ON THE SET

"THE LONGEST DAY"
(part Two of Three)

After getting into a fight with Melissa during a visit at the Tate Gallery, Alan spanks Emma in a closed exposition room in the museum, then takes her and Sammie home while Melissa gets a chew-out from their teacher. Sammie talks to Alan in his study about how scared she is when he’s in ‘spanking-mode’, and he reiterates that he loves her and cares for her and will spank her if necessary, and she comes to accept it as a fact. Meanwhile, Emma receives most welcome news: Melissa’s parents are making her come over to their house and apologise to Alan!

When the doorbell rang, less than half a hour later, Alan stood from his chair to go and open the front door – Waiting in the living room he found Emma and Sammie, who looked like Christmas had come early. "Now, now, girls," he said, hardly repressing a smirk himself. "Be nice, alright?"

They smirked back and snickered together, but nodded. Alan opened the door to find two very weary looking parents and their spawn of Satan that they called a child looking extremely angry.

"Well, good afternoon... Mrs. and Mr. Weston, I presume?" he said, tending his hand. "And Melissa, of course." He could hear the girls giggle behind his back.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rickman, we are both fans of yours," the father said while he and his wife shook his hand.

Alan gave them one of his photo shoots smiles. "How funny, I’m a fan of yours as well," he said. "You have all my admiration, from parent to parent," he said glancing at Melissa, silently implying that they were like saints to be bearing with such a terror.

Mrs. Weston nudged Melissa as Alan invited them into the small sitting room beside the entrance. The girl glared fiercely at her mother, looking as though fire might come out her mouth at any moment.

"Please, have a seat," he said, taking his usual armchair while Emma sat on the arm at his side and Sammie sat cross-legged on the floor. "I gather from my daughter that there is something you need to tell me?"

"Well, yes," Mr. Weston began, clearing his throat. "First of all, we are sorry for what happened today, especially for Melissa’s attitude. There are not enough words for us to apologise. Melissa does have something to say as well, by the way," he added, turning to his daughter, who was standing by the chair her mother was sitting on, and wearing a dark expression on her face.

They all waited, and finally the girl opened her mouth, but surprisingly enough no fire came out, but only a: "Sorry," that she rather chewed more than pronounce.

Alan put a hand on Emma’s arm to make sure she didn’t jump up and yell all her happiness, though he was sure this was one of the best moments in her life – it was rather pleasant to him as well, to tell the truth!

"I understand, your apology is very welcome, and yours is too, Melissa. I like to believe it was only an unfortunate slip, wasn’t it?" he smiled placidly, while Melissa just scowled.

"Now run along and play girls, us adults will talk for a bit," said Mrs. Weston from her chair, smiling at Emma and Sammie and casting a dark side look at her own daughter.

All three girls looked unhappy to be talked to as though they were five years old. Especially Emma and Sammie looked up at Alan with pleading looks: it was definitely not their fondest wish to entertain Melissa Weston!

Looking back at them, Alan raised his eyebrows. "Come on, you heard Mrs. Weston. We need a little privacy. Emmy, why don’t you show Melissa your room, hmm?" He heard Sammie murmur "or the bog, rather" but he chose to ignore that.

The girls all gave one very heavy sigh in unison, showing that at least on that they could agree!, but other than that, they stood and left the room, with Melissa putting extreme care into being as far from the other two as possible. And the look Emma shot Alan clearly stated that she felt he would owe her for this. As soon as the three early-teens disappeared, Mrs. Weston turned back to Alan:

"Again, we are so sorry Mr. Rickman, our daughter is... well..." her voice trailed off, as the woman was quite unsure how to put it.

Shifting position in his armchair, Alan crossed his legs and waited for her to find the correct words, knowing that the adjectives for Melissa that were flashing through his mind would not be rated as ‘properly gentlemanly’, and therefore he would better not suggest them.

"She has issues," Mr. Weston finally spoke up, "controlling herself and dealing with people in a decent manner."

"I am sorry to hear that," he said, nodding slowly. "Though I can’t say I didn’t notice... Emma is rather un-fond of certain remarks of Melissa’s towards her, unfortunately."

There was a faint, but not unnoticeable blush on the Westons’ faces. "Yes, we get rather frequent complains," said the man, "and we are running out of ideas. So most of the time, we go with it."

"I understand your situation," Alan said, trying to sound comprehensive – and he really was, for his memory went back to months earlier, when Emma was just like Melissa, if not worse. "I can tell you I have run through the same problem with Emma some months ago, while now things seem to have settled."

Mrs. Weston sat still for a moment, nodding, pondering his words and thinking... and a moment later, just out of the blue, Sammie ran downstairs, bursting into tears, her face ablaze, and she ran out the door, slamming it behind her, without even picking her jacket.

Melissa followed seconds later, hiding behind her mother. "Mother, she is going to kill me!" she yelled as Emma charged after her, looking ballistic.

Alan had jumped up as Sammie had sprinted through the living room, and had tried to catch her, but to no avail. Now he moved fast and stopped Emma in her tracks, preventing her from attacking Melissa. Em’s fists were balled and she looked totally enraged, her face red and swollen with anger.

"Hey hey hey, easy! What in the world is going on?" he said, rather aloud.

"What the hell..." Mr. Weston exclaimed, hands in his hair, an expression of what-has-she-done-this-time painted on his face.

"I AM going to kill her NOW, and then I have to find Sammie, let me go, I wanna beat her up!" Emma yelled, struggling against Alan’s hold.

Melissa attempted to look like the victim in the situation, and Mrs. Weston looked between the two girls, utterly confused, instinctively protecting her daughter but not knowing what was going on – and quite keen on believing that somehow it was Melissa’s fault.

"You’re so not beating anyone up," Alan said, restraining Emma though she squirmed a lot.

"What happened?" Mr. Weston said, looking at her daughter, then at Emma. "What was wrong with Samantha?".

"A good question," said Alan.

"SHE!" Emma pointed an accusing finger at Melissa, "that’s what! She called her stupid! Told her toddlers were smarter then her ‘cos she can’t even read! Sammie has dyslexia, for God’s sake!" Emma yelled. "It’s not her fault and she is very smart! Now let me kick her arse!"

Alan sighed and his heart broke thinking of Sammie and how she must have felt – he didn’t even know she was dyslexic, poor honey – but he said nothing, being too busy keeping Emma as still as he could, and finally sensing her calm down a bit; even her enraged teenage angst could do nothing against his strong, but somehow gentle arms around her torso.

On the other hand, Mr. Weston looked at his daughter with a look of utter disbelief: "Say it isn’t true, Lyssa..." he said, practically begging her to say that.

Melissa lifted her nose in the air and pointed at Emma with her chin. "Like you believe her?"

"My daughter is not a liar, young lady!" Alan thundered toward Melissa, loosening his grip on Emma for a second, but it was too late: that really did it for Emmy who, once released from Alan’s grasp, stormed into the kitchen and returned with a large wooden spoon and began chasing Melissa all over again, brandishing the item as though it was a club and looking very threatening indeed.

Not believing what was going on before him, he just kept looking at the Westons, until he saw Emma and her "weapon", and again ran to intercept her.

"If I can’t beat you up, I’ll do something else you brat!" Emma yelled, chasing a screaming Melissa around the room and through a hallway and back around in the circle.

Mrs. Weston looked like she was going to faint, or start babbling from confusion. Actually, all of the three adults were going frantic by now, and none of them seemed to have a clue about what to do to stop the two raging teenagers, but finally Alan managed to grab Emma and restrain her again, and take the wooden spoon from her hand.

"I would know what to do too if I were you, Mrs. Weston," he said, pointing the spoon meaningfully towards Melissa, who had now ducked behind her pale mother again. "And you calm down right NOW Emma, or else!" he snapped at his own daughter, casting her a death look...

... a look which Emma knew all too well, so she gulped and stood still, nodding and muttering "okay", and instead of charging after Melissa again, squeezed Alan’s hand as she tried to calm herself down.

"What are you talking about?" both the Westons asked Alan.

Alan squeezed Emmy’s hand back as though to make her understand that her efforts to calm down were appreciated, then dedicated his full attention to the Westons. "I’m talking about taking this spoon and teach Melissa once and for all some respect in the way she treats other people!" he said, now quite angry himself.

Both of the Westons stared at Alan. "You want us to beat our daughter?" Mrs. Weston gasped. "Oh my Goodness, that is just... just..."

Despite her best efforts, Emma couldn’t help but groan. "For the love of God, he means spank the crap out of her already!" she exclaimed.

Normally Alan would scold Emma for being less than ladylike in her language, but not this one time. Instead, he said: "Yes I’m suggesting that one of you takes Melissa across your lap right now and give her the sound SPANKING she’s been deserving for fourteen long years."

They just stared at him, motionless, speechless, colourless and most of all clueless.

Seeing that that had got a reaction – especially out of Melissa, who was going white in the face – Alan let go of Emma and approached them. "When I knew Emma, she was just like Melissa, and you know what? A few spankings here and there straightened her out. She’s a lovely girl now, and although she still needs a firm hand applied to her bottom from time to time, she makes me very proud of her." He could feel Em still squeezing his hand, harder now. "She’s learnt what discipline is, and that acting up earns her a sore bottom. I normally don’t advocate corporal punishment, but I don’t call this ‘beating up’, I call it alternative parenting in extreme cases. And you said yourselves you ran out of ideas."

He was being deliberately theatrical in his manners, because he hoped to get to the Westons somehow. At his side, little Emma breathed heavy and still clung to his hand, glancing out of the window now and then to see if Sammie was still in sight, but not spotting her. She was very afraid about her friend, scared even, because if something happened to Sam she would feel like dying; at the same time, memories of her past life flashed through her mind, when she was the rebellious, snotty and snobby Emma, out-of-control, acting like a teen queen just because she had no other way to draw attention and because she didn’t feel loved. With Alan that love had come, and all of the consequences for it. She wondered why, in the end, Melissa acted that way, since her parents did seem to care for her.

Melissa herself was looking more and more nervous as the conversation progressed. "I don’t think that is a good idea.... he’s a loony, why are you listening to him?"

While Alan’s eyes narrowed, Emma bit her tongue to avoid replying to her, and she thought she’d better stomp away as soon as possible. "I am going to look for Sammie, dad," she announced, letting go of his hand and grabbing her coat.

Alan nodded at his daughter. "Yes... if you can’t find her, be back in ten minutes."

Emma nodded obediently and stormed out of the door. "Yes daddy."

Then Alan to the Westons. "I’m not trying to tell you what sort of parents you should be, but Melissa’s attitude definitely needs an adjustment, in my opinion... Emma doesn’t even dare to call anyone a ‘loony’, especially an adult, and that’s the least of the insults I got from your daughter."

The Westons couldn’t help but watch as some colour came back to their faces, but it was the colour of those who are blushing out of deep embarrassment, all the while Melissa looked outraged.

* * *

"SAMMIE!!!!" Emma yelled with all the voice she could muster, looking around the large yard of the Rickmans’ house. "Sammie where are you?!"

* * *

Inside, Mr. and Mrs. Weston were still unable to take a decision, or to make a move... until Melissa’s mother cast her daughter a resolute look. "What if he’s right?" she simply said.

Melissa stomped, a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look on her face. "Don’t be stupid mother!"

Mr. Weston blinked, and approached Melissa. "What did you say?" he scowled, an angry look in his eyes.

Alan just stood, still holding the spoon, waiting.

"I told her not to be stupid!" Melissa told him.

With one quick motion, Mr. Weston grabbed his daughter’s elbow. "How dare you speak to your mother like that?" he hissed. Alan had never seen anyone more pissed.

Melissa rolled her eyes. "Thank you Mr. Rickman, you’ve turned my parents into even more idiotic people then they were!"

Alan froze her with an icy look, shaking his head, while Mrs. Weston took Melissa’s chin and forced her to face her. "You don’t even realise the mess you’re in, do you? Oh, things are going to change around here, Lyssa... they are SO going to change!" she yelled in her face.

"Shut up!" Melissa roared at them

"You shut up, Melissa Elisabeth Weston!" her father roared back, using her full name for the first time in her life.

Melissa looked shocked, then pouted and stomped her foot, but to the amazement of all, she did not say another word.

* * *

There was a tree house in the Rickmans’ neighbours’ garden. It was build of solid oak and though it had been crafted for eight-year-olds, it could still support Sammie’s weight. It was there that Emma found her, her best friend folded in one corner of the small house in fetal position, knees on chest, arms hugging knees, head down, and weeping hard.

"Oh Sam..."

"She’s mean... I don’t want to see her ever again, it hurts too much," Sammie cried.

Emma had never seen her like that ever since they had met, on that first day in kindergarten that now felt like ages ago. She sat beside her and hugged her tight. "I hate her forever and ever, but I love you to pieces, you’re my best friend ever, don’t cry Sammie, please?" she almost begged, because seeing her like that hurt, and it hurt bad in her chest. "And come back inside, it’s cold here!"

Sammie shook her head, but hugged Emma back and found some comfort in her arms. "I love you too..." she stuttered. "You don’t care if I’m s-stupid and all that...?"

Emma scowled and gave Sammie a little shake, forcing her to look in her eye. "You listen here girl! You are not stupid AT ALL! You are very smart! It’s not like you’re failing your classes, silly goose! Now stop thinking that or else!"

Still Sammie kept sobbing in her best friend’s arms, but dried her eyes and allowed herself a little smile. "Else what, you gonna have your dad spank me?" she made a feeble attempt at a joke.

Emma giggled. "Nah, I just will eat all the cookie dough ice cream without you tonight. Now come on, he said ten minutes and I had to be back, and I am freezing my arse off and do not want it warmed *that* way thank you!" she tugged on Sammie’s hand. "Come on, I have The Two Towers on extended DVD we’ll have a Legolas feast, and then even watch some James Bond!"

Warmed up by her friend’s oh-so-sweet words – and totally wanting to do one of their usual movie marathons locked away in Emma’s bedroom with tons of candy and soda and pops and hair-combing and everything – Sammie managed to giggle back a little and hugged Emma again, then followed her out of the tree house and back to the Rickmans’ yard.

* * *

"You’re going to get a spanking," Mrs. Weston sentenced, looking at Melissa sternly... but the stubborn teenager just laughed, not believing a word of it.

"Laughing..." said Mr. Weston, turning to Alan. "See? She laughs! She doesn’t care! Anything you tell her goes through her brain as if it wasn’t there!"

"I don’t think she’ll laugh after you used this," Alan said, and handed Mrs. Weston the spoon.

Melissa started to struggle against the strong arm that held her. Just then, Emma and Sammie were passing the window, ready to get back inside, and Emma pulled Sammie down. "Look, dad handed her mom the spoon! Ooh, I think she’s gonna get it!"

Ducking just below the window, Sammie couldn’t believe her eyes and ears. "Pierce Brosnan-dearie will have to wait, this is SO much better!" she giggled.

Inside, Mrs. Weston took hold of the spoon and showed it to her daughter. "This is what I mean for ‘a change’, Melissa!"

"Yeah really," Emma agreed. "This is the best ever!" and the girls exchanged excited smirks.

"Mummy, you can’t!" Melissa wailed.

"Watch me," said Mrs. Weston, and she plopped herself back down on the armchair, roughly dragging a dumbstruck Melissa over her lap.

"MUMMY!" Melissa screamed.

"Where is a camcorder when you need one?" Emma moaned.

That little comment had an idea flash through Sammie’s head, and she quickly pulled out her cell phone. "Oh gosh!" she exclaimed, not believing her luck. "This can take pics at least!"

By now, Mrs. Weston had turned into a convinced pro-spanker, and with her husband’s help she pulled Melissa’s pants down to her knees, all the while Alan watched, not without a smirk.

"SWEET!" the girls exclaimed from out the window.

Emma smirked and nodded. "Totally."

"Yeah, boo-yah," Sammie replied.

"Mummy, stop, I love you!" Melissa wailed.

But Mrs. Weston gave a quick tug to Melissa’s thong underwear, having it fall to her knees and exposing her plump bare bottom, which faced the window and the two giggling girls outside.

"I love you, if you really care to know!" And with that she smacked the spoon down on Melissa’s bottom with a loud CRRACCCK!!

Not knowing how else to react, Melissa screamed.

Emma snickered as Sammie took a picture portraying the spoon landing on the girl’s chubby bare bottom, the flesh jiggling and reddening. She quickly stored the photo and automatically sent it to all her friends’ cell phones, giggling like mad.

Mrs. Weston didn’t stop seeing the red blotch the spoon had produced, and smacked Melissa again and again, raining down the blows fast and hard, while her husband tried to keep the girl as steady as possible. Alan, of course, had taken his seat again and watched as though he was at the theatre. Where’s honey-flavoured popcorn when you need it?...

Meanwhile Melissa screamed and wailed, crying already.

"Wow, her butt is more virgin than mine for spankings," Sammie whispered, sending Emma into a fit of giggles.

Inside, Mrs. Weston kept it up until her daughter’s full bottom cheeks were turned to a bright shade of red. "You’re going to do as WE say and you’re going to do it WHEN we say, do SMACK you SMACK understand SMACK young SMACK lady??" She stopped, waiting for an answer.

"Yes mummy, stop now PLEASE!" Melissa screeched.

"How many pictures have you sent?" Emma asked

"Memory card’s almost full," Sammie giggled.

"I want to hear you say ‘yes ma’am I’m sorry and I will be a good girl’, do you understand?" SMACK SMACK to her sit-spot.

"YES MA’AM I SORREE I BE A GOOD GIRRRRRRRRL!" she screamed, sobbing hard.

"Oh, school is gonna rock on Monday!" Emma said with a wink.

"Not just our school," Sammie said, "I’ve got friends at Parsons, Eddington, Gilmore, Chilton..." and she dissolved in other giggles, which had Emma laughing and holding her tummy.

Inside, Mrs. Weston looked up at her husband, who nodded approvingly, and said. "Finally, Melissa!" Her mother smacked her bottom twice more, then released her grip on the sobbing girl.

The teenager fell over and quickly rose to her feet again, then did a wonderful version of the notorious Dance of the Well-Spanked Little Girl as Emma and Sammie rolled around on the ground, giggling too hard to even talk.

"Now that was a show-stopping number!" Emma said.

After watching the whole thing, Alan finally stood from the armchair and approached Mrs. Weston. "Well, I’m rather speechless... my congratulations, if I may dare."

The woman smiled, still breathing heavily. "Thank you for enlightening us. And tell your lovely daughter and her friend that we are very sorry, I hope the girl is found soon."

Very little else was said, and as soon as Melissa had put her clothes back on, Mr. and Mrs. Weston hauled the sobbing girl out to their car, swatting her backside the whole way, and promising to give her seconds as soon as they got home.

The words "just wait till I get you home and take your panties down again, Lyssa!", spoken by her father in a no-nonsense, strict tone, would remain engraved in Emma and Sammie’s memory as long as they would live!

click here for pictures of Emma and Alan