The Brat and the Brainiac Read online

  “I hope so. We’re starting Jimmy, so...”

  Dan Fry, our catcher, yawns.

  “I’m going to finish this one and call it a night.”

  “Yeah, I need to call Miranda.”

  That effectively breaks up the party, so I slam my beer and go up to my room.

  Miranda picks up on the third ring.

  “Hey,” I tell her. “Just me.”

  “Oh, I missed you. How was dinner with your family?”

  “Tedious.”

  “It can’t be that bad,” she says, and I know she’s grinning.

  “You just don’t know. Two of my sisters had snide comments when they heard we’re dating, but the youngest one was cool about it.”

  “How can they be so mean when you turned out so nice?”

  “I don’t know. I stopped downstairs at the bar and had a beer with your uncle.”

  “Oh? How’s he doing?”

  “Still amped-up from hitting that game-winning home run.”

  “I’m so proud of him. I can’t wait until you guys get home.”

  “Two more days, babe. Two more days.”

  “I know. But I’ve been keeping myself busy so I don’t think about it as much.”

  “Good girl.”

  “I think Ignatius and Kevin are getting serious. He spends the night every night and they’re hardly ever apart.”

  “Well, good.”

  “And I got an A on the paper I had to write on Sartre,” she tells me.

  “Oh, God. I had to write a paper on him, too, only I didn’t do so well with it.”

  “My professor says we ought to feel lucky, because he had to read it in French and write about it. The next book we’re doing is ‘On the Road,’ though. It’s a much more fun book.”

  “I almost forgot. I’m bringing you a special treat from Chicago, and if you eat it with a knife and fork, I’ll break all your fingers off.”

  She laughs.

  “You must feel pretty strongly about it. What is it?”

  “An Italian Beef sandwich.”

  “How are you getting that home?”

  “Well, I went to my favorite place to see if they can pack a couple in dry ice for me and they can. They said they do it all the time.”

  “Yum. Sounds yummy.”

  I notice she’s been avoiding the subject of her upcoming spanking, but I want to build her anticipation, so I bring it up.

  “Don’t forget about your punishment.”

  “I know. I already have the hairbrush in my purse. Don’t spank me too hard, okay?”

  “I want you to wear jeans that day.”

  “How come?”

  “So I can make you pull them down yourself.”

  Her breathing changes, and I know she’s both turned on and fearful.

  “But wait.”

  “You’re going over my knee the minute we get to my place, and you’re going to learn your education is the most important thing you have to do.”

  “I promise not to get any more bad grades.”

  “I know you won’t.” She’s quiet on her end, and I know I’ve achieved my objective, so I say, “You do know you deserve it, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  I find myself nodding.

  “Okay, then,” I tell her. “I’m looking forward to coming home.”

  “Me, too, except for...you know.”

  “I know, baby, but we’ll get it over pretty quickly, and then we’ll have some fun.”

  “Sexy fun?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  Though I was a couple thousand miles away from her, I was pretty certain she was smiling again.

  “You’re not mad at me, then?”

  “Of course not. Don’t be silly, Miranda.”

  “Okay. Call me tomorrow. I...miss you.”

  I hear it again, the strain in her voice as she tries not to declare her love, the same strain I feel, too, every time we speak. I hang up the phone, unable to stop smiling, because I know she loves me, and I love her, too.

  The next day flies by. Get-away day is always hectic, and today is no exception. When we’re finally all on the bus, I sit back, my cooler of Italian Beef sandwiches and my bag of presents beside me.

  Tommy sits in the seat across the aisle from me.

  “Are all those for Miranda?” he asks.

  “Yep.”

  “When are you giving them to her? Am I going to get even five minutes with her when we get home?”

  “Yeah. Take as much time as you need.”

  “I don’t know if I like this as much as I thought I would,” he tells me. “I guess I never thought about the practicalities.”

  My heart goes out to him.

  “Look, Tommy, I’m not trying to replace you in her heart. She just means everything to me.”

  “You got a ring in that bag?” he asks me.

  “No. It’s too soon. I’m with you when you say she has to graduate college first.”

  “Well, that’s good,” he says, sitting back and uncrossing his arms. “I just love her, is all. She’s the kind of kid who gets under your skin.”

  “Yeah,” I tell him, “but she’s not a kid anymore.”

  His face clouds over when I say that. It’s obviously something he’s been wrestling with, maybe even losing.

  “I don’t remember why I even wanted her to have a husband.”

  “She told me it was so I’d put the screws to her, to keep her on the straight and narrow.”

  “Do you think you can do it?”

  “I know I can,” I say, thinking about the spanking l have to administer as soon as we get home.

  When we pull up on the bus, Miranda’s there waiting in the parking lot with a couple of the other wives and girlfriends who’ve come to pick up their men. She breaks off the conversation she’s having with one of them and comes over to me and Tommy.

  “I couldn’t take it anymore,” she tells us. “I had to see you guys right away.”

  She goes over and hugs her uncle and kisses him on the cheek first, and then she comes back to me.

  “I’ll follow you home,” she tells me. “I’m not going to want to leave my car here.”

  “What time are you coming home?” asks Tommy, starting away to go get his own car.

  “I don’t know. I might have to spend the night.”

  “We’ve got a game tomorrow night at seven,” he tells her.

  “I know,” she says. “I’ll be home way in time to see you.”

  He gives her a silent wave and walks off.

  “Want a ride to your car?” she offers.

  “Yeah. It’s over there.”

  I hop into her little car, and she drives me over to my car.

  “You still got the hairbrush?” I ask her.

  She glances at me, but all she does is nod. She lets me out and waits while I stow my stuff in the trunk, ready to follow me home.

  My condo is stuffy from being closed up for two weeks. I set the bag of presents on the coffee table, and then I place the cooler with the sandwiches down on the counter so I can unpack them. The dry ice is still cold, so I know they made it. I glance up and she’s snooping around in the handled shopping bag.

  “That’s for later,” I tell her. “For now, you can get that brush out of your purse and go stand in the corner until I’m done unpacking.”

  She pouts her way into the corner, but she obeys, so I’m happy with it. I take my suitcase into the bedroom and start unpacking, hanging up the clean clothes and sorting the laundry out on the floor. When I’m done, I take the laundry into the laundry room and start a load of colors. I take my sweet time getting all this done, just to prolong the suspense for a little while longer, and then, when there’s nothing else to do, I go back out to the living room.

  I go to the dining area and take a straight-backed chair from the table, and then I set up a snack tray next to it so I have someplace to set the hairbrush down. I also have a bath brush I brought from the bathroom
and I set it down, too. I sit down in the chair and slap my knees.

  “Well,” I tell her. “I guess it’s time.”

  She turns from the corner, apprehension in her eyes. She brings me the hairbrush without my even asking her to, and she puts it down on the snack tray beside the bath brush.

  She looks frightened when she sees it, and her glance shoots to mine.

  “Yep,” I tell her. “I’m going to finish you off with the bath brush. Come on. Come over.”

  She obediently comes and drapes herself over my lap and I spend a couple of minutes rubbing her bottom and thighs. The denim is soft beneath my hands and Miranda’s breathing heavier than usual. Finally, I pat her bottom.

  “Ready?” I ask her.

  Her braids jiggle when she nods, and I rear back and smack her firmly. My hand makes a loud pop when it hits her jeans, and she jerks her foot up.

  “Feet down,” I tell her.

  I smack her again on the other cheek and feel her muscles tense. I know she’s trying hard to lie still, and I appreciate that, but it’s not going to stop me from doing what I need to do.

  I swat her rear a few more times, and I can feel the denim starting to heat up. She squirms every time I hit her, but so far she’s kept her feet down like I told her to. I want to see if she can do that when we peel back a layer, so I tell her to get up and pull down her pants.

  “How far?”

  “Down to your knees.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “Yes.”

  She hesitates, and I know she hates this. I sit there tapping my foot while she tries to decide what to do, and when I’ve had enough of her fooling around, I drag her closer and unbutton her jeans.

  “Get them down. Now.”

  This time, she cooperates. She takes her jeans all the way down to her knees and then she comes back over my lap. Conveniently enough, she’s wearing thong panties, and I see that her butt’s already a pretty shade of pink.

  I waste no time in resuming the spanking, she’s feeling it for real, and is twisting her feet together in an effort to keep them on the floor.

  “Why are you getting this spanking, Miranda?”

  “For getting that C-.”

  “What grades are acceptable?”

  “A’s and B’s.”

  “That’s right. Good. You already know, so I don’t have to tell you. Unfortunately, that also means you broke the rules on purpose.”

  “No, I—”

  “Shh. Did you do your best?”

  “No, sir.”

  A bolt shoots through my heart to hear her call me ‘sir’ and I know I’m getting to her. I stop spanking her with my hand then and sit back to admire my handiwork. Her bottom’s nice and pink and covered with handprints. My hand’s a little sore, so I pick up the hairbrush and announce it’s now time for the brush.

  She grips my ankle in preparation. I’m so hard it’s not even funny, but there’s time enough to attend to that later. I bring the brush down with a loud pop and she lets out a cry. I do it again on the other side with the same result.

  “What is your number one priority?”

  “College, sir.”

  “How would your uncle feel if you flunked out?”

  “Pretty mad.”

  The brush is already marking her butt, and I can feel her trying not to cry, trying to hold it all in and lie still over my lap to show her obedience.

  “If we stay together, do you think I want a dumb girlfriend?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then what are you going to do from now on?”

  “Study harder.”

  I stop spanking her with the hairbrush, but I know I have to finish her off in a big way, so I set the brush down and grab the long-handled bath brush.

  It’s much heavier than the hairbrush, and bigger, too. It’s going to be a harsh lesson for her, but one she won’t soon forget.

  “Get up and pull down your panties.”

  “No, please?”

  “Just do it.”

  She pulls them down to her knees like her jeans and gets over my lap one final time. I take a deep breath and let it out, and she does, too.

  “This is going to hurt a lot,” I tell her, “and I’m going to bruise your butt to remind you of your responsibilities.”

  She remains quiet, and I take that as permission to begin.

  “Ow!” she screams with the first blow.

  “Not so loud. Or do I have to gag you?”

  “No, sir.”

  I give her another and this time she holds her free hand over her mouth to muffle her scream. Her butt’s starting to turn a little purple, and I know she’ll definitely have a couple of bruises for the next few days.

  “Hold your mouth shut, because I’m going to give you four more.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I wait until she’s situated, and then I start in, spanking mercilessly, bringing the brush down fast and hard. She screams into her hand and thrashes around quite a bit, but all in all, she behaves very well.

  I set the brush down on the tray and allow her to get up. She’s sobbing piteously, and I really feel sorry for her, but I know we’re not finished yet.

  “Have you ever been switched?” I ask her, thinking of a kid who grew up next door and regularly got it with a switch.

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, if I have to speak to you about this again, you will be.”

  She sniffles and finishes buttoning her jeans, and then she just stands there, indecisive.

  “Bring me a tissue and come here,” I tell her, holding out my arms. “Come here and let me hold you.”

  She climbs up and sits on my lap, clasping her arms around my neck. I wipe her face and kiss away her tears, and then I just cuddle her for a while.

  “Oh, God, I missed you so much,” I tell her.

  “I missed you, too, Jason.”

  “Well, I’m back now, and I brought presents.”

  She slides down off my lap and gives me a watery smile.

  “For me?”

  “Of course, silly. Who else? Go stand over there by the counter and I’ll bring them to you.”

  She practically skips into the kitchen, and I bring the handled bag in and dump it out on the tiles in front of her.

  “Oh, pretty,” she says, distracted by the bow and gift-wrapping of the big one. “Should I save this one for last?”

  “No. Go ahead and open it.”

  She detaches the bow carefully and sets it aside, and then she rips into the paper like a kid at Christmas. When she sees the nightgown, a big grin crosses her face.

  “For me?” she asks, holding it up. “But won’t it show my—”

  “No. Don’t say it. I don’t give a damn about that scar, Miranda. It doesn’t make you any less beautiful to me.”

  “For real?”

  “Yes. Now go try it on and let’s see it.”

  She snatches it and the panties up and runs into my bedroom with them. A few minutes later, she emerges, and man, does she look hot. She tiptoes into the room and does a pirouette for me.

  “Like it?”

  “I love it. Come here and let me look at you.”

  I want to kiss her, so I do. She returns the kiss with fervor, taking my head in her hands and disturbing my glasses. I pull away and set them on the counter, and then I dive back in to kiss her again. She jams her body up close to mine and she feels so warm and alive I can’t help it anymore. I tell her I love her, and then I tell her again.

  “I love you, too, Jason. I thought I was going to die while you were gone.”

  “It’s going to be a rough season then, because we have eleven more road trips. A couple of them are pretty short, though. Plus, there’s a break for the All-Stars, so maybe I’ll fly you out to New York.”

  “Oh, my God, I haven’t been out to New York in ages. Can we go to the Guggenheim Museum? Uncle Tommy would never take me. It’s not his kind of thing.”

  “We’ll do whatever makes yo
u happy. Now come here. I have one more present for you, and I think you’ll like it.”

  This time she opens the paper slowly and reverently. When she finally gets it peeled away, she flips open the jewelers’ box and gasps.

  “Oh, I love it. You didn’t have to do that. Oh, look. Pink tourmaline. That’s one of my favorite stones.”

  “I figured.”

  “Help me put it on.”

  “It won’t catch on anything while we make love?”

  This arrests her attention and she dimple-smiles.

  “Is that what we’re going to do?”

  “Unless you had other plans.”

  “Me? No. Just let me try it on for five minutes and then I’ll take it off.”

  “All right. Knock yourself out.”

  She walks around the condo, admiring her new bracelet in all kinds of light and calling me to come admire it with her. When she’s finally satisfied, she lets me unclasp it and put it back into its box.

  “That was fun,” she tells me, and I draw her into my arms.

  “I know something else that’s fun. Come into the bedroom with me.”

  I take her hand and lead her in. She helps me pull back the covers and waits patiently while I strip down to my underpants, and then we both climb in bed and throw our arms around each other.

  “We’ll have to be careful about my sore bottom,” she tells me. “I’ll have to ride you.”

  “Sounds fine to me.”

  She lets go of me and gets onto her knees to pull my underwear off, and then she sighs when she sees my cock for the first time. She seems pleased by the general size and shape of it, and shimmies out of her panties to climb on top of me.

  “Oh, God,” I whisper, when she helps me enter her. “You feel so Goddamned good.”

  She starts riding me, her pussy squeezing me with every stroke. I masturbated earlier so I wouldn’t come too fast, but this woman’s too much. I don’t know how long I can last with her on top of me.

  How long can she last, either? I realize she’s going faster now, that she’s close to orgasm herself, so I hang on desperately to let her come before I do. She stiffens on top of me and throws her head back, moaning, her breasts jutting out in front of me. I take it as an invitation to grab a handful, and I knead her tits while she recovers from her orgasm. Once she’s back from La La Land, she grabs onto my wrists and starts fucking me again while I play with her breasts.