Bait And Switch, Part One

Hey Spankos!

Guess I forgot to mention that I’d be late posting this week because I was on vacation at a place with no internet. Just got back last night. Sorry Mathbard and Kitty, I know you zipped here to be ahead of Paul and PK. Next week, I’ll post on Thursday because we’re going away yet again.

Anyhoo, here’s a new story for you, the first in a series of twelve stories that will be compiled into a book later on this year. I haven’t decided what to call it yet, but all the stories surround spoiled princesses who learn not to order their men around like slaves. The hard way. Right now it’s the Spoiled Princess Series or the First Time Spanking Stories. Or something. I’m too tired to figure it out now.

So here’s the first part of the first story. See you next week!

Hugs,
Michelle

Tiffany glared ahead at the road so mad, she burned inside. Dave sure had a great time talking to that waitress. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her chest. Tiff was surprised he hadn’t ordered boobs with a side of fries instead of that burger.

Her new husband had a lot to learn. You don’t disrespect Tiffany. You don’t ogle other women when you’re with Tiffany. Tiffany comes first. Always.

Big dumb jerk. While she might have given him a pass on the waitress—since her breasts took up nearly half her body—but he’d flirted with the gas station girl and the clerk at the hotel that morning. Seemed like every other woman on the planet had his attention but his new wife.

“What’s wrong?” Dave asked, breaking the half hour silence.

Should she respond? Not sure.

“Tiff?”

“What?” she bit out, but she still wouldn’t look at him.

He glanced at her, then back to the traffic. “You haven’t said a word since we left the restaurant. Are you okay?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

He sighed. “I have no idea,” he replied quietly.

Adding insult to injury, the man shut up and didn’t ask again. Her blood boiled until steam poured through her veins. She knew she picked the wrong husband! She’d had her pick of ten men, why had she picked Dave?

So what if he was the hottest and had the best job? Cliff would have been much more compliant. He’d begged her to marry him at least every month for a year. Jeffrey asked three times. Jared cried when she turned him down. But Dave only asked once and for some reason, she’d said yes. Certainly, she loved him. But marriage wasn’t just about love, it was about having someone who would do things for you. Anticipate your needs and fulfill them. Just like Daddy.

She missed Daddy. He’d warned her that Dave might give her some trouble. Dave had worked for Daddy for four years and had left to start his own business. Tiff had met him when she was out with Daddy at a restaurant. She hadn’t met Dave when he’d worked for Daddy because she’d been away at Vassar. As soon as she’d laid eyes on the tall hunk, she’d wanted him. His cool mahogany eyes, his impeccable taste in clothes and cars, along with his sophisticated knowledge of wines and the stock market had turned her head. Didn’t hurt that he was beyond buff.

But he was the most stubborn man she’d ever met. His way or the highway. That’s what Daddy said. “You won’t be able to wrap him around your little finger, Princess.”

But Daddy didn’t know his little girl that well. Tiffany could wrap any man around her little finger. It hadn’t taken long to get Dave to propose. It was after he’d given her the three carat yellow diamond engagement ring that the troubles began. It started off with him balking at a few of her demands and had escalated to the point where he’d planned this whole vacation without her input.

And now she knew why he’d planned it without her help. His vacation plan was actually a tour of all the cheap whores of Northern California. Every place they stopped just happened to have a beautiful woman behind the counter. And Dave seemed incapable of driving more than a mile without stopping. Yelp, sure. More than likely he went to cheap-hot-babes-in-diners.com and downloaded the whole list.

She gritted her teeth, tapped her foot and gripped her tiny shorts so hard, she almost pulled them off.

Dave signaled and pulled off at Williams.

Tiff’s face went hot. “We’re stopping again?”

“I want an iced coffee. They have an olive tasting room, too. Great garlic stuffed olives here at Granzella’s.”

“But you just ate,” she fired back.

Dave shot her a sharp glare. “And I’m eating again.”

He turned into the parking lot and parked.

“At this rate, we’ll never get to the Lake,” she muttered.

“We’ll get to the Lake in plenty of time. Relax. I told you, stopping at little out-of-the-way diners and stands is part of the vacation for me. I love finding new places to eat.”

“I just want to get there so I can get out of the car.”

“You can get out of the car now and go inside.”

“Okay, fine,” she snapped.

His face went hard. “Tiff. Don’t ruin this. I worked very hard to make this time in my schedule and I need a nice relaxing vacation.”

Whack! His words slapped her across the face. He needed! He needed a vacation! Like she didn’t? So what if she was in between jobs? So what if she had a lot of time on her hands? It wasn’t like she wasn’t doing anything. Like his time was more important than hers! As if! She’d given up two good lunches with girlfriends, a wine-tasting party and her personal trainer’s work-out-a-thon for charity to come on this stupid vacation with him.

“Tiff?”

“What?” she bit out.

“Drop the attitude.”

Her vision shifted, her face burned and her body vibrated with anger. “Don’t tell me what to feel!” she blasted at him.

His head jerked back and his mouth dropped open.

“Fine! You want to stop? We’ll stop! We can stop at every goddamned restaurant and fruit stand and doughnut shop from here to friggin’ Lake Shasta! But I have no idea why we bother actually getting in the car, why don’t we walk? Since we only get about two feet before there’s some stupid thing you want to eat—when that’s all a lie, anyway!”

His jaw went tight and his shoulders squared as he faced her. “Keep your voice down and stop this crap,” he said in a low rasp.

A voice in the back of her head warned her that she was in unknown territory. She didn’t know the man’s limits yet. While Dave had gotten pissy with her once in awhile, they’d been in a honeymoon cocoon since their wedding. She’d never really seen him mad.
She tried to calm herself, but all she could see was Dave staring at that waitress’s chest. “All you want to do is stare at chick’s boobs! This isn’t a vacation! This is a tour of all the chicks you want to fuh—”

He pointed at her. “That’s enough,” he said in a low growl.

She caught a glimpse of his eyes behind his dark sunglasses. Her stomach dropped and a chill went over her. Was that anger? Like actual, real anger? She shut up. She wanted to scream at him, but something told her to stop.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but let me set you straight. I love you. I planned this vacation to spend time with you. I have no idea how you think I could possibly want anyone other than you. And at the rate we make love, how would I have the energy?”

She bit her tongue so she didn’t say I’m sure you’d find a way.

“Are you listening to me?”

“I heard you.”

“Look, I know you had some lapdog boyfriends before me. They played your Please The Princess games. But I don’t play games. I expect you to take me at my word and act like an adult. I expect you to tell me your needs, not make me guess them. What gave you the idea I wanted to sleep with other women?”

“You couldn’t keep your eyes off that waitress.”

His dark brows shot up. “Her breasts were big as watermelons and at eye level. They took up my entire field of vision. You can’t fault me for that. You were staring at her, too.”

“What about that blonde girl at the gas station?”

“What blonde girl at the gas station?”

“Don’t play with me.”

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“This is useless. Let’s go inside. I’m sure the olives are amazing,” she said, dripping with loathing. She considered staying in the car for a good pout, but the Denali was black and the outside temperature somewhere in the high nineties.

“Why are you picking a fight with me?”

“I’m not.”

He held her gaze, his face stony. “Fine. One last warning. Stop the game.”

“Whatever.” She got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Without looking at him, she walked toward the building.

He grabbed her arm above the elbow and pulled her in close to him. Anger exploded inside her and she almost hit him.

In her ear, he hissed, “If you don’t adjust that attitude, I’ll do it for you.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

He shot her a fiery glare. “Push me and find out.”

©2011, Michelle Carlyle