When Cowboy and I moved to the West Coast of the United States, we did so knowing that he would have to travel back East now and then. And when he does, he stays with our good friend David who has a condo there. In return, David is always welcome in our home when he travels west. Well... David has been TDY to one of the Naval facilities out here on several occasions in the last few years and spends a lot more time at our house than he does at the DVOQ.
Sorry.... TDY = temporary duty assignment and DVOQ = Distinguished Visiting Officers' Quarters. (David is a senior officer in the U.S. Marine Corps.)
Rank does have its privileges but not in MY house. I am not intimidated by gold bars on uniform sleeves and stars on uniform shoulders don't make me stand at attention or quiver with fright. I do not say "yes sir" or "no sir," but am very inclined to say "go to hell, SIR, and #$% yourself while you're there, SIR."
So... on one of David's recent trips to visit us, Cowboy was getting the outdoor grill fired up and David was leaning on the kitchen counter drinking a beer and watching me make raspberry cream cheese brownies - one of his favorite desserts. My hands are full of flour and sugar and butter and he says in his voice of command. "Sar, get me another beer."
"Get it yourself, jarhead," I said. "You're standing next to the fridge and you can see my hands are busy."
"I want a beer, Sar. Get it now. Don't make me ask you again." His voice was just a little testy. (What? I'm gonna have to do 50 pushups? Gimme' a break!)
"I'm not your subordinate, jarhead," my evil twin replied. (I, of course, heard the words the same time he did and was shocked, truly shocked. Honest!)
"What???" he roared and gave me a swat on the ass!
I went ballistic! "How dare you!" I shouted.
"I dare very well," he grinned and spanked me again - hard. My butt was actually stinging.
I admit I don't know a lot about the formal art of self-defense. (I do live with a 6'5" - 230-240lb former Navy SeAL, after all.) But I know the basics. So... when David's arm swung back to spank me once again, I raised my knee and...
...Are the stars out tonight? Can you tell if it's cloudy or bright?...
Then, when his body curled over in wrenching pain, I followed that aged-old adage... "Hit 'em while they're down!" and chopped him on the back of the neck with the side of my flour-coated hand. He's lucky I didn't have a rolling pin near by.
Just as he went down, he raised very startled eyes to my face. I have a mean left hook and clobbered him under the chin. It got awfully quiet in my kitchen except for David's mumbles that sounded a lot like "Mmmfsg mother fucking... GNffs" sounds.
In case you didn't know, SeALs have very good hearing. Cowboy saunters in the kitchen door, takes one look at David, glares at me and rushes to the marine's side. What a wuss! Oh yeah, sure. It's my fault... duh! David is as tall as Cowboy and weighs about the same and has been clobbered by a girl who weighs less than half of him.
"What did you do?" Cowboy yells.
See! Isn't that just like a man to assume it's the woman's fault! No couth, absolutely no couth at all!
"He spanked me!" I yell back and decide this is a good time to see if Nordstrom's department store has a shoe sale. A girl can never have enough chocolate or too many shoes.
"Sar..." Cowboy growls "that" warning which means he'll deal with me as soon as he revives the marine (!) and don't you dare move!
Oh yeah, I'm thinking this is my cue to leave - so I do - with flour and butter wiped on my jeans, I literally fly to the bedroom to grab my shoulder bag. I can hear Cowboy muttering to David. "What the fuck did you do? Are you that stupid? Don't you know not to mess with her? She'll beat the crap out of you every time!"
I'm laughing because David could hold me down with one hand if he wanted to but time to gloat later. Cowboy knows all my tricks and I'm probably in for it so I'm outta there like a bat out of hell. I've been in his line of fire before - I know the consequences and decide retreat is a really good option.
I whistle for our dogs, a Rott and a Bull Mastiff and off we go to the mall. I slip their "Companion dog in training" shirts on their backs so I can take them in stores and voila! I'm free with two strong body guards. I find two pairs of shoes I have to have and damn! They ARE on sale. I drive through MacDonald's and order nine cheeseburgers, 3 orders of fries, one root beer and two strawberry shakes - hold the onions, pickles and bread. I have a burger and a shake, the Rott eats 4 (the root beer's for him) and the Bully gets the rest plus one strawberry shake.
I'm feeling good - on top of the world - and my cell phone rings.
"You better get your pretty little butt home RIGHT NOW! That's an order!"
"Who is this?" I ask in a shocked tone. "You must have the wrong number." And I hang up.
Ha! If you lived on the West coast that day and thought that sound you heard was thunder... or a squadron of fighter jets breaking the sound barrier... or maybe the angels bowling and hitting strikes... no such luck. It was definitely Cowboy.
I called David's cell phone. "Are you okay?" I ask with no regret.
"I'm good," he says and I can hear him chuckling but then I hear Cowboy's voice. "Give me the damn phone. Sar?" he yells.
I hang up and call David again. "Tell Cowboy what happened or I'll never let you in my house again."
"I told him," David chuckles. "You're in for it, sweet cheeks."
Sweet cheeks??? More like hot cross buns!
"This was all YOUR fault," I practically scream. "You make it good for me to come home, David or I will make your life a living hell."
He thinks about that for a minute because I don't make idle threats. He knows I'm good at payback and there's no telling what form it will take if I give it a lot of thought. Even seasoned marines aren't that fearless around a woman who is capable of raising PMS to an art form. Cowboy, however, is fearless.
He calls back. "You're not getting spanked, Sar."
"Truth?"
"Truth."
I come home but keep a dog on either side of me when I enter the house. All I have to say is "guard" and they won't leave my side. If I say "protect," they'd die before anyone could touch me. It's better than a safe word. Cowboy is furious; David is laughing. I am damn nervous.
"Time for you to go home, David," Cowboy growls.
"What? And miss the show? Not on your life, squid!"
The show? What show? He said he wouldn't spank me and then my slow witted brain realizes he means he wouldn't spank me for kneeing David in the groin but leaving the house when he told me not to? Hanging up when he called? And I'm sure he's certain I have cursed a blue streak.
Moi?
Hmmm. I think I'll keep the dogs near me for now.
Cowboy crosses his arms over his chest and stares me down. "Are you hungry?" he asks because I usually am.
"Sure. Whatcha' got?"
He sniffs the air. "Did you eat junk food while you were out?" his tone is accusatory because I promised I would eat more fruits and vegetables although for the life of me, I must have had too much wine when I agreed to that edict. Give me a Pop Tart or a Twinkie any day of the week and I'm happy as a lark.
"The DOGS had cheeseburgers, fries and shakes," I tell him.
I get "that look."
"Would you spank her and get it over with, for Chrissakes!" David yells. "Or do you want me to do it?"
"Touch her and die," Cowboy says softly. "We need to talk, Sar."
"With your mouth or your hand?" I need details, lots of details.
"Sar..."
"Cowboy..." It's a stand-off. The entire Navy and the Marine Corps against one girl - there are actually days when it doesn't pay to get out of bed. I wonder if I can convince the dogs to get into bed with me, tonight. They've been trained to stay off the furniture - bummer! What a dumb idea that was.
"Sar..."
This isn't going well. When Cowboy's voice gets really soft, I know I'm in deep doodoo.
"Let's get it over with," he says.
"Okay," I agree, "but I'm keeping the dogs with me."
"They're not going to save you," he growls and reaches for me.
The Rott growls a warning and stands on his hind legs with his back to my chest. The Bully stands on his hind legs and leans on Cowboy and licks his face. Grrrooosssss! If we dropped that dog's slobber on our enemies, they'd give up in a New York minute just to rid themselves of the slime.
Cowboy steps back from Bully's 165 lb weight and his lethal slime. Rott goes back to all fours. Cowboy grabs me and throws me over his shoulder and marches back to the bedroom, the growling dogs following behind. I hear David laughing. I'm going to emasculate that man as soon as I can.
Cowboy yells "Stay!" and the damn dogs do and I am now alone in a room with a man who has arms that would put Popeye to shame.
"If you spank me while you're angry, I will never forgive you," I tell him, trying to squirm out of his arms and thinking I should sign up for a class in strength training.
"I'm not angry," he says in a soft voice, one arm easily holding me in place.
Oh yeah - sure - I believe that - when pigs fly.
He wants to know what happened between me and David and I give him my side of the story. He agrees David was being highhanded but that I should have yelled for him instead of hurting the wuss and I never should have left the house. Then he wants to look at my knee to see if it's bruised.
Forget it! Not on your life! I'd have to take my jeans down to show him my knee. I'm not THAT stupid.
Hell, yes! I got to examine the carpet. Cowboy's hand is large and it stings like hell. I don't normally yell when I'm on the receiving end of a bare bottom spanking but I knew the dogs were on the other side of the door... I yell, they howl. It is NOT a pretty sound.
Then I go limp. That's Cowboy's cue that I've had as much as I can take. Did I mention there's a little brat in me? I can go limp on cue! Works every time. SeALs don't know EVERYthing.
I hear David laughing. I am definitely going to emasculate that marine!
After the spanking that I did NOT deserve, I ask Cowboy if he would have let David spank me.
"Never!" he swears, rubbing the sting out of my sore butt. "No one touches you except me."
That wasn't quite as comforting as I thought it should be...
~Sar~