There was a telephone message on her answering machine that Chris would be by to pick her up for dinner at 7 PM. Her first thought was to flee to the country buffet at the local mall and pig out on deep fried chicken, mashed potatoes swimming in gravy and hot biscuits and butter and apple pie ala mode. Her second thought was to see if she had enough frequent flier miles to make it to the next state. Her last thought was that *he* was the pig and he had a lot of nerve putting her in this position and who did he think he was and by God! She was going to stay home and just ignore him, so there!
She checked to make sure there was a pepper spray gun in every room in the house and that all of them were fully functional.
As the hour approached she thought he'd call to cancel - mumble something about a police emergency. Maybe the tactical squad had an opening and he was so good at what he did, whatever that was-- "... helping old ladies across the street, ticketing drivers with expired registrations, buying groceries for the SWAT team and spending weeks with them as their short order cook, whatever!"
He was punctual, arriving at 7 PM sharp.
Dorothy rolled her eyes when she heard the doorbell ring; he was too good to be true. He could even tell time! Would wonders never cease?
Her roommate, Rosemarie, answered the door and smiled at the handsome man standing there. "You're Chris," she giggled. "From last night, right?"
"Right," Chris answered, smiling back.
"Doro didn't say you were coming over. C'mon in. I'll go get her. Uh," she paused. "You're here to see her, right?"
"Right. Is she ready?"
"Ready?" Rosemarie thought for a moment. "Ready for what?"
"I'm taking Dorothy out for dinner," he answered.
"You are?" Rosemarie was flabbergasted. "Doro has a date? Wow!"
"Will you tell her I'm here?" he asked politely.
Dorothy knew he had arrived. She was hiding in the bathroom and she wasn't coming out until she had lost 20 pounds and her fairy godmother had transformed her into Helen of Troy or Hell froze over, whichever came first.
Fifteen minutes passed - 900 long seconds - and a familiar soft knock on the bathroom door caused goose bumps to rise on her skin.
"Why are you hiding in the bathroom, Commando Pierson?"
"I'm not hiding."
"Come out," he chuckled.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
"Because you're here. Go away and I'll come out."
Chris reached for the doorknob and then thought better of it. He stepped back and settled against the wall just as he had done the night before. He knew it was just a matter of time before she came out and when she did, he'd shield his eyes in case she had pepper spray. When Rosemarie showed her face, he waved her away and mouthed that she should leave the house.
Rosemarie giggled at the thought of fat and plain ol Doro in the house along with the handsome police officer and nodded that she would go out for the evening.
An hour passed before Dorothy opened the bathroom door, the quiet unsettling her and her curiosity eating her insides. She peeked around the door and seeing nothing, stepped into the hall.
Chris waited until she was clear of the door and grabbed her from behind. Her shrieks were deafening but his laughter was even louder.
"You thought you'd stand me up, Commando Pierson? Shame on you! I thought you had more courage than that."
"You let me go," she huffed and tried to squirm out of his arms but he held on tight.
"Nope," he said firmly. "I've waited a lifetime for you and I'm not about to let you go now."
"You're a loon," she hissed and tried to stomp his toes. Belatedly, she realized she was barefoot and he was wearing hard leather shoes.
"Yeoouch!" she shouted and then completely out of character, Dorothy Pierson burst into tears.
"Oh baby," he crooned softly. "That must have hurt. Gonna fix you up right now," he continued his soft cadence. "Gonna rub your little foot and kiss it and make it all better. And then," he added as he half carried, half dragged her resisting body to her bedroom, "I'm gonna make you regret trying to stand me up!"
"What? If you think you're going to spank me again, you've got another think coming!" she hissed as she fought in earnest.
The battle was over before it had begun; Dorothy was face down over his lap once again and once again, his hand stung her bottom cheeks. This time, her bottom wasn't bared, her jeans still in place. It hurt, it stung but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been the night before. She managed to suffer through the brief assault on her bottom cheeks.
"What do you have to say for yourself, Commando Pierson?" he asked as he pulled her upright and into his arms.
"I thought you - well, I mean, I thought you were just, uh - I didn't expect you to really take me out to dinner," she muttered when she caught her breath.
"And why is that?" he asked gently, his palm cupping her cheek, his fingers lingering as he pondered her tears.
"Because nobody, I mean I don't - uh, this isn't working," she sighed, wondering how she found herself on this gorgeous man's lap, positive her weight was bruising his thighs and tried to get off of him.
"I'll spank you if you try to get off my lap, Commando Pierson," he said softly as he hugged her closer. "I'll bare your pretty bottom and spank you until your butt is so hot you'll be able to fry eggs - well done ones."
"You're a loon," she whispered just as his mouth covered hers.
And when he finally lifted his mouth, he whispered back that she was the most beautiful woman on Planet Earth and he was ready to propose then and there but thought she'd like to get to know the man who planned to spank her for the rest of her life.
"Is everyone in your family as loony-tunes as you are?" she asked, giving up and leaning against his chest, secretly cherishing the feel of hard muscle and knowing she would remember it long after he left her life.
"My entire family is loony-tunes," he laughed, loving the expression. "I'm the normal one."
"What?" Dorothy looked up at the man she barely knew, the man that had spanked her royally, the man that had kissed her wondrously, the man that had just said he wanted to propose. "How's your eyesight, Officer Rutherford? Don't police people have to pass some kind of vision test? And your judgement? You have a relative on the police force that lets you get by with your lack of judgement. I think--"
"I think you'd better stop while you can," he said in that same soft tone he used just before he spanked her the night before. "Some men like a full-bodied woman and I happen to be one of them."
"Full-bodied?" she smirked. "I'm just plain fat! I'm a good 20 pounds overweight and plain as a Yukon potato and--"
"And about to get your fanny paddled from here to kingdom come!" he said in a much louder voice. "Don't tell me what I know, Dorothy Pierson. I love the way you look. I love your high spirits and your big brown eyes and your sweet smile and your fierce way of glaring at me. I love your soft round sweetness and I love your mouth. Oh yeah," he murmured as his mouth claimed hers once again. "I love your mouth."
Feisty and independent Dorothy Pierson, the woman who had been raised by parents that stole any self-esteem she was born with, the fat, lonely child that had grown up sitting on the sidelines was in the process of being thoroughly kissed. And not just kissed by anyone, but by the most handsome police officer on the face of the planet. The next most amazing thing, she thought, as he held her tenderly and continued to kiss her was that the earth remained on its axis and so far, no sirens were screaming in the distance announcing that Hell had frozen over. She grabbed every moment of his embrace and absorbed every detail. This was the first and probably the last time this would ever happen and she wanted to remember each and every precious second of being held in a man's strong arms.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself, Commando Pierson?" he asked when he finally pulled his mouth away from hers.
"Are you mentally well?" she asked and then bit her lip that her mouth had run awry before she could contain herself.
He narrowed his eyes. She giggled. And then asked in all seriousness if this was a wager - if this was something he had sworn to do to win a bet with all those hunky police officers that came by the park whenever there was an incident. "What do you have to do?" she asked. "Convince me that I'm something special? Pretend you really like me? Seduce fat ol me and win the precinct's award for scoring the most unlikely woman in town? Tell me what it is and I'll pretend it happened. Then you won't have to go through with all this. I'm sure it's distasteful to you to have to pretend you like kissing me."
Chris Rutherford had never been put down quite so badly. In all his encounters with women, he had never had to pursue one; they all chased him. If he stopped a vehicle for a traffic incident and it was a woman - aged 16 to 70 - they flirted with him. If he had to appear in court and the bailiff or one of the attorneys or even the judge was female, there was at least one incident of flirtation, blatant or surreptitious but flirtation just the same. He was up for detective and had been told more than once that he could earn his gold shield a lot faster if he was just a little bit nicer to the female sergeant grading the exam.
And now this woman on his lap, a beautiful woman in his eyes, was thinking the worst of him. He believed her when she said she thought she was fat. He believed she'd probably heard that all her life. He believed she had been belittled for too many years and could only conclude that he was out to seduce her because of some ulterior motive. She may not think she was beautiful but in his estimation, she was the epitome of what God intended when He created woman. This was Eve. This was *his* Eve.
"What do I have to say to convince you that I want you in my life?" he asked softly, his arms still holding her close, afraid that if he let her go, he'd never hold her again. "What do I have to do? I can spank you until you think you'll never sit again and you won't," he warned, catching her face between his palms. "Or I can kiss you senseless. Will that convince you?"
"Convince me with kisses," Dorothy said without thinking.
He laughed and then he set about convincing her. And after she was thoroughly convinced, he flipped her over his lap and reinforced his thoughts with a brief but sound spanking that had her gasping for breath and begging him to stop.
"Ready for dinner now, Commando Pierson?" he asked when he pulled her upright and into a snug embrace.
"Not sure I can eat after all this," she mumbled, certain her face was as red as her butt.
"Pizza," he decided. "And I prefer sausage and green peppers."
"Green peppers on pizza?" she managed to smirk. "Mushrooms and pepperoni and extra cheese or you can eat alone, Officer Rutherford."
"I'll take it with anything as long as you share it with me, Commando Pierson and I'd consider it an honor if you would," he smiled.
"My friends call me Doro," she said later when they had eaten their full.
"My friends call me Chris," he answered.
"If you're going to keep on spanking me, I think I prefer Officer Rutherford," she teased.
She was flirting and it gladdened his heart to see it. He teased her in return. "In that case, I think I'll stick with Commando Pierson," he chuckled. "In case I need a good strategy for self-defense."
~~~
The weeks passed and with each dinner date, leisurely afternoon and other sweet times spent in Chris Rutherford's company, Dorothy grew more confident in herself. She had a glow about her and it softened her. Chris relished the change in her and one evening, asked if she'd like to attend a party one of his buddies was throwing.
"Do I have to wear a dress?" she asked. "'Cause I don't own one," she added.
"I guess it's about time we bought you one," he teased. "It would be much easier to spank you if all I have to do is flip you over my lap and slip my hand under your skirt. Pulling your panties down would be a snap," he laughed and then laughed louder at Dorothy's look of horror and indignation.
"I don't have to go to this party, you know," she huffed.
"No, you don't," he agreed, pulling her into his arms. "But I'd love to show you off. I've told everyone what a doll you are."
"A doll?" Dorothy paused and looked up at the most gorgeous looking man she'd ever seen. No one had ever referred to her as a doll before. Plain Jane, yes, but a doll? Never.
They were greeted warmly at the party; Chris was well liked and he had rarely brought a date so everyone was curious about Dorothy. When the men realized she was "self-defense" Dorothy from the county park, they were even happier to see her. She had a good reputation for running a safe recreation spot for the neighborhood kids and all remembered her innovative ways of deterring crime at the park. Most of the women were equally courteous and friendly. Any friend of Chris was a friend of theirs and there was no doubt that Chris was crazy about sweet Doro.
Except for his former girlfriend who attended the party with her latest male acquisition.
"So-o-o-o," she drawled. "*This* is what replaced me? This cutie pie with excess baggage around her hips and a face that only a mother could love? You've really lowered your standards, Chris Rutherford. Good thing I moved on before you turned me into the Pillsbury dough boy-- er-- girl."
The silence in the room was deafening. It took all of Dorothy's will power not to run from the house and just when she thought she'd die of embarrassment - everyone was looking at her - Chris caught her in a tender embrace.
"I love you," he said softly but loud enough for everyone to hear. "I love your sweetness and your feisty spirit. I love your big brown eyes and your sweet smile and the honesty that pours out of you. I love your body that is round in all the right places and I'm going to love you even more when you marry me and give me children. I only hope our girls are as beautiful as you are."
"What?" Dorothy inhaled as she looked up at the man who told her she was beautiful.
The room faded and everyone in it as he told her yet again how much he loved her. "Will you marry me, Commando Pierson?"
"Why?" she asked, unsure if she was dreaming.
"If you don't marry me, I'll turn you over my knee right here and blister your bottom."
"In that case, I'll marry you," she laughed.
And she did.
Years later, whenever asked why she had married a man who had threatened to spank her in front of God and company, Dorothy Pierson Rutherford replied, "It was self-defense."