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From: "David Davo Nunes da Silva" <87cuow602@sneakemail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Katherine and Johnny 2/2 {David Nunes da Silva} (fmM bd cons 1st hist)
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Date: Tue,  4 Jan 2005 21:10:03 -0500
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{ASSM} Katherine and Johnny 2/2 {David Nunes da Silva} (fmM bd cons 1st
hist)

Katherine and Johnny
by David Nunes da Silva
1968.    San Francisco.
-----------------------------------------
IX.   BOURRÉE: tenor
Johnny knocked on the door, very lightly.   Nothing happened.

He sat down to wait.    Kath would need to leave for school in twenty
minutes.  She should be awake, but her parents probably were not, and
it seemed they slept in the main room.   So perhaps she heard his light
tap, but could not answer.   He should not have come so soon - what was
he thinking?  That she would want him there while she got dressed?
Walking to school with her was more than he had any right to ask for.

The misery settled on him.   Last night he had used up his remaining 40
spanks - they had eased the pain a little.   But he knew now that
spanking himself was no substitute for being punished by someone who
loved him.   But there was no such person.

He heard an alarm clock go off.   Kath getting up, ten minutes before
she would need to leave for school - she must dress quickly and skip
breakfast.   He settled in to wait for her.   But he could not resist
tapping on the door again.

Katherine came out naked, with her clothes in her hands.  They looked
at each other.   Not having her was more misery than he could bear.
She looked miserable as well.   Johnny looked at the floor as she
dressed.

He had signed in blood that he would ask her.   "Katherine, may I walk
to school with you."

"If we're both going from here to school, we'll be going together."

Well that was as much as he had expected.   Now for the hard part.
"Katherine, I did my history homework.   I couldn't sleep.   I know it
is all wrong.   Do you suppose - do I have your permission - to ask
your Dad to look at it?  To ask him to give me a lick for each wrong
answer?"

"Johnny, Daddie can hardly read.   I have to read the newspaper for
him, and tell him if there is anything he needs to know."

"I guess I didn't realize that.   My dad is the same.  Well, he can
read OK.   His uncle kept him on the fishing boat until he was 17 -
he's never gone to school at all, but they taught him a little in the
Army before they sent him to Korea.  He keeps saying he'll go to
school, but he's too busy for that.   He's too busy for a lot of
things."

"Daddie could read your homework; he could sound out the words, slowly.
But he knows nothing about American history - nothing at all.  I
doubt if he knows who's president."

"So I guess it won't work, then.   And there's nobody else.  Nobody who
would even know the answers, except you of course."

"Do you want me to do it for you Johnny?    Do you want me to read your
homework, tell you your mistakes, help you with history?"

He did not answer for some time.   He squeezed his fingernails into the
back of his left hand.   "No, Kath.  You can't help me by telling me
the answers, that's not the problem."

"Mr. Reskin will read my homework.  He'll tell me my mistakes.   The
answers are in the back of the book, anyway.   He's offered to help me,
but he can't.  No one can.   Kath, I showed you my discipline book.
On a lot of the pages, my resolution is - do my history homework.   And
a lot of times there is an X.  I resolved to do it.  I promised myself
spanks for not doing it.    But in spite of all that, I didn't do it.
And my spanks really hurt.  The spanks I give myself, haven't worked,
and they're not going to work.   I think the only thing that will work
is if someone who cares about me, will punish me.   I know we can't be
together, when I'm such a shit-head and you're you, but if only you
cared about me a little, and could do that, then I might not be such a
shit-head forever.   I know I have no right to ask."

Katherine fainted.   She toppled over like a bowling pin.

Johnny slapped her, something he'd seen in a movie.   She didn't say,
thanks I needed that, but she did recover.   They were now quite late.
They ran down to the street.  He was on the track team; he found he
had to hold back, to keep from sprinting away from her; he took her
hand, and they ran together, a little faster than she could run on her
own.   He didn't want to be the cause of Kath getting any demerits.

Her hand in his reminded him of something, but he couldn't tell what.
As if it had all happened before.   Or perhaps that it would happen
again - running hand in hand, feet pounding the ground.

They were late, and the hall monitor reported them both.  That meant a
demerit mark, an "8", on their next report cards.   Every boy in
school, except Johnny and one or two others, got whipped at home for
every 8, and for bad grades too.   Maybe the girls too, but it was the
boys who talked, complaining about how strict their dads were - but
boasting about whose dad whipped hardest.  "I seen Billy get a lickin'
and his ma just uses this little tiny strap that wouldn't hurt nobody
and Billy was all crying and jumping all over the place."  "Yeah, well
your dad only gives you one stroke for an 8 - my ma gives me five!"
What they called an 8 was a numbered paragraph on the report cards,
which merely said, "(8) Conduct could be better."   It was the mildest
level of bad conduct mark.   Soft teachers, who would never have hit a
child, passed out 8s like candy, not knowing or not caring that each
one meant a bruised bottom.   But the parents were angry at the
school-board for abolishing corporal punishment, and they responded by
whipping more at home - often, at least the boys, in public.    Johnny
was there when his friend Harry Insman was whipped on his bare ass in
front of his friends and his little brother.  Harry didn't make a
sound, and his dad said he took it like a man.   Little Marcus was
impressed: he wanted to be a man, too.  But afterwards, talking to
Johnny, Harry had cried like a baby - he said the 8 hadn't even been
his fault.   And he hated it that Marky had been allowed to watch.
Their dad, a defense lawyer, wouldn't even listen to Harry's side of
the story.
The day after report cards, the best-whipped boys were popular for a
day, and after showers in gym they let other boys look.   Harry's black
butt didn't make the best show, but it felt like corduroy - "White dads
don't know squat about whippin'," he said.  Other than Johnny, Saul
Levin was the other boy skulking in the corner of the locker room on
those days; his grandmother - he was an orphan - also didn't believe in
spanking.  But Saul was terrified of his grandmother's scoldings.  A
boy couldn't admit being afraid of a licking, certainly not a licking
from his granny!   But the whole school laughed at Saul - the way he
said: "Bubbi will kill me if she finds out."     As far as Johnny knew,
Saul never got any 8s - too afraid of his Granny.   But everyone knew
that Johnny's report cards were bad.  And they knew his ass didn't have
a mark on it, the day after report cards were given out..

Johnny's parents had never even spoken to him about his report card.

Since Kath - since he started his discipline book - he hadn't earned
any 8s, until today.   But there was a report card a month after he
started the book, and he had spanked himself for the 8s - the ones he
had earned before starting the book.    He did it in the morning,
before school, so the marks would be fresh.  In gym, Harry had demanded
a feel.  "Wow, Johnny, your Dad really plasters you.   Do you get it
for a C?   My dad's rotten, but he usually let's me slide unless it's a
D."   Johnny didn't lie, but he had looked away, as if he was ashamed.
Actually, he was crying.

Of course Kath would get a belting for the 8, and of course it was his
fault.   A million spanks wouldn't make up for that.

They went to their classes.  They didn't have a class together until
English, fourth period.   But when fourth period came Kath wasn't
there.   Betsy Azerkarian told him that Kath had cried all morning, and
then went to the school nurse, to ask permission to go home, but didn't
get it.  She had just walked out of school.   Johnny put his English
homework on Mr. Alvarez's desk, and ran out the door, covering the
distance to Kath's house in about half the time they had taken that
morning.

When he got to the door he could hear a belt hitting skin, so he tried
the handle.  It wasn't locked.  Mr. Ramsay had his belt in his hand;
his pants were starting to fall down.   Kath was bent over the table,
naked, her ass and legs a horrible sight.

"Whatever it is, it is my fault ... Sir."

Katherine said: "It isn't Johnny's fault.   None of it is his fault."

"You will have to work that out between ye.   But if the boy wants half
he shall have them."

Johnny dropped his pants and underpants, his penis right in Katherine's
upturned face.     Katherine turned away.   "You have to face the wall,
Johnny."

Her Daddie said: "Don't come the cunt wi' me, hizzie."

Johnny didn't look away.   Katherine had to stand up, and Johnny stared
at her cunt when she did.  She glared at him.  Then he bent over the
table in her place.

This time, the strokes of the belt came without any sort of warm-up,
and they hurt like ten kinds of fire.   Nothing had gone right today,
or ever would again.   Except right now he was taking strokes that
would have been hers.    The first six were across his bottom.   Then
Daddy made him strip naked, and stretch across the table, with his legs
straight back, toes on the seat of the couch, feet far apart.   Johnny
never minded being seen naked, but it was humiliating to have his body
treated this way, as an object to be manipulated into position so it
could be beaten.  Daddie stood next to his left ankle.   The belt
landed the length of the thigh from the top of the buttock down to a
bit above the back of the knee - the tip crossed the six existing
welts.   This really hurt - even more than the first six - but he knew
that each hit counted as only half a stroke.   And Daddie whipped very
slowly, slow enough that Johnny tasted fear in his mouth, and felt it
pounding in his chest.  The taste was salt and bitter, a bit like
Kath's cunt.  But nothing could be sweeter than strokes taken for her.
After six strokes to the left cheek and down the leg, Daddie stepped
over to stand between his legs, and gave the right leg its share of the
fun.

"Next should come some licks on the legs, Johnny.   But I mind my
Daddie used to wrap my balls, like a turks head, in case of accidents,
and I don't know how to do it.   So I'll have you put your legs
together."   Johnny put them together, and Daddie hit six more strokes
across his thighs.   These didn't hurt as much as the ones up and down
his legs.

"Get away to the kitchen with ye, Johnny.   Ye too, hizzie."

Katherine lay on her side, on a thin pad, under the kitchen table.
Johnny lay on the floor, next to her, not touching:  "What were we
whipped for?"

"Cutting school.   He knows we had sexual intercourse.   I heard Mither
tell him she'd given us the box of johnnies.  But he hasn't whipped me
for that at all.  And he sent us in here together - I know he thinks
we're going to do it.  He hasn't even told me not to.  He doesn't know
that you ... I don't understand it ... - he used to whip me if I even
talked to a boy.   I guess, well I guess he likes you - a lot.   A
whole lot."

"I like him."

"Why did you come here, Johnny?"

"To take your whipping."

"You don't have to do that."

"Kath!"

They didn't speak for some time.   Then Johnny mumbled something under
his breath.
"What's that?"

"Nothing."

"Johnny.   Tell me!"

"Well, it's...  It's my limerick.  The one I was working on last night
for the contest.   I worked it out during the beating."

"Say it again."

A sentry at Buckingham Palace,
caught a nude S.N.P.er named Alice.
They asked how he got
the drop on the Scot:
"Oh, this isn't a gun!  It's my phallus."

"I was working last night on 'phallus,' 'Alice,' and 'malice.'   I
don't know why - there's nothing Scottish about them.   Then running
over here I thought of 'palace.'  I tried 'Holyrood Palace.'   But
during the beating I thought I would try putting the Scottish part in
the two short lines.  "Buckingham Palace" has better scansion.    So it
came together - but it wasn't very Scottish.  Then just now I thought
of putting in the SNP part in the second line - I had 'apprehended a
nudist named Alice' before."   Still not very funny, but good enough, I
think.   I would have entered it in the contest."

Katherine said: "Johnny, do you have your history homework?"

Johnny took a folded paper from his pocket.   Katherine opened it.

"Why was it important to Grant to capture Vicksburg?  ::  Vicksburg
belonged to Mr. Vick, who founded it.   Grant needed to capture it so
he would have it and so the other guys wouldn't."

Katherine said: "Scansion."    Then she said: "Johnny, where is
Holyrood Palace?"

"In Scotland."

"But where?  What part - what city?"

"I don't know - I just know it's in Scotland."

Katherine said: "O.K.  I will do it."

"Do what?"

"I'll do what you asked for this morning - punish you for your homework
mistakes.  But you must swear to accept the punishment I give."

"I don't need to swear that - I would be thrilled to be punished."

"Swear - or I won't do it."

Johnny cut his arm with a kitchen knife, and put a bloody fingerprint
on a bit of paper.   "Do I need to write what I'm swearing?"

Katherine shook her head, and put the paper in her pocket.

Johnny was grinning: "Kath, I really appreciate this."

"Here is your first punishment then, for Mr. Vick of Vicksburg, and the
rest of your homework answers, every single one of which is wrong.   Go
tell Daddie you will be giving me a belting, and come back here and
give me one.   Six strokes.

"You mean you give me six strokes."

Katherine took the paper with the bloody fingerprint out of her pocket.
"You will do as I say."

"Or you'll take a slipper to me?"

"Or I'll make you take a slipper to me."

"You can't make me do this."

"I think I can."

"I can't do it, Katherine."

"Johnny Maria, I have given you a punishment.  You will accept it,
right now, right away, with no argument, or I will tear this useless
bloody paper in two.   I am starting to tear."

"No!   I'll do it.   I'll do it.  I'm going.   Mr. Ramsay - Daddie?
Katherine has been naughty, and I need to take my belt to her.  I hope
you do not mind, Sir."

"The lass has just had a licking.   Ye had better let me give her what
she needs.   And you so moonin' over her yer nae likely hit hard
enough."

"She needs to know that I will whip her when she misbehaves.   Do I
need to be careful whipping her on top of the welts you gave her?"

"Aye.   That ye do.   There's a bit of skill to it - and ye've had no
lickin' from yer Daddie.   Ye lay in all bummlin' and she'll maybe go
bleeding on ye.   Ye best have her spread her legs, and whip on the
backs of them."

"Thank you, Sir.    Can you show me?  It will be easy enough to put
some cloth to protect my testicles."   Johnny took his pants off again,
and used them folded between his legs like a loincloth - layers of
cloth providing lots of protection.  He took the position with his legs
spread apart.  Daddie wedged the cloth of his pants securely into his
buttcrack.

"I'll just give ye one lightly, so you can see how it's done."

"Please Sir, six very hard - that's what I'll be giving Kath."

The belt wrapped around his leg so the tip smacked the inside of his
thigh.  It was staggeringly painful, especially the tip.  The inside
thigh where the tip hit was exquisitely sensitive.   It felt like an
ice pick - Johnny thought he felt blood trickle down.  By the sixth one
he was in a sort of trance, looking down from above at his own body - a
boy getting a whipping.   Then Daddie went around to do the other leg.
Johnny watched him, but it was as if he was tunnel blind - he could
only see a little straight ahead; a red haze clouded his vision.  His
heart raced, and he had a feeling like this can't be happening - things
as awful as this just didn't happen.  He wanted to run away - wanted to
shout "STOP" but he couldn't move a muscle - as if his tongue wasn't
connected to his brain.   He was deaf - with blood pounding in his ears
he could not hear the strokes.  He lay still for a while after it was
over, until his heart started to beat and his brain started to work
again.   The other belting, on his bottom, had really hurt, but while
it was happening he had been able to work on his limerick - it
distracted him.   This was a different level of pain altogether.   He
couldn't imagine even thinking of something else while it was
happening.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Johnny, how'd ye get these scars on yer erse?   I took a bit of Hitler
bomb in my leg, but no such scars as ye have.   It looks like someone
skelped ye with a chunk of jagged pavement."

"I fell off my skateboard."

"That was a bad fall."

"I was going downhill.  I bounced the rest of the way down on my ass.
I was skateboarding naked."

"I mind in Glesgie we'd whip our peeries - that's a top - across the
tram lines, with the tramcar comin'!   I was right scauret, but the
other lads - ah I was afeart ta dinna - if ye see.   And go in the scud
too - we'd go in the scud at canal.  Lollin' on t' banks.   I'd get
skelpt for it, but I couldna be the only lad who wouldna.   And the
lassies 'd look - and behind the dustbins a lass let us keek up her
skirt wi' her knickers doon.   You had go wi' wha' a' t' other lads
go."

"I was alone - no one dared me to do it.   There wasn't a girl to watch
me skate naked.  But I was scared of that one hill.   So I had to do
it.   When I got out of the hospital I tried again."

"You go on back to yer lassie - don't keep her waiting for a lickin'.
It's nae fair to her."

Johnny hurried back to the kitchen, carrying his pants.   Katherine was
naked, bent over the kitchen table for a belting.   He grabbed her,
pulled her up, and started licking and nuzzling her teats, and he
grabbed her whipped ass.  She barked from the pain as he sunk his
fingers in.   "Spank me!" she shouted.   He slapped with one hand,
still hugging her with the other, and pressing his face hard into hers.
The swats, or the kiss, rammed the hardness into his cock, with a
pounding, urgent insistence that demanded his attention.  It was poking
into her, and she took it in her hand and began to guide it in.

"No, I'm too close, I'm too close," he shouted, and pulled away from
her, pinching the tip of his poker.   "Too late!   Ahh Ahh Ahh Ah oh
dear Ah Ahh-a oh fuck."   A small white glob spilled out on the kitchen
floor.   Another drop slowly oozed out from his drooping stalk, and
hung down about six inches, like snot.

"You pumped a half-cupfull on mither's apron, Johnny - do you like
getting spanks more than giving them?"

"Pitiful, isn't it.   I guess it shows the importance of a hearty
breakfast and a good night's sleep.   Coach always says it improves
performance."

"So it isn't that you don't like spanking me?"

"I adore spanking you.   If you like it we can do it every time - if -
I mean - if there were going to be any more times.    But if you wanted
a spanking you didn't have to go through this rigmarole of saying it
was my punishment to give you one."

"No Johnny, I'm not letting you off.   No more excuses.   Take your
belt out of your pants - NOW.   You know what happens if you don't."

Johnny put his pants on and pulled his belt out of the loops, while
Katherine arranged the room.   She stacked chairs upside down on the
table, to give him room to swing, and put the Sears, Roebuck catalog on
the floor to raise her bottom.   She lay down with her legs spread wide
apart.   Johnny knelt between her legs, in position to whip her right
buttock, which had only one vertical stripe - that was where her
whipping had stopped, when he had walked in.

"It's six strokes, Johnny, and there will be more.  I'm not going to
enjoy this.  Your belt's even thicker than Daddie's.   And you must
strike very hard, or I tear up the oath you signed.  No warm-up
strokes."

"Kath, please.   Can't it just be a spanking?   I'll give you a really
long hard spanking."

"No, Johnny.   It has to be the belt.   But I will give you one chance.
If you can answer a question - if you can tell me ... oh ... where
Holyrood House is, in what city in Scotland, you can skip your
punishment this time.   But for every mistake on every homework paper -
history, math, English - every one, you'll have to give me a stroke.
I'll give you a chance each time, but the questions won't be easy:
What is the S.N.P.?   Is 'Buckingham' an analept or an iamb?"

"But I don't know where Holyrood House is - I just know it's in
Scotland!   This is torture!"

"Too bad."

Johnny lifted the belt high, took a deep breath, and sent it crashing
down.   But he happened to remember something, just then, about Mary
Queen of Scots.   The shout of "Edinburgh" and the smack of leather on
Scottish bottom sounded at exactly the same time.   Johnny had tried to
deflect the blow to the floor, but it just went crooked, and it landed
edge on, on top of another welt.   A dark red line marked the path of
the belt's edge, and there were cuts.  Little tears of blood welled up,
here and there, along the course of the whip track.    Johnny dropped
the belt, and ran out the door.   After a block, he shoved his
livestock into the barn, and zipped up the barn door.

X.   LARGO LACRIMOSSO: soprano
-----------------------------------------
Katherine wept for lost love, but she recovered.   She was young, she
was healthy.  And she had never expected anything else.

She didn't sleep at all Friday night.  Saturday afternoon she slept, a
bit, worn out with crying.   Saturday night was even worse.  But by
Sunday, she slept normally, and she went to school on Monday.    Johnny
wasn't there.   She was still having fits of uncontrollable weeping.
Tuesday was election day.    High School bairns didn't vote, of course,
they were not 21, but the candidates had passionate supporters,
especially McCarthy and Kennedy - they were like rival gangs.  In San
Francisco, Republicans kept their mouths shut.   One boy who admitted
liking Nixon was renamed The Dick Supporter, and he got his pants
pulled down and his underwear shoved into his mouth.  But on Tuesday
there was no more wrangling - they just wanted to know who would win.

Katherine found that some memories, especially the sexy ones, were
starting to make her smile when she thought of them, instead of cry.
Johnny was not there again on Tuesday.    She knew he would come back,
and pretty soon he'd be walking around school with his hand in some new
girl's hand, laughing and tossing his chestnut curls.   When that
happened she would have to transfer to another school, or kill herself.

On Wednesday, when she opened the door to run to school, Johnny was
groveling with his face pressed into the hallway linoleum.   "I am
ready to keep my oath now," he said.

They ran to school again, hand in hand, and got there in time.    But
the kids on the playground were not playing.  Everyone was hostile,
angry.   Nancy Bickerson was crying.   Johnny asked Harry Insman what
was going on.

"They killed another one!"

"What?"

"Bobby Kennedy - he won the primary, so they shot him!   They said it
was some Ayrab, but it was the C.I.A., like King!   They didn't want
him to stop the war."

"What?"

"Bobby Kennedy was assassinated last night.   In a hotel in L.A. after
giving a victory speech.   They captured the guy they say did it - some
Ayrab - but I say he was set up."

The kids on the playground milled about, listening to the news on a
Japanese transistor radio which they weren't supposed to have on school
grounds.  The bell for first class rang, but no one moved, except
Johnny, and he dragged Katherine by the hand to her class.   He wasn't
going to allow her to get another 8.   Katherine and the teacher were
the only ones in the room.   But after half the period was over, the
class came in.

"It's arranged," Nancy Bickerson said.   "There's going to be a march
on City Hall - Democracy March, they call it.   To protest it when we
vote for someone they don't like, and they kill him!   It starts at two
- not just us - everyone - it's all organized."

"Nancy! Katherine!   No talking!   That's an 8 for each of you!"

Mr. Dingle hadn't given any 8s for tardiness, even though his whole
class had shown up half-way through the class period.   So the class
learned something about the power of numbers, although maybe not from
the Dongle's math lesson.

At recess, the kids who had supported McCarthy hung their heads, the
Kennedy supporters boasted that they had been the real rebels, the real
threat to the establishment.   At lunch almost the whole school took
off and headed downtown.    Katherine went too.   She didn't see
Johnny.   They sang "We Shall Overcome."   Then one girl sang a Country
Joe anti-war song, but when she tried to get everyone to join in, it
was too hard.   They went back to "We Shall Overcome."   The black kids
were the angriest about the assassination.   Harry Insman explained to
Katherine about what Bobby Kennedy had done when he was Attorney
General.

Nearing downtown, they started to see other people crowding the
sidewalks.  Some carried protest signs.   The crowds ignored the
traffic lights, streaming across intersections.   Cars surrounded by
streaming crowds just waited.  Some hippies came running from a cross
street, there was a whiff of tear gas, and some of the hippies were
bloody.    The hippies were trapped by the solid mass of marchers, who
were still moving forward, still singing.   They had started "Michael
Row the Boat Ashore, A-lle-LU-UU-ja!"   The trapped hippies began to
shout about the pigs who were chasing them.  Gradually the panic began
to spread into the crowd.   They stopped singing.  Terror was like
something that could be felt, pushing down, spreading from person to
person.  But the crowd had nowhere to go, no direction of safety.
There were pigs behind them, and in front, toward City Hall, they heard
sirens.   There was a lot of pushing and shoving.   Then the pigs came,
in their blue helmets and gas masks, carrying not clubs, but rifles.
The milling crowd became a frenzy, and Katherine was shoved, and she
tripped and fell under a stopped car, in the middle of the street.
Someone stepped on her ankle.   Then someone fell on her.

It was Johnny.   He tried the car door, it wasn't locked.   He picked
her up and flung her into the back seat.   "Kath," he shouted at her,
"don't get out of this car!   If you do I'll - I'll - I'll never spank
you again as long as you live!"

Then the driver shouted "Get in and close the door, Nunes!  They're
coming!"   Johnny jumped in, on top of her, but then he tried to turn
around in the cramped space to close the door.  The driver jumped out
to close the back door, but Johnny got himself untangled and closed it.
Before the driver got his door closed again, a tear gas canister
exploded a few feet away, and the car was filled with the suffocating
gas.   Johnny cranked the window, trying to breathe, but the gas was
even worse outside.

The pain in her eyes and lungs was horrible, but what was worse was
that she couldn't breathe, and was starting to faint.   She hadn't
realized that dying took such a long time, or hurt so much.   Or that
you felt so angry about it as it happened.   Furiously angry at the
unfairness and frustration and shock that there was nothing you could
do about it.   She could not fill her lungs.  She was dying.  She was
dying now.  Then someone smacked her face - Johnny.  He poured water on
her eyes.   "Open them, Kath.   It'll wash out the gas."

Katherine's eyes felt like they had been gouged out with red-hot
pokers, but she opened them.   Hot hurting light poured in.  She
couldn't see a thing.  The water stung, but then the pain in her eyes
went down a bit.   The water got all over the place.  There was
something horrible about the taste of the water on her lips - sweet but
prickly, and tasting the way the gas smelled.   Johnny was washing out
his own eyes.  "That's better," he said.

"Johnny, can you see?   I've gone blind.  I'm blind!"

The driver said, "I can't see.  I got it right in the face.   But tear
gas doesn't make you blind.  They wouldn't use it if it made people go
blind - that's not true - but we would have heard about it if it made
people blind.  We're just blind for an hour or two, I guess."

Johnny said: "Mr., thanks a lot for letting us use your car.  I can see
pretty well now.   We should go."

Katherine thought she would be sick.   She managed to get sitting up,
and opened the car door, and hurled on the tarmac.  Mostly.  Johnny
handed her a bottle, Coca-Cola.  She drank a bit.  She realized that it
was what Johnny had washed her eyes with.    There were bags of
groceries in the back seat - the man had been caught in the riot going
home from the grocery store.

"Don't leave," the driver said.   "I'm still blinded and I need you.
And you're safer in here - what is going on out there?"

Johnny said, "I can't see much from here.  I'll go look around.   Lock
the doors!"   And he slipped out of the car.

"You're a lucky girl.  I hope your boyfriend gives you all the
spankings you want.   He's right about the doors - can you feel the
buttons?"

"I'm not his girl."

"He just spanks you?   I never had a girl like that."

"He gave me a spanking and I liked it.  But he said we can't be
together.  He took my virginity and dumped me."

"A blind man can see ..."

There was a tap on the window.  Then Johnny tried the door and it
opened.  Katherine hadn't locked it.

"It's not bad now, except for the gas.   I think there is a lot of
rioting downtown, the wind is coming from that direction.   A cop might
come by and order you to move, and if you say you can't see I suppose
he might drive your car."

"I'm starting to see a little.  Can you drive?"

"I don't have a license."

"Can you drive?"

"Yes."

"Then drive."

"But ..."

"Listen - I was in the longshoremen's riots in the thirties.   For a
big riot Reagan will call out the National Guard, and they shoot people
- they're not trained and they don't have riot gear.   People think
riots are just fun and games but they're not.   There will be a big one
some day and this looks like it.   When the cops get scared they shoot
to kill, and the rioters throw stones, not flowers - and they turn over
cars and light them on fire.  And they throw Molotov cocktails.  The
rioters will probably come down Market and the cops won't stop them.
We need to get out of here."

"All right."

Johnny got out and got in the driver's seat.  "I can't do it, the car I
drove had an automatic transmission."

"Don't worry.  That's the clutch, step on it.   We're now in first.
Let go of the clutch.   Slowly!"   The car lurched.   "Fine - first
gear is all we need."   The car lurched to a sudden stop and died.
'Sorry, I had to stop."   "Not a problem, step on the clutch.  A little
gas.  Good.  Ready to go?  I'll shift.   Let go of the clutch slowly
and give a little gas at the same time.   Perfect.  Go.   Try to avoid
hills - uphill is tricky with a shift.   Go south."

In front of Mission Dolores, Johnny stopped.   "Can you see now?"

"You're doing fine, Johnny.  Keep driving.   But let me show you the
thing called 'second gear'."

"Where should I go?"

"Oceanside.   My house.  Oh, my name's James.  Keep on south for now.
You're doing fine.   I'll shift.   Step on the clutch.   Now slowly let
it out and give it a little gas.   Not that slowly.   Johnny, do you
love her?"

Johnny stalled the car.

XI.   DUET: tenor e baritone
-----------------------------------------
Their rescuer was James Denson, retired vice-president of the
Teamsters' Union.

The Teamsters were trying to organize the workers at Johnny's father's
business, and Johnny had heard of the notorious Jimmy Denson.   Johnny
said: "I am George Nunes's son."

"I know who you are.   How do you think I knew your name?   I thought
you were your father, when you threw a girl in my car and said, "Stay
there or I won't spank you."    You sound just like him - and it's just
the sort of thing Jorge would say.   And when I looked in the mirror I
thought Jorge had found the fountain of youth - you look more like him,
than he does."

"So when you told me to get in the car, you thought you were rescuing
your greatest enemy?"

"I wouldn't say he's my greatest enemy.   I've known Jorge Nunes since
he was a boy lugging crates of fish on Fisherman's Wharf.  I bought
this car from him.  I wouldn't buy a used car from anyone else.   He
does what he says he'll do, and when there's a problem, he fixes it."

"I guess that's why he's always busy."

"You're old enough to know what everyone in town knows, Johnny.   Your
father is never home because he has mistresses."

"Mistresses?   Plural?"

"Well, one at a time, as far as I know.   But they don't last long.
Turn left on Ulloa."

Jimmy lived in a small but neat Spanish stucco, on a street of them
that looked all alike.   But when they parked, Jimmy didn't get out of
the car.  They waited for a bit.   Cars going by had their lights on,
in the fog.

"Johnny, here's something not everyone knows.  Your Dad likes to whip
women.   Or maybe he likes to be whipped - I don't know and I didn't
ask.   What I do know is that he goes a lot to certain places where
girls like that - young girls like that - can be picked up.   Certain
bars.   There are a lot of longshoremen in those bars, and your Dad's
picture is in his ad in the Auto News section every Sunday.  He takes a
girl out and gives her too many presents.   They go to nice
restaurants, so it's no secret, except the whipping part.  He whips the
girl for a few weeks, and then she takes her diamonds and goes.  And he
goes looking again.   Did you pick up this girl in a bar?"

"She wouldn't be in a bar like that."

"O, they are all nice girls.  Somebody's daughters.   Girls have to
eat.   They are runaways, mostly.   Had to leave home because they were
whipped too much, or raped by their step-fathers.   But they all have
boyfriends - pimps.   Maybe they love their pimp and maybe they're just
scared of him - either way it's bad news for your Pop.   Don't you go
looking for girls in those bars, Johnny.  Don't be like your Pop.  If
you like to spank girls - well, that's one way, and I know you have the
money in your pocket, but it's not worth the risk.  Stay out of those
bars."

"I will."

"Will you come in?  We all need a shower.  Miss, I don't know your
name?"

"Katherine Ramsay."

The house was spotless.  It looked as if Jimmy lived alone.   "I'm
afraid there isn't much hot water."

"You must go first, Mr. Denson."

"I'm used to it cold - I was in the navy.   Look, why don't you two
just shower together?   No need to be shy about it, it's obvious you
are boyfriend and girlfriend."

"I am not her boyfriend."

"So what did you mean when you threatened to stop spanking her?"

"Well of course I want to be her boyfriend.   And when she lets me - um
- well - um - sometimes - well, she did want a spanking once.   And
she's made me promise to give her one with my belt.   I owe her five
strokes."

"And you want them now, Miss Ramsay?   I can see you do."

"I - yes, I do."

"Can I watch?"

"No I don't think Johnny would like that."

"Oh yes I do, Kath - I think a naughty girl gets a public spanking."

"Whatever you say, Daddie.  I've been bad."

Johnny bent down to untie his shoes.  When he stood up he already had
an erection, pushing against his pants, and he unzipped to let it out.
Jimmy was staring at it - ogling it.   Johnny was a little shy, since
he was a tad below average according to the tables in Masters and
Johnson.   Jimmy wasn't shy about looking.

"Do you want to take your clothes off, Mr. Denson?    Do you want to
jerk off while you watch?  I don't mind.   Kath, do you mind if Mr.
Denson wanks?"

"Not if I get to watch.   Would that be all right, Mr. Denson?"

"Of course you can - if I get to watch the spanking."

Johnny stripped down to his underpants, with his rod sticking through
the Y-front.   He said: "Kath isn't a whore, Mr. Denson.   I don't know
how you could think that.   She's in my school.   And she doesn't ..."

Jimmy unzipped and pulled out his limp equipment and looked at it.
He looked a little sad, and he glanced back at Johnny's stiff rod.
Katherine had her hand around it.   Jimmy said: "She doesn't?"

Johnny said: "I think you need a spanking, Mr. Denson."

"No - it's not that - it's - "   Jimmy ran to the next room and came
back with an armful of carved wooden penises.  " - could you stick one
of these up my asshole?"

Johnny picked the biggest one, and Jimmy stared at it as he dropped his
pants and underpants.    Jimmy's cock was still not up.   But even
hanging loose it was longer than Johnny's erection.    He turned around
and bent over.

Johnny said: "It looks like you need a spanking first."

"No, I don't like them."

"You wanna watch - you're gonna get.   Do you want it to be me or
Kath?"

"You.   If I can watch her masturbate."

"We can do better than that - Kath, do you want to wank Mr. Denson."

"No - I don't want to come until I see her get her spanking.   Just go
ahead and spank me."

Jimmy started to walk over to a chair, but without waiting for him to
bend over it, Johnny pulled back and gave a tremendous whack on Jimmy's
shirttail.  Jimmy yelped from the unexpected pain, and tried to get
away, but his pants were around his ankles.   Johnny pulled him down to
the floor, across his lap, on top of his hard erection.  He got Jimmy's
long lank cock between his legs, and began to work it with his knees as
he plastered spank after ferocious spank on the old man's skinny arse.
The cock stiffened right up.  Johnny's cock got quite a work-out as
the old man flailed and twisted under the spanking.   Jimmy's groans
and moans could have been either pleasure or pain.

Johnny had to stop because he was about to come.    His cock was
leaking clear fluid - he hoped he hadn't broken something.    It hadn't
felt as good - as utter - as an orgasm, but maybe it had been an
orgasm.    It was a very disappointing one.   Katherine had stripped,
and had knelt down in front of the couch, so Jimmy could watch her work
her cunt, as he was spanked.   But the spanking was over and Jimmy
wasn't watching her: he was looking at Johnny's cock.   He put his
mouth around it.

Johnny didn't like this, or rather, he did like it but he didn't want
to like it.  He often thought about sucking cock.  He had studied the
section in Masters and Johnson to see if this meant he was a faggot.
He didn't think he was a faggot because he had never wanted anything up
his butt.

"You can lick me off when I come, Mr. Denson, but I don't want to come
yet."

Johnny picked up the big wooden penis.  "Do you want some vaseline?"

"No.  Beat my butt with the cock before you stick it in."

"For a man who doesn't like spankings, you are getting quite a beat-up
butt."

"Harder."

Johnny didn't want to hit too hard with the heavy stick, since Jimmy
was an old man.   Instead, he suddenly jammed the oversized penis in
the asshole.

"In and out - further in!  Harder!  Back a bit!  Perfect!   Now twist
it!"

The wooden penis was all jags and knobs.  Jimmy was shaking with
pleasure.   It looked like it felt as good as an orgasm but an orgasm
was over in an instant.  Jimmy's pleasure from his asshole just went on
and on.   Johnny stopped.   He didn't feel like watching someone else
have an orgasm that lasted for five minutes.

Johnny asked: "Do you have any vaseline?"

"What do you want it for?"

"I want to try that."

"You faggot!"

"Yes please."   Johnny pulled his underpants down and bent over.

"It looks like what you really want is my cock.   Don't you, Johnny?"

"No."

"Just for that you're getting the big one - dry."

Johnny wanted the little one, with lots of vaseline, so it would be
like Nana Rosalia's finger.  But he felt somehow that he couldn't
object.   He had beaten Jimmy and rammed him when he was on top, and
now he was on the bottom, subject to whatever Jimmy wanted to do to
him.  Even though he was scared of the big wooden penis up his butt.
Especially because he was scared.    He said: "beat me with it before
you stick it in."

But just thinking about Nana Rosalia's finger, worked in his little boy
asshole with lots of vaseline, put Johnny at the edge of screaming.
He shouted "condom!  condom!"   Jimmy ran to the bathroom, but came
back empty handed, and then into his  bedroom.  He came out with a
handful of condoms   Johnny shouted "Kath, get into position, quick!"
But she didn't move quickly.   Johnny started to howl, and when he
touched his penis, trying to get the condom on it, he squirted all over
the floor.

"You're going to get it for being so slow, Kath!   Turn around."

"No I don't want a spanking any more."

"And extra swats for that!   Bend over!"

Kath giggled and bent over, her hands on the seat of the couch.   But
Johnny grabbed her in a hug and pulled her down on top of him.   She
wasn't positioned right - he could only reach one cheek.   But he could
kiss her, and his still-stiff cock felt very good.   He kept his lips
pressed to her as he swatted one buttock.   She reached a hand between
them, working his balls the way she liked to do.

He pushed her away.   "You'll get sperm up you, Kath, it's too
dangerous."

Katherine squirmed down and got into a more normal spanking position
across his knees, wriggling her arse to show how much she wanted it.
He gave some good swats to the buttock he couldn't reach before, so it
could catch up.    Then he spanked alternately and slow.  Jimmy put a
wooden penis up his own butt, and was jerking off, trying to work up
his cock.   But nothing seemed to be happening.   Johnny slid Katherine
further down his knees, pulled his limp penis out from between his
legs, so Jimmy could look it.  "You need to lick this off," he said.
"And I still want to try that stick up my butt."

Jimmy masturbated as he watched Johnny work his cock with one hand, and
spank Kath with the other.  Finally, Jimmy sighed, and a little white
goo came out of him.   He had seemed to enjoy the run-up a lot more
than the climax.

Johnny said - "I get to lick that off, Mr. Denson - don't forget."

Jimmy looked rather tired.   "Call me James," he said.

"I thought you were called Jimmy?"

"The men who - um - spank me, call me James."

"Do a lot of men spank you?"

"Not enough.  I'll ram your butt for you.  You don't still want a
beating, do you - I know I never do after I come."

"I guess not.   But I do want to suck you, Jim - James."

James knelt, so Johnny had to go down on hands and knees, and duck his
head, to get the old man's penis.   He didn't actually want to do this,
but he did think about sucking cock sometimes, and who knew when he'd
get another chance?  But it took an effort of will.   He thought he
would gag if he actually licked the semen, but he got his mouth around
the tip.   It got easier once he started, and he got the whole thing
into his mouth up to the balls, and kind of swallowed.   He could tell
Jimm - James - liked that.   It felt sexy - he could get used to this.
But he backed off and took the kneeling position himself - his cock
was starting to recover already.    His underpants were twisted, and he
pulled them straight; Jimmy got down and took Johnny's tip into his
mouth.

The old man licked, and licked, and nibbled, and it felt so good.    It
was that time after coming when Johnny knew he couldn't have another
orgasm, but he could get an erection, and his penis was super sensitive
and every touch felt like sticking his dick in the light socket.
Touching his penis before an orgasm didn't feel this good.  And the
fact that he couldn't have an orgasm meant that he could beat the crap
out of his dick and have unbearable pleasure without pushing himself
over into - oops, game-over, screaming climax.  And when his dick
couldn't take it any more he used the paddle, and didn't count those as
punishment, because they felt too good.   But doing it himself wasn't
half as good as this.    Especially the head - Jimmy pulled the
foreskin forward, but with his tongue under it.  It was as unbearable
as tickling.   Johnny was nearly at the point of begging James to stop
when he stopped.   Johnny felt like he had run a four-minute mile.  And
he knew that in fifteen minutes - five sometimes - he'd be ready for a
second climax.   And a second one after all this build-up would be
dynamite - an H-bomb of a climax.   Now he wanted his paddle, on the
inside thighs as well as his bottom - he wanted a spanking from Kath!
Or a biting.  No, what he really wanted, was to bite Kath's ass.

Johnny said: "Kath, we should do something for you.   Do you want me to
use my tongue - or my hand?   Do you want to give me a spanking?"

"I don't want anything."

"Shall we see if Mr. - James - has a good showerhead for masturbating?"

"Well we do need a shower.  You go first."

"I'd like to shower with you Kath.   But I won't go first."

"I won't go first."

Jimmy gave them each a swat, and a shove in the direction of the
bathroom.

XII.   ALLEGRETTO:  soprano
-----------------------------------------
Katherine pulled Johnny into the bathroom by his tadger, pulled his
knickers down, and smacked him.

"Get in the tub."

"I've been bad, Mommy.   I need to be spanked."

She gave him another swat.  "Into the tub, NOW!"

He stepped in.  "Lie down.   No, on your back - never mind, on your
front is fine."

Katherine ran the shower.   "Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow."   Johnny started to flail
around, trying to get out of the way of the water.   Katherine turned
it off.   Clouds of steam were rising.    She pulled the knob so the
water would come from the spout instead of the shower, and put the plug
in the drain.   She found a washcloth, and began to scrub Johnny's
back.   His was on his belly with his knees bent, with his head toward
the taps, and he had to twist his head to the side to get it out from
under the stream of water, which was steaming.   But the scalding water
splattered on the tub floor, all over him.

"It's too hot."

"Too bad."

"Are you trying to make me infertile?   This really, really hurts."

Katherine turned off the water and scrubbed Johnny all over with a
stiff brush, which she thought was probably used for scrubbing the tub.
She used lots of soap.   She gave his arse some whacks with the back
of the brush.    Mr. Denson walked in.

"That's the brush I use for cleaning the toilet."

"Good.  Do you want to hit him?

Johnny said: "Please no more."

Katherine handed Mr. Denson the brush.  "How many should I give him?"

"Until he begs for mercy."

"Mercy!"

"Give him as many as he gave you."

Johnny thought grimly about the unfairness about having his hand
spanks, which he'd only done to give Jimmy an erection, repaid with
beatings with the back of a heavy wooden brush.   And he really didn't
think he'd given anything like this many.  When they were done at last,
Katherine said: "Turn over, Johnny."

Johnny was as red as a lobster where he had been in the scalding water.
His penis and scrotum were a deep dark red.  Katherine began to scrub
his chest with the toilet brush.  He said, "Kath?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"If you're torturing me you should run more hot water.   It's cooled
down a bit."

"Are you ready to belt me now?"

"I said I was."

"But do you want to?"

"I don't see why ..."

Katherine turned on the hot water tap and flipped the knob to send the
water to the shower.   Johnny screamed and flailed about, as the
near-boiling water beat down on him.  He slipped and fell as he tried
to get up and out of the tub.   "Fuck it, Kath, are you trying to kill
me?   What the fuck are you trying to do?"

"Are you ready to belt me now?"

"I'm going to beat you till you fucking bleed!"

"Then we can begin."

Mr. Denson said: "I have a whip you can use."

"Thanks, but she's used to the belt.   Um.  Kath - go into the living
room!   On the floor."

Katherine chose a spot where Johnny could make a good swing, if he
started with whipping straight across her bottom.   But he didn't.

"Spread your legs!"

Katherine spread.

"OK.  I'm doing it.   Don't I get to skip it if I can answer a
question."

"Let's forget about that.   I just want you to whip me."

"OK.  But I did remember about analepts.   At least I know BUCK-ing-ham
is not an iamb."

"Mr. Denson, kick him!"

"OK, I'm doing it.  Here it comes."

Johnny delivered a solid stroke, and it made a very loud slap.   His
thick wide belt did not hurt the way Daddie's did.  It was a soft
leather strap - a hippie belt with a brass dolphin for a buckle.  And
the sensation as the suede licked her skin - striking first her thigh
and then rolling up to kiss the curve of her bottom - was luscious -
even better than Johnny's spankings.  After a bit, he hit her again.
The little bite when the tip hit was like a pinch.  But she wanted
something that hurt.

Johnny said: "Can't I try to answer a question?   About the SNP maybe?"

"I really just want a belting, Johnny.   You like spanking me, don't
you?   You get turned on by spanking me.  Why is this different?"

"I don't know.  I don't understand.   Why are you doing this to me?
Why are you punishing me by making me hit you?"

"Just forget it."

Johnny gave her a vicious stroke with the belt, and then started laying
in to her as hard as he could, pounding away at her arse as he walked
around her and smashed into it from all directions.   More than the
five strokes he owed her.  Katherine thought it was just right, hurting
just enough to feel really good.  She wanted it to go on forever.
Johnny lifted her up so he could look in her face.

"Was that what you wanted, Kath?   Tell me if that was what you
wanted?"

"I scalded you on purpose.   You were angry - but only for  little
while.  I want you to punish me for what I do - I want you to whip me
when I deserve it - not when I ask you to."

"You want me - me! - to be the Daddie?   But I'm just an idiot - I'm a
little boy.  You're the grown-up."

"You are not an idiot.   But I don't care who's the grown-up and who's
not.   I get whipped by a grown-up.   I want you to whip me because you
don't spank hard enough.   I want you to lose your temper and beat the
crap out of me - and not ask me if it was what I wanted.  I want you to
like making my ass red."

"I hope you will take Miss Ramsay home, Mr. Denson.   Good-night."

Johnny grabbed his clothes and shoes, and walked naked out the front
door.

XIII.   ALLEMANDE:  oboe
-----------------------------------------
The Dongle, that is, Mr. P. Johnson Dingle, was a good teacher.

And his best skill was, that he could tell whether a child understood
or not, by the look in his eyes.   So he was not as surprised as others
might have been, when the geometry homework Johnny Nunes turned in,
contained no mistakes.

But he was not a good man.

When he held up Johnny's paper, and praised him in front of the class,
he could see the embarrassment in the boy's eyes.    He called Johnny
up to the board - and was rewarded by a look of such terror, as would
bring joy to the most evil heart.    He asked Johnny to prove that the
angle bisectors of a triangle must intersect.

Johnny drew a triangle and drew in the three bisectors, showing them
not quite intersecting, and tried to think of what to do next.   The
Dongle smiled, and thought of questions to ask that would make Johnny
squirm - cry even.   This would be a triumph - the most popular, the
most confident, the most beautiful boy in the school, reduced to tears.
Serve him right for turning in a perfect homework paper.  But then
Johnny erased one line.   He marked the other lines as angle bisectors,
and drew back in the third line - intersecting the other two this time,
but not shown as bisecting its angle.

"Draw two angle bisectors - they must intersect.   Draw the line from
the other vertex to the point of intersection.   If we can prove that
this line, which does intersect, is a bisector, then we will have
proved that the bisector, intersects."

It was the answer - once you had that, the rest was just adding and
subtracting angles.    And Johnny knew it was the answer.  And Mr.
Dingle knew that Johnny knew.     He could see the boy's thoughts - see
them as the eyes flickered from point to point  - the sum of the angles
of a triangle - yes - similar triangles - yes - the boy had it.  And
the class understood Johnny's explanation, and they were interested -
as they never were in the teacher's proofs.   It was total,
devastating, defeat - the teacher was crushed and the boy had
triumphed.   But the look in his eyes was not triumph.   Mr. Dingle
thought that in a year of passing out 8s, he had never seen such misery
in a child's eyes.

Johnny's triumph was news, and Saul Levin told Katherine Ramsay about
it in fourth period English.    She turned around to look at Johnny.
He had been staring at her; he blushed and looked away.     Mr. Alvarez
also got a chance to glance through the homework on his desk - Johnny's
essay caught his eye.   It was quite good, and it made Mr. Alvarez very
sad.   He assumed the rich man's stupid son had paid someone to do his
homework.   He did not call on Johnny, to ask him questions to prove he
could not possibly have written the essay himself, because he was a
kind man.   And because he was able to read nothing, nothing at all, in
his students' eyes.

That was the day the final report cards of the school year were handed
out.    Katherine's was straight A's, and there were no bad marks - the
8s she had earned were too late to have been included.     She looked
at the card and tucked it away without a smile - her friend Nancy
Bickerson was watching her face.   Then Nancy opened her own card.

"Johnny Nunes sat next to Betsy Azerkarian at lunch yesterday.    I
just thought you should know that."  Nancy said.

After school Johnny was waiting by the playground gate.

"Hello, Johnny."

He did not say anything.  It was Friday and he had not spoken to her
since that time at Mr. Denson's, ten days ago.  He walked next to her,
or a little behind, saying nothing.   About two blocks from school, a
car horn honked, and they looked - it was James Denson.

"Johnny, Katherine!"

They went over.   "Johnny, do you remember Willie Washington - a
mechanic at your Dad's place?"

"I know a mechanic called Willie.   Short black man - big ears."

"He's in the hospital.   He's been crossing the picket line, and some
boys beat him up last night.   I don't know how bad it is.    But I
think it might be - bad.   Look, I didn't want this to happen.   But
it's going to get worse.   Your Dad's got the goons in already, and
he's going to bring in scabs - busloads of them, from Fresno or
somewhere."

"What can I do about it?"

"Look - I'm blocking traffic.   Get in."

"I need to get home, Mr. Denson.   It's Johnny you need to talk to."

"Please Miss Ramsay, Johnny will want you."

"He doesn't want me."   And Katherine went back to the sidewalk.   Cars
were honking.   Johnny got into the car, and they drove off.
Katherine continued walking.   About four blocks from home, Mr.
Denson's car pulled up, and Johnny got out.   He stepped into place, a
half step behind her.   But she didn't start walking.

"So you're not going to the hospital?"   Johnny wasn't talking to her -
hadn't said a word for ten days.   She knew he wasn't going to answer,
just gaze at her the way he did.   But he did answer.

"Well I don't really know him - I would just see him around the
dealership.  And I think it's only family they're letting in to see him
now."

"So what did Jimmy want?"

"He wants - but I don't know what to do about it.  Anyway I have time
to do this first."

"Do what?"

"Get a licking for my report card - what did you think I was doing?"

"I don't think you need a whipping for bad grades, Johnny."

"You'd get one - wouldn't you?   If you got bad grades?   No one's ever
cared enough to whip me.   Not until now."

"Johnny, you got 61 on that geometry test.  Sixty-one!   You wrote in
your book that you'd give yourself spanks if you did badly, and then
you did really, really badly.   And you're not a turnip-head.   I heard
about you in geometry class today.   Smarter than the teacher - that's
what Saul Levin said.  So tell me Johnny, why does a smart boy who
works hard get bad grades?   Are those spanks punishment?   Or are they
reward?"

"I didn't think 61 was that bad.   My goal was 65.  Just because you
always get 100 - there's lots of kids who do worse than me.  And my
spanks hurt.  At least I'm trying."

"I don't think that's good enough.   Getting a licking - you're just
giving yourself a treat.  I think you need to stop rewarding yourself
for screwing up."

"You think I like getting a belting?  I don't!   You're the one!   You
want me to get angry, whip out my belt and thrash you - like I'm the
Daddy and you're the little girl.   You think that's sexy!"

"Wouldn't it be, for you?   Wouldn't it make your tadger shoot up?
And shoot off?"

"My cock rises listening to you recite the pledge of allegiance."

"I hadn't noticed."

"Well I'm trying to cut back on masturbating in class.   Yeah, sure it
would be sexy, fantastically sexy.   But how am I supposed to be the
one who decides if you've been bad?"

"I've heard it before Johnny - you're an idiot - you're a little kid.
But you aren't."

"But I never know what to do."

"You did pretty well in the riot."

"I don't know what to do about this - this business with - I mean the
thing Jimmy told me about."

"Johnny - you may want a licking but I don't.   I have to go home.  And
I don't want you asking Daddie for a licking."

"I have to.   I signed in blood."

"I want you to break that oath.   Don't come home with me if you are
going to ask for a licking."

"I won't ask - today.  But it is an oath."

When they walked into the apartment, Daddie looked at his watch, which
he had redeemed from the pawnshop thanks to a tip from a Saudi Arabian
sheik, but he did no more than tap it.    Katherine handed over her
report card.   When he read it, he had to turn away his face.   He
busied his hands, pointlessly rearranging things on the table.   He
couldn't look at his daughter.    His hands encountered a six-pack of
beer, and he offered one to Johnny.

He still wasn't looking at his child.  He said: "I suppose your lad has
a fine report as well, K-Kath."

And then Daddie started to cry.   He pulled out his handkerchief.

Johnny passed Daddie his report card.

"Ah that's a little different, that is.   I suppose you won't be
sitting down so comfortably for a while.    I'm forgetting - your
Daddie doesn't give you his belt.   I suppose that's why you do so
poorly.   Our Katherine - of course she's very intelligent - a fine
lass - but she's always known that we expected her to work hard - and
she'd feel my belt if she didn't."

"I think so too.  I think I screw up because nobody punishes me.  Dad,
would you - um - never mind."

"I mind you asked for a belting, João Maria.    I think you should
have one for this report."

Johnny looked at Katherine.   He said: "Yes, Daddie."

Looking at Katherine, he stood up, and undid his belt buckle.   He
moved very slowly.   He took a gulp of air, as if he was jumping into
the sea, and quickly pulled down his trousers and knickers.

Katherine said, "I want to take Johnny's licking for him."

"He needs to take his own punishment."

"Daddie, I usually get something when I get straight As.   This is what
I want."

"Is that fine with you, João Maria?   If your lass wants to take your
licks?"

"Of course it's not fine!   I absolutely refuse."

"Ye'r a guid lad t' say it.  But the lass'll have her way."

Katherine reached under her skirt and pulled her knickers down to her
knees.   She bent over with her skirt on.   Daddie flipped it up to her
back, and took out the whip he'd made from an old belt - he'd fitted a
wooden handle with some American gray tape from the cloak-room at work.
The leather was cut in half, rather than folded, and the ends were
split, making four tails.  When he made it, he'd given her a taste of
it, and told her he'd use it if she ever kissed a boy.  He kept it in
his pants drawer as a threat.

"Can you at least give her a spanking first - Daddie?"

"You do it, João Maria."

Johnny was aroused - she could tell somehow, without looking.   Just
his breath - ragged and raspy.   "Oor Johnnie's got a stonner," she
giggled to herself.    She took a keek - he was trying to stuff it into
his trousers - with Daddie watching.   It was too stiff to go in. With
his trousers buttoned and his belt loosely buckled, but with his rod,
stiff as it could be, sticking out through the zipper, he took a stride
over and gave a terrific swat to her cheek.   Hyah - that was much
harder than he had ever spanked her.    And he spanked fast.   For the
first time, she had a sense of his enormous strength - he was so big -
and he did lacrosse as well as track.   In everything he had done till
now - every time he had touched her - he had been holding this power in
check.   But now he was hitting with all his might - protecting her
from the belting to come.

He shifted position, putting his left hand on her hip, so that he was
holding her hips firmly, held between his hand and his front, limp as a
ragdoll in his powerful hands.  She was folded over his steel-hard rod.
He took a gulp of air, and started in, spanking more slowly - left -
right - left - right.   He was so strong that she was clamped as in a
vise, not able to shift a fraction of an inch as the shaking, pounding
blows struck.  He spanked her all over, all the places her Daddie would
whip - down her legs and between her legs and every inch of her bottom,
right into the crack.  And Katherine had a sense - I've been here
before.   It was a feeling of running - a feeling of room to run in.
Running with bare feet on stony ground, naked and strong, with Johnny.
The smacks on her inside thighs were like muscles straining, moving
her legs as fast as she could go - the pain like her bare feet pounding
the ground, running, running together, running exaltation! across a
wide windy plain.

Having her bottom smacked hard - it felt different, when she wasn't
being punished for anything.    When it was Johnny.  And Johnny held
her like he would never let her go.  But he did stop spanking.   And
then came the waiting.  She got the belt even for a B minus.  Every
step below that would be more - a lot more.   Just one of Johnny's bad
grades - just his D in history - would be a bad beating.   If Daddie
gave her that, and then went on to the next subject, and the next, for
every one of Johnny's bad grades - she couldn't take it.   What would
happen - could she change her mind - would Daddie let her?   Could she
take just history, and let Johnny take the rest?    But Johnny couldn't
take the rest - she was used to it, he wasn't.   Six strokes - six! -
was a lot to Johnny.  She should at least take half.   More than half.
She would have to take almost all of them.

Johnny was looking down at his rod.   He had juiced.  She hadn't
noticed, but now she could feel it in the hollow of her thigh, where
she had been folded over him.  It must have been in that moment - the
sudden wonderful moment when in spite of everything - in spite of
everything he said - everything he had done - everything he was! - she
had believed they would run hand in hand forever.  Johnny said: "Mr.
Ramsay, Sir?"

XIV.  PRESTO AGITATO:   clavichord
-----------------------------------------
"Yes, João?"

"If I went to my father, and begged him to give me a licking, and he
did it, could you not whip Katherine?   I don't know if he'll do it.
But if he does?   I know I deserve this licking, and I know you've said
Katherine can take it for me, but if I get one from my dad - won't that
mean there's nothing for Katherine to take?   And could you not whip
Katherine now - to give me a chance to ask my Dad?"

"Getting the belt from your own Daddie is best."

"O.K.   Um, there's a problem.   I need to talk to Katherine about it."

"In the kitchen with you, then."

"No it's all right.  I'd like you to help too - um - Daddie.    Kath,
Jimmy told me something, and I have to do something about it - it's
about what he told us - about my Dad picking up - oh fuck.     Sorry.
I guess I can't tell other people about that.    Um.   Katherine, I
guess we should go into the kitchen.   Could you please?"

"Go on with you.   I could leave you alone.   I need to go - do some
things."

"Will you come, Katherine - please?   To the street?  Not the kitchen.
I really do want to talk - not go in the kitchen to have sex."

Katherine changed out of her school shoes, and grabbed a sweater.   She
slipped a couple of condoms from her little stash into her skirt
pocket.   And three one-dollar bills.   And the ring - the plain ring
that Johnny had tossed her.   The ring his mother kept in her make-up
box.   Johnny didn't talk on the street - he took her to a Chinese
place, and got a single order of chop suey to share.   He poured tea
into the thick, handle-less cups.   Katherine looked out the window to
the motel across the street.

"The whores my father picks up in the longshoremen's bars - he doesn't
whip them.   They whip him.   That's why they leave so quick, Jimmy
says.  James I mean.  You'd think that would be a whore's dream.   A
rich man who gives them presents, who doesn't whip them, but wants to
be whipped.   But they never last.  Jimmy says they get scared.  Dad's
current mistress is called Reena - her real name is Maureen Herb and
she's seventeen and comes from Milwaukee.   And Jimm- I mean, James -
says she is very, very frightened.    Her pimp is called Drake - Jimmy
doesn't know his real name.  Some of the boys - teamsters - set up a
little plan, and got Drake to go along.   Reena is going to tie Dad up,
to whip him.   And blindfold him.  And then the boys are going to come
in and beat him with a tire iron until his ass is a pulp.   Make it
look like a sexual whipping that got out of hand.    And then they're
going to call the cops.   And the press.  If he tries to claim it was
some men who beat him, and demands an investigation, there'll be plenty
of evidence - girls from the bars who'll say Dad picked them up and
wanted a whipping.   It'll be a circus.   If he doesn't mention the
men, it will be bad enough - it will still get out that he picked up a
girl to whip him, and ended up in the hospital with surgeons stitching
his butt back together."

"So you need to warn him.   Stop him going with Reena."

"James trusted me with this.   If they find out he told me, they will
kill him."

"But you can still warn your Dad, can't you - can't you trust your Dad
not to tell anyone the warning came from Jimmy Denson?"

"I think my Dad's life is at stake.  I think this might kill him.  Or
he might kill himself, if the story got out.   And if anyone looks into
Dad's background - well, there would be problems.   He's not in this
country legally, for one thing, and he - well, it would be a problem if
anyone starts investigating him."

"So you have to warn him."

"And let Jimmy take his chances?    Yes I do if it comes to that.   But
I do have a plan.   I thought of it while giving you that spanking.
You won't like it."

"What is it?"

"I want you to give my Dad a whipping."

"I think - I think that is brilliant."

"Well there is another problem.   Or maybe it isn't a problem - not a
problem for me, anyway.   James told me this, maybe saved my Dad's
life, and maybe put his own on the line.   And he wants something in
exchange."

"What?"

"He wants me to stop my Dad from bringing in scabs from the Central
Valley."

"So the Teamsters win?"

"So there isn't a massacre, he says.    So the strike doesn't get so
violent that a lot of people get killed.  But I can't stop my father
from bringing in the scabs - the replacements.   The only possible way
would be to tell him about the plot, tell him the warning came from
Jimmy Denson, and say Jimmy Denson wants this in exchange.   And that
just won't work: Jimmy Denson is the last person on Earth my Dad
trusts.   He'll just say Jimmy organized the whole plot - if there is a
plot - just so he could 'warn' us about it and win the strike."

"So there's nothing you can do to get James what he wants."

"And if there's nothing I can do, it's not my problem, unless - "

"What?"

"Unless there's a massacre."

XV.  PAVANE:  guitar
-----------------------------------------
"Don't worry, he always comes in here after dealing with the last
customer.   He puts the day's DMV paperwork in the safe."

"But if he always comes, why would we pick this place for a secret
get-together?"

"Because I'm a turnip-head."

Johnny's plan was simple enough.   His Daddie would walk in on them,
with Johnny naked and tied, with his bottom severely whipped.   Johnny
thought this would make his Daddie want a whipping too.   It wasn't
much of a plan.   But the only other idea was for Katherine to walk up
to Mr. Nunes and say: "Excuse me, do you happen to want a whipping?"

Johnny said: "I don't think we should tell him that we know about the
whores - that the whores whip him."

"Why not?   Why shouldn't I say, I know you like being whipped and I'm
here to whip you?"

"Because he will be ashamed of it.    When he sees you naked and
swinging the whip, he's going to want to be whipped.   Any man would
get excited; my dad's going to go crazy.  He'll figure out some way to
get naked and bent over - don't worry about that part.   But if he
thinks we know about him being whipped by whores, he'll be too ashamed
to want to face us.   I think he'll be much more ashamed of that, than
if he whipped the whores instead."

"And if I do whip him, and then he goes to Reena?   For sex?   It isn't
only whippings she gives him."

"If you're thinking what I think you're thinking - I absolutely won't
allow it."

"So if he leaves, and you think he's going to Reena?"

"Plan B.   We tell him about the warning from James.   And I beg him
not to go on my knees."

"I think we need to make plan A work."

Katherine undressed - Johnny was naked already.   She slipped her dress
and knickers down in one go and dropped them in a pile, so Johnny
wouldn't notice the Tampax pad.

"Well we better start then.  I don't think my Dad just likes a little
light spanking with sex like I do.   It needs to be a serious whipping,
and we need to make him see it.  I want my ass pointed right at the
door when he opens it."

She tied Johnny's wrists to the legs of his Daddie's desk.  Johnny had
to help her with the knots.   There wasn't anything useful to tie his
ankles to.   Johnny's belt was awkward in her hand, but she gave some
good wallops.   It was fun - and very loud.

Johnny said: "You might as well try pinching me to death.   Try some
loops of the clothesline."

Katherine's arm got rather tired after a few strokes with loops of
clothesline.

"That hurts, if possible, even less than the belt.  Try putting some
knots in."

The knots produced some barely visible red spots.

"Use my pocket-knife.   Make some cuts - get blood on the whip."

"If your Daddy wants to be whipped till he bleeds, he's not going to be
satisfied with being cut by a knife."

"Well, find something - I'm tied up."

Katherine found a yardstick in the closet.   It wasn't very strong, but
it had a brass ferule running down the edge.  Not much less sharp than
Johnny's pocketknife.    Katherine tried it.

"Hard, dammit!  This is important."

"Johnny, you're bleeding."

"Well that's the point, isn't it?   Do the cuts all criss-cross.   Make
it look good."

"It looks like hamburger."

"I'd like to have an erection when Dad walks in.   And be fucking you."

"I can get under you, I guess."

"I can't seem to get my cock up.   Can you use your hand?"

Katherine lay on her back, and Johnny raised himself to his knees so
she could slide her head under him.    There was a fair amount of blood
on the floor and it got all over her hair - she was naked, so at least
she wouldn't be getting bloodstains on her school clothes.   It was
awkward - she had to raise herself a bit to get the thing in her mouth
- it was very short when it was soft.   But it got longer as it began
to swell and stiffen.

"Oh! excuse me." - and the door slammed.

"That was my Dad!"

"Now what?"

"Go after him - tell him I want to talk to him."

There was no one in the corridor.   Katherine came back into the room.

"Didn't you go look for him?"

"Johnny, I'm not just naked - I'm naked and covered with blood.   I
can't go running around the car dealership like this - I thought the
plan was to protect your father's reputation, not ruin it."

"Fuck it.   For all we know he'll leave here, and go pick up his
whore."

"I can't believe he found two naked people fucking in his office and
just left."

"Not two naked people - his son and his son's girl."

"You think he recognized your butt?  Believe me Johnny your mother
couldn't recognize it."

"No one else has a key.   Well, no one else who is stupid enough to
fuck in his office.  He knows it was me.   Young and stupid: who else
is he going to think of?   Untie me - you can't run around naked but -
Yah-OOMPH."

Johnny freed himself - he lifted the massive oak desk with his teeth.
He slipped the loops of clothesline off the bottoms of the legs.    And
he was out the door like a runner from the starting block.

Mr. Nunes came back dragging Johnny by the wrist.  "You can't run
around my dealership like that - and - like that!   Mãe de Deus - it
looks like the St. Valentine's day massacre in here."

"I wouldn't let her stop.  A hundred strokes for every bad grade.   But
we needed a better whip."

"What are you talking about?"

"I made her whip me for my report card - I'm doing badly in school and
you wouldn't help."

"What do you mean I wouldn't?   You haven't asked me for any help!"

"You never even asked to see my report card.   I figured you didn't
care about me."

"I work my fingers to the bone for you and your mother."

"Well I hear different, Dad - I know about all those girls you take to
hotel rooms - a new one every month and some of them younger than me!
San Quentin quail!"

"Johnny your mother and I -"

"Can it, Dad! - I know about Gallagher's and the Captain's Locker and
all the other bars in China Basin.   I know what kind of girl you pick
up.   You pick up girls in bars and you whip them - and you refuse to
whip your own wife and son!"

"Refuse to whip you?"

"I've wanted you to be a real dad all my life.  Weren't you listening?
But Mom's the one you're really mean to - she wants you to whip her
even more than she wants sex."

"She said that to you?"

"No of course not - I overheard her talking to one of her girlfriends -
O.K. I spied on her when she was on the phone."

"She said she wants sex?

"I only heard half the conversation.  She talked about her husband -
the girlfriend's husband I mean - that he took his hand to her.   But
it was real obvious what she meant - and what she wanted.   Mom said
right out she wished she had a man like that.   It's what I want too.
That you should take a hand to me."

"Johnny your mother told me she can't stand me to touch her.   She may
have wanted a man to beat her, but not me.   She calls me scum.  She
says I'm like something in the skuppers of a fish-boat."

"Yeah well maybe she wanted to make you so mad you would half kill her.
Katherine does that to me.   She won't just ask for a whipping when
she wants one, she does something to make me mad instead.   And she
doesn't like to whip me - I had to buy her chop suey before she'd agree
to do it."

"Chop suey?"

"Will you do the rest of my whipping?   She said she wouldn't do any
more and I still have two hundred strokes to go.  She just wants to
fuck all the time."

"You shouldn't have used something so sharp."

"So you'll do it?   That's so cool!  The belt didn't hurt enough.   It
has to really really hurt.   What do you use on the whores?   You must
know all about whipping.   You must have all kinds of really cool whips
and stuff.  Handcuffs and chains and things.  And you never let me have
anything.  Not even a spanking!"

"Your mother was the one who said you should never be spanked.   She
couldn't bear to think about you being hit."

"Couldn't bear to think about me at all, she meant.   You shouldn't
have let her do it.   But at least you can make up for it now - my
report card is in my pants pocket.   And I want the yardstick - the
belt didn't hurt enough.   Even the yardstick didn't really hurt.   Do
you ever use of boiling oil?"

"A sharp thing like this yardstick doesn't hurt much.   Something
really sharp, like a razor, draws a lot of blood but hardly hurts at
all.   That Opus Dei priest, Escrivá, who whips himself with razor
blades - splatters blood all over the place, but real masochists know
it hurts less than a spanking from his mommy."

"I'm not a masochist, Dad.   I don't enjoy this.  I just think I should
be punished when I screw up like any other boy.   Even if it was only
your hand.   I used to look at your hands a lot, when you were at
home."

"This belt doesn't hurt a lot because it is so wide and soft.    And I
see you tried knotted rope, but it is too light.  And it's soft -
cotton clothesline.  A narrow stiff strand - or better yet a lot of
them at once, hurts more."

"It should be something I won't forget for a year."

Mr. Nunes opened the big cabinet safe, and took out a cashbox, and
opened it with a key he kept in a zipper compartment of his belt.   He
took out and uncoiled two multi-tailed whips.  The shorter one had
knotted tails.

Johnny said: "Those look spectacular, Dad.   How many lashes can the
whores take?   I want a hundred.  Two hundred.  I want you to tie me up
and keep whipping even if I beg you to stop."

Johnny lay down in the place he had been tied.  He put his wrists next
to the desk legs, ready for tying.

"I can't whip you when you've been cut like this.   It might stop the
cuts from healing - make scars."

"I have scars on my butt already."

"Not from me."

"Mr. Nunes?   Can I take the whipping for Johnny?   He took one for me.
My Daddie was going to whip me, but Johnny said it had been his
fault."

"And is it your fault, Miss Katherine, that my son has such a shameful
report card?"

"Ah.  No.   But I don't think Johnny is really a dunder-heid - let me
tell you about what he did in maths today."

"I know he is not a ... that he is not stupid.  That is why it is
shameful.   Otherwise, it would only be pitiful."

"But he did take a whipping for me, Mr. Nunes, so I want to take one
for him."

"I don't think it's your fault he does so badly in school.   But it is
mine."

"Do you want to take Johnny's whipping, Mr. Nunes?"

"No."

"Well, whip me, then.   I do want to take Johnny's whipping for him."

"But Kath, I don't want you to take my whipping."

"I'm not interested in what you want."

Katherine lay down beside Johnny.  He was still on the floor with his
wrists touching the desk legs.    Mr. Nunes had the long whip in his
hand, but he didn't do anything.   Johnny stood up and sighed, and
picked up the short knotted whip, and stepped into position to bring it
down across Katherine's arse.    He waited only a moment, took two deep
breaths, and began.

Katherine screamed.   It had happened too fast and she wasn't ready!
The pain took her into another world.

But there was only the one stroke.

It took her a while to understand what had happened.   But she became
aware that she had heard Mr. Nunes shout "Stop!" as the stroke fell.
It seemed Johnny wasn't going to whip her any more.   She waited a
while; then she got up.

Mr. Nunes  had taken off his jacket and tie, and was unbuttoning his
shirt.   He pulled out the desk chair to untie his shoes.    He folded
his socks, and made a neat pile.   He hung his pants using a special
hanger he took from the closet.   He folded his knickers and added them
to the pile on the desk.   He locked the office door.  Johnny handed
her the whip.

Mr. Nunes got down on his hands and knees - he didn't lay down on the
floor like she and Johnny had.   And he was pointing the other way,
facing the door - she had to walk around him.   Johnny moved to where
he could see his father's arse, and stood like a soldier at attention,
witnessing a punishment.   Katherine didn't think the son looked that
much like his father.   More like his mother, really.   He got his
height from her.   And his hair, of course.   There were six stripes
across Mr. Nunes's arse - he had been caned, very hard, recently.
Katherine swung the whip as hard as she could, and Mr. Nunes sobbed.
Her own arse was still on fire from just one stroke, and she felt sexy,
and she swung wildly, ecstatically.   But it didn't look like Mr. Nunes
was feeling sexy at all.  Johnny stared, rigid as a bronze statue, his
tadger shrunk and pulled into his body.     He flinched a bit as each
stroke fell.

After about a dozen strokes, Mr. Nunes said: "Johnny - I want it to be
Johnny."

Feeling dismissed, Katherine let fly with one last really wild swing.
Then she gave the whip to Johnny.

Mr. Nunes, the masochist, seemed to be enjoying his whipping a lot less
than Johnny had liked his.   She said : "Do you want me to wank you?
Jerk you off?"

"Who, me?"

"Don't you like it, when you get a whipping?"

"No, I - um - no."

"Didn't you have sex after getting that caning?"

"What - uh, I - uh - that is -    Yes.  Please.   I do want it."

Katherine slid her head under him, as she had with Johnny.   But the
father's soft penis dangled almost to the floor when he was on hands
and knees.   Something else Johnny had not inherited.

She said: "Don't stop whipping, Johnny.   You'll want your turn later,
won't you, when your bottom heals?    Getting whipped by your Daddie
while I do you underneath?"

Johnny dropped the whip and picked up his shirt and pants and shoes off
the floor.  He walked out the door.

"He's been doing that ever since he learned to walk.   He knows how
angry it makes me.   If he wants whippings we've got about sixteen
years of them to catch up on.  I can remember things he did that I'd
like to whip him for, for days - once he went skateboarding naked!"

Sex with the older Mr. Nunes was everything sex with Johnny wasn't.
He didn't fumble getting rubber johnnies out of wrappers.   He didn't
smash into her like a steam hammer when she wasn't ready, or brush her
like a butterfly when she needed a good whack.  He didn't juice all
over the floor when she hadn't even started.  He didn't need to close
his eyes and think of somewhere else, just to keep his tadger up, or
stare into space with a big smirk on his face, in a world of his own.
He was skilled, practiced, considerate.  And his penis was enormous.
He looked at her like he thought she was sexy.  When he opened the
johnny, she asked: "Don't you want to fuck me without that until you
are about to juice?"

"Not unless you want to get pregnant - that's almost sure fire."

And he knew all sorts of things about making her feel hot.   He kissed
and caressed and nibbled all over, and hugged, and nuzzled her ears,
and he talked - whispered, shouted, whimpered, begged, preached.  Asked
her to do things, told her how sexy she was and how horny she made him
feel.   Things Johnny had never learned from Masters and Johnson.   It
was an education.   But there was one really important way that this
was different from sex with Johnny.

It was heartless.

And there was something else.   She shouldn't have been having sex on
this day at all.   Shouldn't have been able to.   But her tampax had
been as white as a virgin's conscience.  Today - beyond any argument -
beyond any shadow of a doubt - Katherine was late.


XVI.  PARTITA:  baritone
-----------------------------------------
Katherine didn't go home.

Mr. Nunes - and he liked being called Mr. Nunes - had given her one
hundred dollars.   And she had promised to come to the dealership
tomorrow.

"But it won't be a C-note every time,"  he had said.

"I understand."    She hadn't, actually.   She supposed C-note had
something to do with music.   She had heard it was possible to get rid
of a baby in Chinatown, but had no idea how to go about it.   She
knocked on a door in an alley.   No one answered.

And so, after walking miles - very steep miles - all the way across
town in the middle of the night, she rang the doorbell of a little
Spanish stucco on Ulloa street.    It took several rings before Mr.
Denson answered the door.

"You will have to marry Johnny, of course."

He had made coffee, and they were sitting at the kitchen table.
Somehow it made Katherine feel a little better that the fastidious
James Denson had left his washing-up to do in the morning.   She had
done it while he made the coffee.

"I do not know if you two will have a good life.  I don't think you
will.  You spend all your time thinking the worst of each other. But
there is no doubt whatsoever - no doubt whatsoever - that Johnny will
be happy about this."

"Happy I'm pregnant?"

"He'll think - and I think so too -  that it means you'll get married.
That is, if you really are pregnant."

"I won't force myself on him.   I won't saddle him with a child that'll
wreck his life."

"I don't understand you.   Why are you wearing his ring?"

"This?   It is just something we borrowed from his mother."

"That ring belonged to Mama Nunes - Johnny's grandmother.  It was her
wedding ring."

"But it's copper!"

"It's brass.  It was enameled originally; Toledo enamel - look on the
inside.  The enamel's why it doesn't turn your finger green.   A lot of
Portuguese fish-wives had wedding rings like that - they couldn't
afford gold in the Azores."

"Johnny just tossed it to me - he said, see if this fits."

"I suppose men in his family have been giving that ring away for
generations, and then keeping it in the family by marrying the girl."

"He tossed it to me like it was nothing."

"Would you have taken it - as a promise of marriage?"

"If Johnny proposed - but that's ridiculous - but if he had?  Yes -  I
would have."

"He must have thought you wouldn't.   He must have thought that by
getting you to take the ring, without knowing what it was, it would
somehow make you end up marrying him."

"Well he gave me something else.   And I can't possibly tell him."

"He has to know.  I won't keep that sort of secret."

"So you'll tell him?  Well I'm glad I guess.  And thanks.  James."

"No.  What I will do is ask Johnny what he thinks about marriage to
you.   And I will tell you what he says.   But you have to tell him
about the baby.  You have to tell him about the baby so you can see his
face.  You can see if he thinks it's a bit of a nuisance.   But I think
you will see - happiness.   Joy out of despair.  Not happy that he's
having a baby but happy because he will think it means he has you.  It
will be so obvious that even you will believe it.   I'll go now.   No -
that won't work - I can't be seen going to that house.   You phone him,
tell him I'll meet him at - at the cross on Mt. Davidson, at 7:30 this
morning.      I 'll ask him - no that won't work.   I can't ask him if
he wants to marry you.   I will just ask him if he loves you."

XVII.  CADENCE:  tambour
-----------------------------------------
"Love her?!"

"Did I love her?!   She was everything to me!   Birds in spring and
rain falling on the pavement.   My heartbeat.   My last whisper and my
silence.   A hopeless fantasy - ice caves doomed to melt in the spring
- and leave not a wrack behind.  A fairy castle in the wind, a dome
built on air - on thin air."

"That's very poetic, Johnny.   And I don't think it's hopeless.   What
would you think, if you could have her?"

"Could I revive within me her - symphony and song?   To such a deep
delight would win me that . . .  With music - loud and long - I would
build that dome.   In air."

James Denson sat down on the park bench again, and looked at the
weeping boy.   The fog over the Pacific was touched by the sun rising
from behind the Oakland hills.  But the boy had more to say.

"And all who heard, should see them.   There that sunny dome; those
caves of ice.    And all would cry beware - beware his flashing eyes.
His floating hair!"

Weave a circle round him thrice,
and close your eyes with holy dread,
for he on honey dew hath fed.

"And drunk the milk of paradise."
-----------------------------------------

August 2004
by David Nunes da Silva

story codes: {ASSM} Katherine and Johnny {David Nunes da Silva} (fmM bd
cons 1st hist)
web page on ASSTR: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Davo/www/
mirror of it:  http://home.alamedanet.net/~dnds

# Duncan Ramsay b.1935 = Helen Cairns  b.1936
# Jorge "George" Ilfonso Diaz Nunes b.1929 = Marigold Jane Thomas
b.1932
# Katherine Ramsay b. 4 April 1952  = João "Johnny" Maria de Fatima
Thomas Nunes   b. 16 Feb 1952

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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