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The Matinee

(Note: This is a fictionalized account of a movie that doesn’t, so don’t bother Googling it.)

I noticed her, at least the possibility of her, the first time I saw that art house film “the Westchesters”. I was on Christmas break from work for a couple of weeks and visiting my home town and staying with my family. While there, the subject of my recent divorce kept coming up somehow and I kept getting tons of helpful advice, which although self-evident, cliche and imprudent, was not entertaining enough to keep me around all day.

So I thought I’d use the afternoon to step out of this crucible of dysfunction and go take in a matinee at the local cinema.  Through an Internet search I found a local theater showing this film I had read a review of which mentioned it portraying its corporal punishment scenes realistically. The plot was about a family, the Westchesters, who were a wealthy family steeped in a tradition that included a strict, non-rod-sparing discipline philosophy. The twist was that the corporal punishment continued, at the insistence of both parents, into their kids’ adulthood – a brother and sister. They could avoid living under the strict, old-fashioned rules and punishments but it would have meant being sent away from the family estate with a paltry one million dollars each and they would have had to make it on their own out there in the cold, cold world. So as long as they choose to live on the family estate and take advantage of their parents fortunes, they were subject to corporal consequences on a regular basis.

Of course the kids had chosen to stay at the estate out of sheer laziness, dependency,  and greed. This situation forced them into a permanent state of teenager-hood, constantly trying to get away with things that the ‘rents wouldn’t approve of and that would result in severe spankings.

The film, from its description, sounded like it would be a bit creepy, darkly humorous, and contain realistic corporal punishment scenes. In other words, it was right up my ally in terms of tastes, so I decided to go.

There were perhaps six or seven of us at that matinee – me, a woman two rows in front of my row and a few seats over, a gay couple, and a few college students in other scattered seats.

The first spanking scene was of the brother, Chaz – a twenty-something womanizer with a constant, annoying twinkle in his eyes that seemed to indicate that he thought of himself as god’s gift to women. He’d been caught with illegal drugs by the estate’s private security group. They brought the matter and him to the attention of his father, the patriarch, who subsequently ordered his son spanked with a strap for half an hour.

He’d said, “Take him down to the punishment room and give him a strapping.”

One of the officer who’d made the in-house arrest asked, “How many, sir?”

The father said, “Thirty.”

“Thirty strokes, sir?”

“Thirty minutes.”

The next scene showed Chaz tied down, bending over a big office desk.  His pants were down and an officer was standing to his rear and off to the side, swinging a heavy strap against Chaz’ butt. The strokes were solid and made a realistic whack on impact, but the sound wasn’t overly dramatic. It looked as painful as it should be; no more, no less.

The strokes were regular in tempo and it was a mostly facing view. Tears were flowing and he was gritting his teeth, and each time the strap landed, he grunted  in almost growling way.  The scene was considerably longer than scenes like this typically are. I counted over thirty strokes landing. If this had been a woman, I would have been in my own version of spanko heaven.

As is my habit from when I’ve watched spanking scenes with family or other vanillas, I immediately began to glance around the theater and look surreptitiously for reactions that might be familiar (or emotionally hostile to spankos).  I noticed the woman who was a couple of rows forward had what appeared to me in the low light a flushed face. She had a slight smile on her face and she seemed to me to be somewhat aroused.  Of course I found this to be rather intriguing and immediately began to think of whether and how I might approach her for conversation. There were so many factors to consider in such a calculation, though, so I let myself get re-absorbed into the plot of the movie and its interesting twists and turns and let thoughts of the talking to the woman go out of my mind.

So several scenes later when I witnessed the spanking scene with the sister, I hadn’t noticed that the woman had gone out to the concession area. I got re-absorbed into that surprised-at-seeing-spanking space and as I watched in wrapped attention I felt eyes on me. Unconsciously, I glanced in the direction of the gaze and saw her coming back up the aisle and having paused to look directly at me. She had a look of fascination and recognition on her face similar to the one I’m sure I had when I saw her reaction to the male spanking scene. Clearly this was a case of spanking Top recognizing spanking Top.

Now we both had the same social logic problem – how to connect without it being completely weird and both of us regretting it. By the end of the movie as the credits scrolled, I wondered if we were both playing the credit-watching game in which the goal is to watch enough of the credits for it to seem natural to casually get up and walk towards the exit at the same time as someone else you don’t know but are interested in talking to. I watched her picking up her bag and her empty popcorn and drink and head towards the door. So I began to rise in order to, by coincidence, end up beside her on the way out. Just as I was about to approach her position her phone must have vibrated because she pulled it out of her bag and answered it. I was forced to continue on past her, not wishing to do the creepy thing and hang back until she was off the phone.

As I walked by her I glanced at her face and saw her briefly role her eyes to the sky as if she were thinking the call was terrible timing. Of course I couldn’t assume that talking to me was a part of her interrupted plan, but I resigned myself to thinking it was just a missed opportunity. I went about the rest of my day amusing myself in whatever ways I could find and decided to forget about it. But of course, I couldn’t forget about the historic scenes in the movie and I realized I that I hadn’t fully appreciated the story of the film because of thinking about the potential encounter and the rare spanking scenes.

So I decided to go back the next day and see it again. After all it was a vacation and why not spend it in ways I preferred. I went back to the theater at the same time as the day before and while standing in line to buy a ticket, she walked up and stood in line behind me and said, “Didn’t I see you here yesterday?”

I turned to look behind me, smiled and said, “Yes indeed. I recall seeing you. Great film, huh?”

She said, “Well I surely though so. I’m Sandra.” She extended her hand.

I shook her hand and said, “I’m Gary.”

“Are you here alone? Shall we sit together?” she asked.

“Yes and yes,” I said.

About Quai Franklin

Singer/songwriter, spanko/kinkster, fiction writer, philosopher, and discussion provocateur. I publish and broadcast independent voices you want to hear.

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This entry was posted on 2012/12/30 by in corporal punishment, erotica, short_story, spanking.

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