TOM
This little girl has a flair for the dramatic. Maybe she’s trying to warn me. Or maybe this is just a very dramatic way for a small woman to make herself look bigger. Physically, she’s on the smaller side. And I know from Ken and from her that she’s a journalist. It’s really hard to believe that she poses anyone any danger at all.
Regardless, I listen.
“So you’re afraid people will come looking for you here?”
“I’m afraid that I have some heavy karma coming my way, and I don’t want more people involved than have to be.”
“Well, I’ll deal with that as and when it happens.”
“You’re not equipped to deal with anything,” she smirks.
I feel my palms tingle. If you ask me, this girl is begging for a spanking. A good, long, over the knee butt warming. That would settle her down nicely. But she’s my brother’s lover. And my guest. And I don’t spank girls who don’t ask for it very, very nicely.
* * *
Seven days later…
“Mary!”
“What?”
“Can you put your wrappers in the trash, please?”
“Huh? Oh yeah. Sure,” she says, going right back to watching the television, turning the volume up to drown out the vacuum which I’m pushing around the room in a futile attempt to get my place looking like something other than a bomb site.
Ken didn’t send her here to laze around and mess up my house. He sent her here to keep her out of trouble. She’s not technically in trouble - not with anyone but me, that is.
It’s quickly apparent that Mary does whatever Mary wants, whenever Mary wants. The hours she keeps are atrocious. She’s up until the small hours of the morning and I’m sure I haven’t seen her up before mid-day any day this week.
She refuses to talk to Ken, which works out because Ken’s more busy and less available than he has ever been. That area of the world is hot as hell right now. I’m worried for him, to be honest. I’ve been worried about him since he was born though. Perpetual big brother, that’s me.
“Can you move your legs, please?”
“Huh?”
“Can you move your legs?” I raise my voice over vacuum and television, feeling like I’m picking up after a rebellious teenage daughter.
“Do I need to assign you chores, little girl?”
She smirks and rolls her eyes. “You want me to clean? I’ll clean.”
“Yes, I want you to clean.”
“Okay. No problem. I’ll do it later.”
“You’ll do it now.”
She looks up from her computer with an impressive scowl on her pretty face. “I’m busy now.”
“Busy doing what?”
“None of your business.” She closes the laptop.
I get the impression she’s testing me. Or maybe punishing me. For looking like Ken. But I’m not Ken, I and deal with problems differently.
“Mary, you’re very welcome here,” I say. “But you’re going to have to start helping out too. You’re a grown woman. You know better than to leave a mess around for someone else to clean up.”
“You know what,” she says, taking immediate offense. “You’re condescending as hell.”
God this girl needs a spanking. A really good, long, hard spanking. Pants down for sure. Maybe not on the bare, but definitely over her underwear. It’s not even a sexual thing. She needs bringing in line. Badly. But it’s not my place. Ken is going to have his work cut out for him when he gets back. In the meantime, I guess I’m going to be vacuuming twice a day.