Fast Ticket To A Spanking, Part One

Hey Spankos!!!

Michelle is…oh, hell, I’m always tired. But I’m REALLY tired now. Put all the finishing touches on my latest vanilla novel and it should be available for sale tomorrow. Although, everything takes longer than it’s supposed to. And I’m bloody tired. I had to go through a 500 page document…how many freakin’ times? My eyes are crossed. And I need sex. Hubby has been sick and we’ve both been working on this giant document/book of mine. Instead of fucking. HUGE oversight.

I thought about doing some cross-marketing and posting the title and cover of my vanilla novel here, but I’m still hinky about outing myself. As we all know, many people outside the spanking community don’t really look too fondly on us spankos. Thankfully, my romance writer friends don’t care, most of them write stuff that would make your hair stand on end. Spanking is almost vanilla to those people. But I’m still too chicken. Maybe later. Because I think you’d like my new book. Well, maybe. No spanking in it, some sex. But my normal crazy sense of humor and penchant for action are definitely in the book. Plus there are characters in my novel you have seen before if you subscribe to Discipline and Desire. And you will see here shortly. Because many of my stories come from my vanilla work. I create an alternate universe and explore the characters in new and different spanky ways. Although, the names have been changed in the spanking fiction to protect the guilty. Anyhoo, hopefully later, I’ll be more brave. But not now.

So, spanky friends, I have a new story for you. A Discipline and Desire fan favorite. Got lots of fan letters about this one. So here you are, A Fast Ticket To A Spanking, soon to be found in my upcoming release, Dangerous Behavior.

Hugs and love to you all!

Michelle


Teresa walked out from her office building and up to her car parked directly out front. It really paid to come early to work. She found if she arrived before seven in the morning, she always got a good spot. Arriving early also meant she could leave early. She was the first one in the office and the first to leave and she never had to deal with the traffic. She loved flex-time!

She went to open her door when she noticed a piece of paper underneath her windshield wiper. Not another ticket! That was the only problem with parking out front, she nearly always forgot to feed the meter properly. She could park for free in the parking garage, but it was too far to walk considering her footwear of choice: anything cute with five-inch heels. They made her legs look great, but walking long distances was no fun. So she parked as closely as she could to her office, which was the street in front of the building.

But darn it, this was her fifth ticket this month. And it was only the tenth of the month. Normally, she tossed them in the garbage, but recently a friend of hers had suggested a different route. Just put the ticket on someone else’s windshield. That way you had the chance that the owner of the other car would pay it without really examining it closely. Heh-heh-heh.

With an evil grin on her face, Teresa removed the ticket, walked to the car behind her and slipped it underneath the windshield wiper. She tried to look purposeful so no one would notice. The car was an expensive car, she figured the owner could afford it.

She moved away from the car quickly and got into her own. Feeling very smug, she drove away and headed home.

Everyday that week, Teresa somehow forgot to put enough change in the meter, and everyday she came out to her car to find a ticket on the windshield. And everyday she withdrew the ticket and put it on the car behind her. On Friday, she finally noticed that she was putting the ticket on the same car. A late model black Porsche. Once she made the discovery, she couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Normally, she was a pretty moral person, but somehow the situation struck her funny. Some rich person certainly was having a string of bad luck.

As Teresa drove away, she thought about this rich person with the Porsche she had inadvertently targeted. It was obviously some corporate executive with a huge expense account and money to burn. Must be nice. Teresa barely made enough money to keep herself in nice shoes. She had a teeny apartment, a ten-year-old Toyota and hardly any savings. She liked her job at the venture capital business, but she hated working for rich people. She saw the payroll once when she’d delivered some papers to the accounting department and was chagrined to find out her bosses made thirty times more than she did. Thirty times! When she barely made more than the interns. She had a BA degree, but it was in sociology, and hadn’t really helped with her salary. She did client profiles and research. One of the more lowly jobs of the office. After she’d seen those spreadsheets, she almost quit, but Fillmore and paid more than the university job she’d had before.

She had loved her job at the university. Adored the people she worked with, loved being on campus around so many brilliant minds. Problem was, it was super expensive living in San Francisco. After her divorce, she found she wasn’t making ends meet and finally had to quit and find a higher paying job. She’d found her current position in the Financial District. It paid half again as much as she made at San Francisco State. But even with her pay raise, she was barely making it. Until she could figure out something else, she was stuck.

Which was why she didn’t feel bad about the parking ticket thing. That Porsche owner could afford those dumb tickets, but she sure as hell couldn’t. Serves the jerk right for making so much. Some fancy guy working in a fancy office making millions while she struggled to pay her rent. Life was not fair.

And she had to admit, it was fun getting away with something like that. Especially considering she was bothering some rich idiot. Too funny!


Chas Wilson couldn’t believe it. Another parking ticket! He was late as usual, so he grabbed the thing off his windshield and threw it into his briefcase. This was ridiculous, he was sure he’d put enough money in the meter. But he had no time to worry about it, he had a tennis date and couldn’t be late or he and his partner would lose their court time. He’d already been late the last time due to a client who would not shut up, this time he’d been on the phone with a banking officer trying to straighten out a financing snafu, upon which rode a huge, billion dollar deal. He glanced at his watch, he might just make it.

He drove as fast as he could, came around a corner and everything stopped. It was a traffic accident. He tried to back up, but it was too late, he was stuck. Damn it! After ten minutes of not moving, he finally had to give up. He called Harold and told him the bad news. Harold harangued him in a good-natured way and then told him he was lucky, another guy was looking for a quick game, so at least Harold would be able to play.

Chas hung up and swore to himself and punched the steering wheel. He’d really needed that game. This week had been so hectic, so many deals were teetering on the edge, he’d barely slept. He was so pent, so tired and feeling so crazy, only a good work out would settle him. He decided after he got out of traffic, he’d go to the club and work out in the weight room and hope there was an opening on the court. Tennis was the main way he blew off steam. Well, that and sex, but since Belinda left him six months before, he hadn’t been able to connect with anyone interesting. Certainly word had got out and he was being pursued actively by a hoard of single females on his floor, but he didn’t want any of them. While horny, he’d rather be alone than with someone he didn’t care for. And none of the women in his office or on the floor interested him. They were either too needy, too over-dressed, too self-centered or not fashionable enough.

He had to admit it, he liked a woman who dressed well. But one who didn’t need to call an inordinate attention to herself.

He’d loved Belinda. He’d even asked her to marry him. But she’d been far more interested in making money than making him happy. After he’d proposed, she told him that there was no way she’d ever live with him or cook for him or do anything for him. If he agreed to live in adjoining apartments, she’d consider his proposal. Well, that ended that. He’d been so disappointed. Perhaps that’s why he hadn’t dated since.

Chas looked around the intersection at all the stuck people who’d gotten out of their cars. Most were furious, some were resigned, many were curious about why they were stuck. But it didn’t look like any of them were going home anytime soon.

Sighing, Chas opened his briefcase and took out the ticket. Damn this. He’d paid the other four this week, he might as well make out a check while he was sitting there. He wrote out the amount and addressed the check to the proper city bureau. He was tearing the receipt from the ticket to put into the envelope when a number on the ticket caught his attention. It was where his license plate number was supposed to be written. But it wasn’t his license number. It was someone else’s.

No. He couldn’t have been so stupid as to pay someone else’s parking ticket. He couldn’t have. He reread the ticket. He couldn’t believe it. The ticket WAS someone else’s. It was for a ten-year-old Toyota with vanity plates that read “IM TRBLE”. Trouble indeed, this person was a total jerk. Oh, if he got his hands on the person. Damn it! All those tickets! He’d been so distracted, he hadn’t even checked the meter! It was probably still green and he hadn’t noticed. Nor had he read the ticket, he’d just paid it! What an idiot! Damn this!

©2011, Michelle Carlyle