The river is so beautiful this time of year, what could be better than October? It’s a beautiful month that builds up to Halloween. It’s such fun since we moved to the river. The adults dress up to give out the candy and it’s like one long neighborhood party that ends with a bond fire on the riverbank.
As Tom and I discussed our costumes for this year, I casually remarked, “It’s a shame I can’t quite get in the costume I wore the first Halloween we were together.” I laughed as I saw the peeved look come over Tom’s face. Gracious, that was more than forty years ago the man needs to learn to let things go.
I know people now days see us as a sweet old couple. And I suppose we are, but when we first met I would have been called a wild child. I lived a lifestyle that would have no doubt killed me young. Tom was my hero, he rode in and rescued me from my wild dangerous ways and made me feel safe enough for the lady in me to come out. That doesn’t mean it was smooth sailing from the beginning.
That first Halloween we had barely been married a month. We were in the process of moving to a new house and joined a club in town. That year the club was hosting a big Halloween Ball and my best friend, Sue, and I had been looking forward to going for a while. Tom planned on going as ‘The Phantom’. His only concession to costume was to wear an old style tux with his half mask. My dress was a gorgeous period piece. Victorian and elegant I felt like a queen. Sue and Steve were going as Martha and George and while the Washington’s looked quite elegant I secretly like our outfits much better.
Then out of the blue, Tom breezes in on October twenty-ninth with devastating news. “Girl, I’m sorry as can be, but Steve and I have to go to Washington for a few days.”
“What? When?” I stammered.
“We have to catch a plane in about two hours.”
Oh I was hot and I let him have it. I knew he had to travel for work sometimes, but this was the first time and I felt angry and abandoned.
“Tom, what about the ball? Will you be back in time? Surely you’re not going to miss that.”
“It can’t be helped, honey, we’ll be there until the second. But I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get back. We’ll go somewhere just the two of us for a long weekend. You and Sue can go to the ball together, you’ll still be the two prettiest girls there.”
“Sure,” I snapped pulling away from him. “Maybe I should go as George. I don’t know why your damn job should be more important than plans we’ve already made.”
“Enough.” Tom told me seriously. “Another word and you’ll have trouble sitting while I’m gone. I am sorry about the ball, but there’s nothing I can do.” Relenting a little as he saw my woebegone face, he added. “I love you girl, I don’t want to fight with you. Please try to understand.”
I tried, but I wasn’t doing a very good job. “I have to go. Don’t fall into a temper and get yourself in trouble. Just behave and I’ll be back before you know it.” And with another kiss and a hug he was gone.
As he’d been packing I’d only been angry about the ball, as the silence of the house closed around me so did the intense loneliness, but quickly that begin to fuel my anger. I didn’t know how to process sadness or loneliness back then, but anger was an old friend and very familiar.
The phone jangled and I rushed to answer it. “Were you fed the same sorry bullshit I just got?” Sue demanded.
“I sure as hell was.” I answered. “I’m so pissed about the ball.”
“You’re pissed–try going as half a Washington!” she yelled.
“Wait a minute,” I told her as a sudden thought came into my head. “You don’t have to be Martha if you don’t want to be. We can dress anyway we want to now.”
Sue was quiet for a moment as what I was saying sank in. Then I could hear the grin in her voice. “I like the way you think.” She told me.
“I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.” I laughed, “We have some shopping to do.”
As the night of the ball rolled around I was absolutely gleeful. I wasn’t far past my ‘I’ll do anything I damn well please’ phase of my life and I suddenly felt that way again. Sue had come over to dress at my house and we were almost ready.
My outfit was perfect. I had purchased a beautiful red wig that fell in a mass of curls down my back. The white halter top tied right under my breast and the tightness of the little shirt gave me the cleavage I was well know for back in the day and the tight, thin material allowed the dusty rose of my nipples to show clearly. I didn’t mind a bit.
My midriff was darkly tanned from the hours I’d spend in the sun. My shinny leather mini skirt began below my navel and ended at a length barely able to cover enough to be legal. This wasn’t many years since the networks had had a fit when Barbara Eden wanted to show her belly button on I Dream of Jennie, but I didn’t have the network to censure and Tom was too busy working to care what I wore. Fishnet stockings and high platform heels completed my outfit. Sue, looking stunning as a blonde was equally inappropriate in her own whores’r us outfit, and we were ready for a night of partying.
We each had an elaborately decorated eye mask and I’d outlined my mouth so differently Sue swore I was unrecognizable. I know she was. While I wanted to go and have a good time I did not need the new look getting back to Tom. We may not have been married long, but I knew enough to know he’d have a stroke if he knew I’d gone out in public this way.
Oh my, we were the hit of the ball. We only had to present the token which had arrive in the invitation, so no one would know the identity of each guest. The crowd actually parted as Sue and I came in. I admit to being an attention whore and I loved every bit of the stares and whispers.
I had all I wanted to drink and neither of us lacked for dancing partners, although I could almost feel the hateful stares coming from nearly every woman there. I was truly in my element when I looked across the room in time to catch Tom’s entrance. He wore the vintage tux, but not his mask. I nearly panicked as he scanned the room. I couldn’t move. I was suddenly terrified of calling attention to myself.
Tom didn’t spot me on his first scan and I carefully began edging to a back entrance. I had to make it to our car and have the driver get me the hell out of there. I was in the hall and nearly to the exit when I heard Tom behind me.
“Moi, no.” I said in a low husky voice.
“Oui, vous.” Tom snapped.
“Tom, honey, it was a joke. That’s all.” Tom could have been deaf for all he was listening to me.
Taking my wrist, rather than my hand, he led me quickly out the door and across the lawn toward his car. He moved so quickly I could barely keep up. “Tom slow down, I begged. These shoes . . .”
Without saying a word Tom stopped, quickly knelt and removed my shoes. In one angry gesture he threw them into the club’s pond, shimmering in the moonlight.
I was silent on the trip home. We’d been married such a short time, I actually expected a screaming match once we arrived and while I wasn’t looking forward to it, I had no doubt I could hold my own. It hadn’t truly sunk into my brain that Tom was not one to yell at his wife. He was a man of action.
Leading me straight to the bedroom, Tom quickly removed my mask and wig, tossing them onto a chair. Then with lightening speed he had my blouse, mini-skirt, garter with the fishnet and my panties off. This was my first experience of being nude while he was still wearing a tux and I’d never felt so vulnerable.
Tom sat on the bed and was in the process of pulling me across his lap before it dawned on my incredibly slow brain that I was about to be spanked.
“NO! Wai . . .” I started, as I tried to fight my way off his lap. I never had a chance. Tom hadn’t begun using the ivory brush yet, but that mattered little. As his hand made contact with my bare rear I yelled bloody murder. I hated being spanked back then. The pain, the loss of control–I fought with everything I had, including my vocabulary. I have to tell you back then I could cuss more fluently than I could speak the King’s English. I cussed the man for everything I was worth.
Tom’s hand has always been hard as a board when he tries. He wasn’t moving around much as he proceeded to nearly blister the crease between bottom and leg. My fighting, yelling, cussing was wearing me out–Tom did not seem to be tiring.
As I quieted for a minute, trying to get my breath, Tom said calmly, “As soon as you’ve finished cussing, this spanking can begin.”
“Tom, dammit! Stop . . .”
“I’m guessing I can out last you, girl.” He told me firmly, “I’d stop now if I were you.”
He was right. With supreme effort I choked back what I wanted to say. As I tried to stay quiet Tom began to talk. Unfortunately, talking didn’t slow Tom’s hand one bit. “You had a beautiful dress to wear tonight, just thinking of you in it made me fly back just to take you to the ball, but instead you go out of your way to be seen in the worse possible way.”
“When are you going to understand you are a lady? I expect you to always speak and present yourself as a lady and so you’ll always be treated as one.”
I was hearing a little of this, very little, and it was probably years down the road before I truly understood what Tom was trying to say to me. Tom was slowing his spanks, yet each was still firmly delivered and I alternated howling and begging him to stop.
When he finally did I was a mess. Tom stood me up and held me against him. “It’s all right, girl. You’re going to be all right.” After a moment I lay on the bed and he the stepped into the bathroom returning with a cool cloth for my face and lotion for my bottom. After applying it gently he lay beside me holding me.
“This is hard for you isn’t it, girl?”
“You knew I wouldn’t want my wife wearing such an outfit in public didn’t you.”
Again I nodded.
“Cassie girl, don’t fight me. Trust me, let me take care of you and protect you. I want to give you the most amazing life–you just need to trust me.”
I’m still amazed by how true his words were, then and now. And he has indeed, given me a most amazing life.