Thank you. Please continue punishing this ass!”“Why do I have to punish this ass? What did it do?” I asked as I spanked her ass. I had learned to hit in the center of the crack and force her cheeks apart in an explosion of air as I did.“Thirteen Sir, I laughed when I should have had my mind on my own service and shot my butt plug across the pool. It embarrassed you and reflected poorly on the household. You are right to punish this ass because it is connected to an unworthy slave and it will. . damn you!"Despondently, Lynn stretched out on the bed, still wearing the same miniskirt and blouse she had quickly pulled on in her attempted escape. It was the suit she'd worn on her happy flight out there, except for the jacket that lay over the back of the chair... and she couldn't hold back the little tear that trickled down her cheek as she remembered the beautiful thoughts that had filled her mind... soaring through the heavens toward the man she loved... her very own husband... Mother.