Hot Cross Buns

"Did you know the other day I got spanked?" HB says to me while picking up an ornamental trinket off the department store display table.

"Um... what?" I reply, my head crooning around at breakneck speed.

Putting the knickknack aside and promenading along the aisle, HB continues, "Yes. It was rather interesting. I've never tried it before, and I figured, 'why not'?" She flashes me a dazzling bleached smile.

HB is a fascinatingly beautiful and brilliantly educated woman. Surrounded with a cool air of accomplishment, she has a world class demeanor and oceans deep enjoyment of new indulgences (read: she's humorously kinky at times). Much like Samantha on Sex and the City, HB has the kind of self-confidence to schmooze and canoodle with anyone, and also possesses the farcical self-delusion to actually attempt it. Yes, HB's all that, and can even eat a bag of chips... usually because she'll run a few miles afterward.

"Oh realllllyyyy? Do go on, my dear HB. Do go on," I prod, knowing it's going to be a doozy of a story.

"Yes, so there I am, in a little role play. Apparently I was a school girl being punished for something, or maybe I was being initiated into a college meat mixer, or risque sorority. I really can't remember." We stroll along, and I notice other shoppers are giving us sideways glances, since HB doesn't whisper. "So, I'm being spanked with Mr. S's hand and he stops and gets what I figure is a frat-boy paddle. Anyway, he starts using his 'paddle'," she holds up her fingers to mimic a quotation by twitching them up and down,"and I'm playing along, making sure it's not too rough, because as we all know, if any one's going to be brusque, it's going to be me." She twinkles her eyes at a family passing by.

I pinch my lower lip between my fingers and look away, but tell her to go on. "And I'm calling out my hail Marys and such, then I look back and notice something is amiss. I had one of those 'what's going on back there?' moments."

"Oh, what happened?"

"I say, 'Wait, wait wait, stop!' and ask Mr. S, 'Is that a bread board you're spanking me with?'" HB smiles broadly, "He looses a little bit of color and gives me an affirmative answer. I give him this incredulous look. Then I smile and tell him I'll be right back."

I chuckle a little, knowing that HB was about to do something clever, and imagining HB tapping Mr. S's nose then walking out the bedroom door. I ask, "What did you do next? And how did you know it was a bread board?"

"Oh, BP, you know me and cookware;" nodding toward me with raised eyebrows, "Who else would know a breadboard when they see one - even if it's in the bread, I mean bedroom? So, I went straight to Mr. S's kitchen and grabbed a wooden spoon and a stick of butter from the counter and walked back. I look him straight in the eye and boldly say, 'Here, why don't you just butter up my buns next? But, my dear, that bread board in your hand isn't cutting it.'" HB tilts back in laughter and places a delicate hand over her chest, "He stopped immediately because I could not stop laughing at how ridiculous it was. Honestly, a bread board? Come on! If you're going to do kinky things, at least get the right equipment, or someone is going to call you on it."

"Hahahahah! I can't believe it! What happened next," I expectantly inquire.

"Well, since I couldn't stop laughing, I had to leave. After all, you know what they say," HB holds up the sleeve of a man's suit, "clothes make the man, leather makes the daddy; novelty breadboards just make you hungry."