This short story is an entry in the 2002 Soc.Sexuality.Spanking Summer Short Story Contest and is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice. The author would appreciate your comments
Category: Adult
Click
By
"To: Chl34325@hotmail.com"
"Subject: About Us."
Not exactly what he wants, but he can always go back and change it.
"Hi Chloe, Last night was so terrific. Our six-week anniversary (see, even guys can get sentimental). I can't wait to see you again Friday."
He stops. It doesn't sound right at all. Too eager? Too phony? Or is it just that he is still leaving out the truth: yes he wants to see her again and again, but he cannot bring himself to write what he most desires, to spank her. Oh, to be able to tell her that he dreams of her draped over his lap, hearing her little moaning cry each time his hand makes contact, seeing the cleft peach of her bottom turning deep pink, and afterwards they kiss and make love and lie together and talk and laugh. He imagines a scenea Victorian drawing room. She has lowered herself over the rounded arm of a plush sofa, her skirts raised, her drawers at her thighs, and now she waits in nervous anticipation as he stands admiring her beauty, her submission. He taps the dark wood hairbrush against his palm.
If he told her, she would certainly have nothing more to do with him. That thought is too horrid. Still, he cannot get the new fantasy out of his mind. It might do for the haiku contest on s.s.s. Syllables, lines, begin to form in his mind, divert his thoughts. The screen still shows the beginnings of his lame message to Chloe. He holds the mouse button down, blocks the text and deletes.
He concentrates on the haiku. Trickier than it looks, this short form; damn clever those Japanese. After some false starts and touch-ups, he has one on the screen.
Victorian room
Girl bare, round bottom raised waits.
Hairbrush taps on palm.
Then another:
Which sound is louder --
The paddle on your bottom.
Or my heart pounding?
Good enough, he thinks. Maybe someone will even post a comment. He counts the syllables one more time. Then clicks send.
As soon as he has clicked, he realizes, but it's too late. The message has gone. Panic washes hotly over him. «Your message has been sent to Chl34325@hotmail.com». He stares at the screen, tries in his mind to move backward in time, to und, to change the address, the subject. If only, if only . . . . Cursing all computers, he clicks to shut down. Goes to his job.
* * * *
Midnight. He finally logs on, feels the panic once again.
One new message: "About Haiku."
He points and clicks.
The End
© Copyright Summer, 2002
Reviews
Tami <tamishy(at)webtv(dot)net>
Be careful what you wish for.....and I do hope you get it. Quite original I thought and amusing as well. Does leave the reader (practically) begging for more. like any good story should. Excellent Job.
Mary Catherine <marycatherine(at)saintfrancis-sfg(dot)net>
This story really clicked for me, no pun intended. It was tight and extremely well-written. I thought it really captured the feeling writing email often gives, that you can say things that you want to say, but can never seem to articulate in spoken words.
Sarah Nada <circler73(at)hotmail(dot)com>
Click takes place online and in the narrator's imagination, which makes it especially appropriate for the SSC. I'm sure a lot of us can relate to the main character's dilemma, and the ending is wonderfully ambiguous. (The haiku is pretty charming too.)
Steve <steve(at)circuslights(dot)com>
This one is very clever. It tries to combine numerous things I like and I can identify with - and mostly succeeds.
We've all done it - hit reply to an email, without checking who the recipient is...