Posted by Molly on April 10, 2001 at 13:19:29:
Sunday dawned bright and beautiful. The sky was robin’s egg blue and the snow glistened quietly in the peaceful morning. I was sharing a cabin with the camp director, and I awoke and tiptoed downstairs to shower and dress. I had made coffee and was reviewing my speech as Joann came down the steps, yawning.
I’d gone to bed early last night; she had stayed up ’til the kids’ dance ended at about 11:00, and had done some reading downstairs afterward (including my speech). She was thrilled with it, and seemed to be amused at my nervousness.
“Molly, I can’t understand you—I know you give speeches all the time!”
But I laughed back and admitted, “Yeah, but not to kids. It requires a whole different attitude to reach them.”
She nodded, and allowed as the other speakers’ evaluations were all over the map, even though she knew (as did the other camp counselors) their messages were terrifically prepared and presented. I had seen many of the same speakers last year, and was surprised when the kids hadn’t caught on like we thought they would.
Too nervous to even eat breakfast, I politely deferred and made my way to the lodge where the general meeting would take place. It was beautiful inside—a vast, one-room cedar-paneled building with seating for 500 and rising about 3 stories high.
I marked my place on the stage and walked through my speech. As the students began arriving after breakfast I noticed that they were a little draggy. (Well, I thought they did have a late dance last night.)
The counselors dragged themselves in, too, and I chuckled, remembering last year when I was also dead tired on Sunday morning. But I was introduced and launched into my topic.
It was wonderful. They laughed when they were supposed to, they nodded their heads at my examples, and it was 20 of the fastest minutes that ever passed in my life. The surprise for me was that I had actually already memorized the speech and didn’t have to refer to my notes at all!
I ended and they gave me a standing ovation. I was completely flabbergasted. I felt that I had done what I came to do—but nothing on that grand a scale!
Joann gave me a huge hug as people filed out of the building onto their next group discussions & projects, and several of the counselors made their way down to the stage to shake my hand. I was completely amazed.
After leaving the building I immediately called Francesco to tell him the news. He must have been waiting by the phone because I didn’t even hear it ring! He was completely elated for me and it was wonderful to hear him tell me he was proud of me. I think he knows that there’s this tiny little seed of insecurity inside of me that grew into a large leafy plant under Gene’s care, and Francesco needs to chop it down and make sure its roots die. What a terrific man.
About an hour later Joann found me in the counselor’s lounge. She had a strange look on her face.
“Molly, I have your evals. Now don’t be too upset if they’re not what you expect. I think you did an incredibly wonderful job in there . . .” Then she sighed and handed me the folder.
I looked at her with upraised eyebrows and she shrugged her shoulders. As I canvassed the evaluation sheets, I discovered that I had practically struck out with the kids. It was weird--they seemed so attentive in the room. But they had completely disconnected by the time their discussion groups had processed my speech.
Wow. I looked back at her and shook my head. “I’m really sorry, Joann. I’m really sorry.”
She sat down next to me and put her arm around me. “I don’t want you to think you did badly, Molly. I gave you the worst possible time slot—Sunday morning after a late night dance. And the topic I gave you was the most difficult one of all. It’s like I gave you a completely impossible task.”
“Aw, Joann, don’t worry about it. I knew what I was up against. I’m just surprised about the standing ovation! Were they just glad to have me shut up?”
She chuckled sheepishly. “They give everybody a standing ovation here, remember?”
And I did remember. She was right. I didn’t feel crushed, just sad that I hadn’t delivered for my friend. But she and I knew that somehow, someday, some of the kids would remember what I’d said and apply it to their own lives.
But that wouldn’t be today, I guessed.
It was odd—during the rest of the day several more counselors came up to me and thanked me for my speech. And to a one they’d shake their heads and say, “I don’t understand why the kids didn’t get it. Even I couldn’t reach them in the discussion groups.”
Oh, well. Can’t be a winner all the time. Just play the game the best you know how . . .
It was time to head down the hill at 3:30. It had stopped snowing the night before, right after I had arrived. All I needed to do was get one of the guys to remove my chains, and it was a straight shot back home.
I knew that Francesco was already in the air, so I didn’t try to call him. It was a wonderful drive down the mountain, knowing I could relax and take in the scenery and not worry about losing control of the car anymore.
I arrived home about 5:00 and was welcomed by my dogs. Francesco was to fly into San Diego tonight but he’d be in meetings and we’d not be able to spend very much time together. So we had decided that I’d drive down there after work on Monday and we’d have the whole night with each other.
Monday late in the afternoon I drove down to San Diego, amazed at another wintery storm which was blowing through Southern California. I chuckled as I thought of another foot of snow falling in the local mountains, and how happy I was not to have to go up there again!
Francesco had arranged for the hotel desk to leave me a card key, and I decided to surprise him by ordering room service which was delivered just before his general session ended downstairs.
He came up to the room and got eyesful of surprises.
For in addition to the room service, I had brought champagne and roses, and some “goodies” I had bought (and the credit card charges, courtesy of his backfired April Fool’s joke last week).
As Francesco walked into the room, the first things to catch his eye were all the small vanilla-scented votive candles I’d placed around the room. There was a soft jazzy cd playing and I had turned down the bed and sprinkled some rose petals on the sheets, collected from the first roses in my garden. I greeted him wearing a white silk poet shirt, under which was a white merry widow corset and stockings from Victoria’s Secret.
I handed him a flute of champagne and I thought his eyeballs would pop out of their sockets. Dear boy, I thought with an amused smile. It had only been a week since we’d seen each other, but I had felt rather vampy all day and decided to really pour it on tonight . . .
He gulped unintentionally and sputtered a bit, then smiled and patted my bottom.
“Cara-mia! Cosa è questo?” he murmured, lifting up the hem of my shirt just a little to peek. I clucked my tongue and wagged my finger.
“No, no, no!” I laughed, sipping my champagne just slightly out of his reach. “You must wait to have dessert after dinner, Francesco!”
“Ah, Molly—you did not come down here and make this room beautiful just to resist your Francesco, I know,” he said, putting down his champagne and walking toward me.
There is nothing quite as seductive as the look in a man’s eyes when he wants his woman, and Francesco had slowly backed me into a corner. Breathing calmly, he took away my champagne flute and pressed his body next to mine, letting me feel the full strength of his desire. He kissed my neck and my chin while his fingers undid the buttons on my shirt.
Oh, damn, I thought. I was only going to let him take my things off one per course, kind of like the game of strip poker we played in New Orleans that night. But Francesco had other plans. He took off my shirt and whistled appreciatively as he took in the sight of “dessert.”
“Molly-mia, you have been shopping, sì?”
“Sì,” I admitted. We hadn’t really talked about a spending limit last week. I hoped he remembered that.
“And what else did my little angel buy?” he asked with an upraised eyebrow and a boyish grin.
I slipped out from under his arm and sat on the bed, patting it for him to join me. I thought the perhaps it would be best to help him unwind from the harrowing, stressful day downstairs, taking pages of notes from an endless stream of boring speakers than to discuss trifling money matters . . .
“Molly, you did not answer me,” he said in mocked anger.
“No, I didn’t,” I said with a smile. “Perhaps you’d like dessert before dinner after all, caro?”
“Hmm,” he said, taking off his tie and rolling up his sleeves. “And perhaps you would like a spanking before I enjoy my dessert?”
“Oooh,” I said, playfully wrapping his tie around my neck. “I thought you’d never offer . . .”
He grinned as he sat down next to me and pulled me over his lap. His hand was warm and strong as he caressed the curve of my bottom and snapped the garter straps.
Then, smack! He swatted me and the sweet sting bathed my bottom with a delicious warmth. Smack! Smack! A soft moan escaped my lips. I was loving this, he knew . . .
“Are you going to tell me how much money you spent?” he asked, but his voice seemed to come from outside our solar system. Smack! Smack!
“Hmmm?” I could hardly focus on his voice, for his hands held 200% of my attention right now. SMACK!
“Ow!” I exclaimed. “That hurt!”
“Did it now?” he asked innocently. SMACK! SMACK!
“Owie!” I said again, suddenly trying to wriggle away from that hand. “Stop it!” He held me tighter and spanked me hard a couple more times.
This wasn’t fun anymore, and I swung my arm around to protect my backside. He stopped and held me there, both of us breathing hard.
“Are you going to tell me now, Molly?” He sounded a little irritated. I certainly was.
“Well?” he demanded, and he raised his hand again.
“Yes!” I hissed, having tensed up, waiting for the next blow. It didn’t come, and I relaxed. “Can I get up now?” I asked awkwardly.
He helped me up and I rubbed my bottom a little. This wasn’t turning out to be the evening I had planned. Francesco folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head at me. He looked frustrated.
“Molly, how much money did you spend?”
“About $350,” I answered, rubbing my bottom once more and backing away a little.
“$350! Are you crazy?” He jumped up angrily. “I never said you could spend that much money! What are you doing? What the hell did you buy for $350?”
My mouth dropped open in complete astonishment. I couldn’t believe he was chewing me out like this! He—who drops thousands of dollars on things for me after he’s blown on a pair of dice was angry for me spending paltry few hundred!
“Francesco, why are you mad? You never told me there was a spending limit! If you don’t want to pay for these things, it’s no big deal—I have a job too, you know!”
He glared at me and said nothing. Then he sat down on the bed in a huff and picked up one of the rose petals to examine it.
Boy, had I screwed up, I guessed. Big time. But this was so unexpected! He knew I was going to get some things, and he should have considered the fact that I’d spend a little bit more to buy some things he’d like to see me in!
“Can I sit down with you?” I asked softly. He nodded, but didn’t say anything. He threw the first petal on the floor and picked up another.
I took in a deep breath. Geez, I really hate it when I do something that upsets Francesco. Why didn’t I get the ground rules down first? It would have been such a simple thing to do last week. Now none of the things I’d bought for “us” seemed worthwhile at all. I started to hate them.
“What did you buy, cara?” he asked softly.
I smiled with relief hearing that endearing term again. “I got these things, plus leather pants and a leather jacket,” I answered.
Francesco laughed softly and shook his head in amazement.
“Francesco, I can take them back if you want. I’m sorry about misunderstanding. I just thought—”
He waved me off mid-sentence and smiled softly. “No, Molly-mia. Do not return them. They probably make you look more sexy than I could ever dream about. I am sorry that I got angry at you. And I am sorry that I spanked you so hard. It was not right for me to do that.”
I leaned over and kissed his cheek, murmuring, “That’s okay, caro. I’d rather be spanked by you than any man in the world. Even if you're angry at me.”
He laughed and replied, “Is that so?” Then he wrestled me onto my stomach and swatted me again—playfully this time, though I squealed in mild protest.
“Then I shall owe you 350 spanks this week, my love. Not all at once, of course. I shall spread them over the week for you to enjoy, Molly-mia.”
“Oh, Francesco, please do. Please do!”
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