“Please pass the syrup and tell me, did everyone hear my spanking last night?” I asked the assorted guests at the Bed & Breakfast where D and I spent our weekend. “If not, I’m sure D could give it another go before check out.”
They heard. But you know I didn’t really ask. However, that question hung in the air, thicker than the honey-glazed bacon the innkeeper served for breakfast. I saw the truth there, as they glanced from D and back to me — D looking as proud as a peacock while meeting their eyes, me staring intently at their foreheads.
While charming in its 1896 imperfections, the house was not designed to hide the boisterous affairs of its occupants. And boisterous we were, although much less so due to my pleading, “Not the belt! Everyone will hear!” It was a request spoken in a loud, mirthful whisper, a request I’m positive was overheard as well.
Really they should have thanked us. I am certain, in the afterglow of our tryst, I heard a pair of beds squeaking in the night.