Answering to Him (Old-Fashioned Husband) Read Online Free PDF Page A

given. And stuffing, and cranberries... as hard as I tried to stay focused, I felt my mind drift. Suddenly, I was stuck back in the dream I’d had last night, feeling Oliver’s firm, punishing hand on my upturned bottom. I recalled it vividly, practically feeling the sting of his hand through my sheer bikini panties, just like I had in my dream. Feeling as though his handprint had just been put on my bottom, I shivered, my cheeks heating up with shame. It certainly hadn’t been an erotic spanking that was for sure! Had he been… punishing me? What kind of sense did that make? I was almost forty, too old for such things, even if Oliver had the inclination, which he didn’t, as far as I could tell. He hadn’t seemed that upset over my scolding, anyway. And why would such a thing send a thrill running through me, anyway?
    It was just a dream, I told myself, turning back to my coffee and trying to distract myself with something— anything —else. I got up and began to wash the breakfast dishes, followed by sweeping and mopping the kitchen. Still, no matter what I did, the images kept flashing in my mind, not allowing me to focus on anything else. I could see it in my mind as though it had really happened: his commanding presence as he scolded me, and the feel of his heavy hand making my rear smart until tears welled up in my eyes.

Chapter 3
    Oliver
     
    By the time I made it home, my mouth watering for one of Alicia’s home cooked meals, it was nearly six-thirty. In the pre-tax season, I could usually get home a little after five, but come October my family knew not to expect me until late. There would be some days in April when I wouldn’t come home at all. Such was the life of a senior tax consultant. I winced as soon as the thought crossed my mind; I didn’t like to think of myself as senior anything .
    As soon as I turned the doorknob and walked into the house, I noticed how quiet it was. My ears perked, listening for the sounds of Alicia vacuuming upstairs, or Jonah playing his music much too loud. Nothing. I set my briefcase down and loosened my tie, walking toward the kitchen. I stopped in my tracks when I saw that the light was off.
    “Alicia!” I called out. “Honey, are you home?”
    I wasn’t surprised when there was no answer. I headed toward the living room and flicked on the switch before going to my plush, brown leather chair and sitting down. I kicked my shoes off and pulled out my Iphone. I had just hit her number and was raising the phone to my ear when the front door opened. I watched Alicia rush in, her arms loaded with grocery bags.
    “Come on, Oliver!” she called over her shoulder, irritation clear in her voice. I watched as she flicked on the kitchen light, dumping the contents of her bags onto the counter. “I forgot pasta sauce!” she moaned, slamming her hand down on the counter. “Dammit!”
    I arched an eyebrow. It wasn’t like my normally sweet-tempered wife to curse. I stood up and walked toward the kitchen, wanting to see if there was anything I could do to help. At that moment, Jonah came ambling through the door, eyeing me with indifference.
    “Oh, hi, Dad.”
    Before I could respond, I heard Alicia call from the kitchen, sounding more frantic than ever. “Oliver? Is that you?”
    Jonah rolled his eyes, and I bit back a smile. “Unless there is another man my son calls ‘dad’,” I replied.
    “Oh, really,” she sighed, clearly not amused. “Of course not, Oliver.”
    I nodded at my son, who promptly turned aro und and shot up the stairs. After he made his exit, I turned my attention to my wife and walked into the kitchen. I took a seat and watched her rifle through the fridge, occasionally pulling out items that she lined up on the counter. “Everything OK?”
    “Fine,” she replied, in a voice that told me she was lying. “I just…where did I put the Parmesan? Have you seen it?”
    I shook my head, mystified by the intensity in her voice. “No.