Balance
By Jonathan Quincy Graves
She is beautiful, trim and petite, barely five-foot-one. He is handsome, six-foot-four, broad shouldered and solid. She studied ballet in high school and college. He was an all-state linebacker. She became a doctor, specializing in pediatrics—a sweet angel of comfort to the children in her care. He runs his own construction company, spending as much time in the field as he can—swinging a hammer, erecting steel, pouring concrete.
When on the town, she wears designer gowns that float around her, and her flawless skin smells of the rarest flowers. He is impeccably but comfortably dressed and his callused hands and weathered countenance are of leather and spiced woods.
She is at all times graceful and feminine. He is a man’s man.
They are an unlikely couple until you see them together. At social gatherings or charity events—which they often attend and frequently sponsor—they dote on each other. He is always the perfect gentleman, opening her doors, carrying her loads; she the lissome helpmate who brings him the choicest tidbits from the buffet, fills his glass with champagne, initially, and sparkling cider as the evenings progress.
Married for twelve years, they are still deeply in love, and it is obvious to all.
Their home is spacious and open, with plenty of light. He has a den he uses to spread out and study building plans, or just sit back in his comfortable, leather chair and enjoy a single malt and a cigar. She has a study connected to the master bedroom, but the door is always locked. She prefers to review case files and medical journals in the small breakfast nook where the light is excellent, the teapot always handy, and where she can gaze out over the garden while she ponders.
On special occasions, or when the necessity arises, she pulls out the only key to her study—it amuses her to keep it in a pocket of a lacy garter worn high on a silky thigh—unlocks the door, and usher him, fresh from his shower, through the door ahead of her.
There, under dramatic lighting, are all the furnishings she requires: a solid oak desk with a matching chair, a padded bench with built-in restraints, a heavy-duty pulley system bolted to the beams overhead, all designed and constructed to hold his weight and control his strength.
It is in her study, once or twice a month, that she spanks, paddles, straps and switches him until he weeps and pleads like a little boy—her little boy. She calls it: “Balance.”
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Copyright © 2006 by Jonathan Quincy Graves. All right reserved. Please do not repost or use for any commercial purpose without written approval from the author.