Here is a story; or not really a story; something I wrote; one of those dialogues. I feel as if I have written this before. Maybe I am starting to repeat myself. I don't know. Anyway, a conversation between two people. Here it is.
'Do you ever...', she stared in front of her.
Her red haired friend smiled and looked at her.
'Do I ever, what?'
'Nah, nothing,' she replied.
The two women were sitting at the foot of the big statue, overlooking the open plaza. There were people all around but with the cars and and the noise they were strangely alone sitting there. No one would hear.
They had bought tea and were cluthching their paper cups and looking at the city in front of them. The woman with the auburn hair, who had interrupted her speech looked at her friend and saw the setting sun reflect in her red hair and make it shine with a lustre that seemed almost out of this world.
'Come on!' the red haired said, 'come on! Now I am curious.'
'Do you ever feel...feel weird.'
'All the time,' she replied smiling, 'but I don't know if I am in that particular way.'
'In what particular way?'
She sounded a little annoyed.
'The way you are thinking.'
'What am I thinking?'
The red haired woman smiled.
'Come on! Tell me!'
The auburn woman stared out into nothingness.
'I have these strange thoughts,' she said after a while.'
'Like urges or ideas,' she continued.
The red haired nodded for her to continue.
'Have you ever...I mean...have you ever had your bottom...well, smacked.'
Her friend held back a little laugh.
'Pinched but not smacked.'
'What would you think if someone did it, like, smacked your...bottom?'
'You are telling me that you want your bottom smacked?'
'No...well...yes...sort of...I guess.'
'Don't blush! Nothing strange with that. You want a little hanky panky, nothing wrong with that.'
She sat in silence. The red haired woman looked at her and saw that perhap she meant something different. She waited.
'No, not just like that,' the auburn haired woman said in a soft voice.
'In what way then?'
And now the friend's voice was very soft too.
'Oh, I am weird, I am.'
'Are you sure?'
'I can't help it, it is like a poison, all those fantasies. I kind of have those images in my head, when I see a man, someone I fancy, or even if I don't fancy him, some of them are quite...well, repulsive but I always, always think the same.'
She fell silent.
'About smacking your bottom?'
'Yeah, that's the weird point, isn't it? I always see them smacking my bottom. Or smacking my bottom sounds nice. I think of them throwing me over their lap and whacking my bottom, real hard, like with their full strength, like they were angry or something. Hard, on my bottom so that it hurts. I mean, imagine a strong man, smacking your bottom, hard!'
'Yes, I see.'
'You see what?'
'Well, I don't really, or I do. I see what you mean. You have these thoughts of being spanked, that is not so bad. It could be worse.'
'It is worse.'
'They are just thoughts.'
'Well, listen to this! He is not satisifed with just smacking me. He pulls down my trousers and knickers and smacks me on the bare, and it really hurts. Imagine how it hurts? It must hurt, mustn't it? I mean, a strong man, smacking away on your naked bottom. I mean, and he often uses, like a hairbrush or something, something hard, so that it will hurt more.'
'Yes, it hurts, I can imagine. Can't think you are so weird. Spanking is not that strange, really, lots of people do it.'
'You don't do it.'
'Perhaps not, but I am not all and everyone.'
'But I am weird. I know people, sort of, do it, to, sort of, you know...spice up, you know...what they do...in bed. I never thought it was anything more than a few slaps and just like...smack and while you are at it, sort of. This is different.'
'Yeah, like he wants it to hurt, likes it to be bad for me. And I always think he will just take me over his knee, wherever we are, like if I saw someone now, I would think he would do it here. Knickers down and smack my bottom, in public, like he wants to...well, humiliate me and make me suffer, like he wanted all to see.'
'I don't think you are weird.'
'It is weird, the worse he is, the better it is, I sort of always want it to be really bad, like he hits me with something heavy, something I can't stand, somethng that would really, really hurt.'
They sat in silence for a while. The red haired woman looked calm, intrigued. Her friend seemed to be in distress and was looking at her friend with worry in her eyes, as if to seek approval.
'When you think like that,' the red haired said, 'when you think like that, are you aroused?'
The auburn woman took some time before she replied.
'Yes,' she said and looked at her feet, 'I am, very much so, that is the worst, like, as if I wanted it.'
'Maybe you do.'
'I can't, no one can...I can't possibly, who would want...that?'
'I think you do want it.'
The auburn woman looked distraught.
'Do you...ever...want that?' she asked.
'No, never,' the red haired woman said.
Her friend looked devastated, lowered her gaze, blushed.
'I am...I am weird,' she said.
'But,' the red haired interrupted her, 'but I do think of those things.'
'Yes, a lot.'
'But...but, you just said.'
'I said I didn't want to have my bottom smacked.'
'I don't understand.'
'Well, I tend to be the one with the hairbrush.'