Dinah MCLeod share’s a hot excerpt from her new book, HOW I SPANK MY WIFE.
My husband Jim and I are avid fans of the hit show “How I Met Your Mother” (though not a fan of the series finale; no, not fans of that) and one day while watching my husband said, “They should make a show about us. They could call it ‘How I Spank My Wife’.” I gave him the obligatory laugh and quipped, “There’d be a lot of people tuning in for that series premiere!” But as we went back to watching the show, my mind was already in motion, thinking and plotting. And so Callie was born, a girl from a small town with big hopes of stardom. Something lurks deeper beneath the surface, though—a scared little girl on the run who needs to guarantee she’ll never go back home again.
Mr. Condescending—who I learned from listening to the casting directors was really named Kurt—stopped immediately and helped me off his lap.
“Good work,” he said, and I flushed from embarrassment, averting my eyes. I listened to the standard preamble of the directors. Someone would be in touch, they would let me know, great job, thanks for coming in, yadda, yadda.
“Can I walk you out?” Kurt asked. “Um, you don’t—that’s not really…you know, I know where I parked and everything.” My stammering made me blush hotter. I couldn’t seem to get out a complete sentence around this guy, though regrettably I hadn’t had that problem last night. “I thought as much.
“But I didn’t offer to help you find your car, I offered to take you to it.” I nodded, still avoiding eye contact.
“OK. Yeah, sure.”
“I meant what I said. You did a good job today,” Kurt said as I led the way. “Oh, uh, thank you. You…you’re an actor?” He chuckled and I could have died on the spot. When had I become a babbling idiot?
“Something like that. And you, I take it, are an actress. When you’re not waiting tables.” We’d come to the parking lot, and I turned to face him.
“Listen, I really, really am sorry about that. I had no business…” I trailed off with a shrug. “You didn’t,” he affirmed. “Which is why I am giving you the bill for my suit.” I blinked at him, wondering if I’d misheard.
“I’m sorry, what?” “My suit. The one you ruined? It cost three hundred dollars.” He said it casually, but hearing the sum knocked the breath out of me. “How ruined?” I asked helplessly.
“Ruined,” he confirmed. “As it turns out, Egyptian silk doesn’t do well with Vodka. And the shirt…”
I nodded. I remembered what I’d done to his shirt. “I, um, I guess I can pick up some extra shifts and…” I was reeling. I had no idea how I was going to come up with that extra money. I started walking again and didn’t stop until I reached my car. It seemed like a sanctuary from the madness, and I leaned against it as though it was all that was keeping me on my feet. “I realize that you don’t have that kind of money,” Kurt was saying. I hadn’t even realized he’d stayed behind me. “But I shouldn’t have to replace it. And since the attack was so unwarranted I feel that it’s fair.”
I winced at the word “attack” but I didn’t protest. He was right—what I had done was uncalled for and now I would be suffering the consequences.
“I’ll get you the money.” He smiled warmly and it completely transformed his face. He had a tan complexion, one that, unlike mine, looked natural. His green eyes crinkled when he smiled, and there looked to be bits of gold in his irises. As I appraised him, it occurred to me that his body was made for spanking women. He had the broad shoulders, the long arms, the large hands. I could vouch from experience the pain they could inflict on a tender bottom.
“There might be another way,”he was saying and I raised my eyes back to his face. He really was handsome, in a rich, well cared for way. His jaw was strong, and he had a perfectly sculpted face. By definition, he was a pretty boy and it was easy to remember why I’d seemed to instantly dislike him so much. I’d never had much use for pretty boys, and I had no patience for them. Add to that the fact that he had pretty much been a jerk…
“What is that?” I asked. “I could spank you.” He sounded so serious, but I couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled to my throat.
“I’m sorry?” I asked, trying to wipe the smile off my face. “You could what me?”
“Spank you,” he repeated, his face devoid of even a trace of a smile