Ron and I prepare dinner together every evening. We both enjoy cooking, and we look forward to this time to share the events of the day, make plans and basically reconnect with each other.
Depending on what's on the menu, one of us is the chef who prepares the entree and controls the operations. The other acts as sous chef and assists
with the preparations. We each have our own specialties and this arrangement works very well.
Tonight, Ron was in charge, and I had just finished doing the vegetables. I turned to him and put my arms around his neck for a hug. Doesn't everyone deserve a hug after peeling potatoes? He stopped what he was doing, put his hands on my waist, then slapped my bottom very hard several times, using both hands at once. Well! I wasn't expecting that!
"That's what you like, isn't it?" he asked.
"It sure is," I replied, and hugged him harder.
We then carried on with our work, chatted about this and that, and when it was ready, sat down together and enjoyed a delicious meal of roast chicken. When we had finished, I cleared the table while the animals milled around underfoot, hoping for handouts.
While I headed toward the sink with the plates, Ron picked up a round cork trivet from the counter, and whacked my bottom with it. I hardly felt it, but the loud CRACK caused pandemonium all around us. Fluffy and Fang scattered in different directions, and we had to peel Crookshanks off the ceiling.
If I know Ron, this was only a warmup for more spanking and fun later on. So what am I doing on the computer? Good question.
I'll see you all later.
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