Her hand against the bare flesh of my bum making a loud whiplash noise, I knew I'd done wrong and didn't have any excuse. I'd come upstairs earlier to...play a quick game but one quest had led to another, and then another, and then led to this. Me laying there across Katie's lap, knickers halfway down my legs having my bum smacked, I knew it had gone red I could feel it. The heat that only comes from having your skin repeatedly thrashed. And then she stopped again, grabbing at my hair again with. “I will.”“Seems appropriate,” Paul said as he picked up his banjo.Dara couldn’t help but smile as her father plucked out an off-the-cuff version of Blueberry Hill.As the song ended, Chase drained the last of his wine and let out a sigh. “Well, guess I’ll head back.” He stood up and gave his head a quick shake. “Maybe that last cup was pushing it.”Dara felt a head-rush as she stood as well.“Since you’re up, you can walk him down and give the jug a sink,” her father said, holding out what. He had been there, contemplating, for two hours or, ignoring the chill and watching the day unfold. How he hated this Sunday each year, hated the march of veterans, but was drawn in some morbid fascination annually. Each year, he observed the file of crippled soldiers, long since passed their usefulness to a society, doing it's best to forget for the other three hundred and sixty four days, except in the glorified films of heroic deeds with John Wayne, or another popular actor, leading a squad. But, when we stopped at the nurse's station to inquire about the matter, Melinda and the other nurses adamantly stated this would not be possible. They all seemed to be smirking."But Melinda, why not?" I kept questioning."It seems that your brother has an addiction." An addiction?" Yes, somehow he has become addicted to muffing. And your father, too. I'm afraid it will be a few more days before they can go home. The nurses here haven't had it so good since an entire football team was.
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