Chapter One

 

With wild hair that would reach to her waist when it was calm, now flowing on the breeze, Felicity Moon blew up the apartment stairs. Coming to rest on the top step she was panting, out of breath. About to put her key in the lock, she stopped short hearing the sounds from the other side of the unlocked door. KC. Not KC singing, or KC dancing nymph-like over hardwood floor and landing in a clumsy plop, or KC making love to Jake ... No, this was KC hollering loudly, between the sound of something dreadful smacking against her flesh.

Felicity listened outside the door, opening it just a crack. Distinctive and plaintive wails of woe issued from the poor woman, continuing nonstop as fierce smacks with the palm of a hand were laid on what must have been naked skin. Her delectable ass must be the color of a pink blooming flower, or a summer sunset, or worse yet, the same scarlet hue she blushed on her pale cheeks.

Good lord! Felicity thought to herself, KC was being spanked!

Slowly inching her way inside so the door wouldn't squeak, Felicity hoped she could sneak in without her roommate or the spanker realizing she was there. Giving the door a gentle shove, the dark-haired amber-skinned Felicity peeked beyond the hallway, and saw nothing. Tiptoeing further, she just barely glimpsed Jake, but then moved quickly into the kitchen out of sight. With all the bellowing and slapping that was going on, her movement was likely not detected, but she didn't want to risk discovery. She had to have her portfolio from the study or she'd be dead meat a half hour later when her meeting with Mr. Macho Texas-guy was suppose to start. Negotiating her path to the study was a little tricky, however. It meant slipping into a room highlighted by a wall of windows that looked out on the living room-right where KC was getting her ass blistered.

Peeking out the kitchen door, Felicity breathed a little easier when she spied Jake sitting on a dining room chair with his back to the study windows. And KC-well, she was completely occupied, squirming and kicking like a banshee to get out from under her boyfriend's firm hold.

With the portfolio lying on the top of the desk just a few feet from the kitchen door, snatching the leather satchel should be a piece of cake ... but then there was the scene beyond the windows. At just the right angle Felicity could see KC's bobbing behind getting one smart lick after another. Stopping in her tracks, she paused to watch mesmerized as each stroke of Jake's powerful arm came down on that lusciously red derriere. When he suddenly stopped, she flinched and darted back into the safety of the kitchen. Hearing the commotion stop for a moment, she was stunned to hear it begin again, with the tone even more alarming. Another glance around the corner and she saw Jake with a wooden hairbrush in his hand smacking the round raw cheeks with as fierce a stroke as he used with his hand. The result: a KC in even more distress.

"Stop it, you ass!" the blonde woman wailed when she was conscious enough to speak. When she wasn't, she let out a wild riot of nonsensical cries, sprinkled liberally with four-letter words that KC would never use in normal language. To listen to her ranting, one would think that the man she wrote ten-page, perfume-soaked, red-heart filled, messages of love to daily-even when he was in town-was a "sonafabitch gutless, ball-less m'fucking bastard she'd never lay eyes on ever again".

None of KC's vows did anything to change her darling lover from his task. The hairbrush continued searing those twin globes with a zeal that held Felicity spellbound. She stared at the scene in speechless wonder, her body responding so strongly she was almost tempted to put her hand at her crotch and begin to rub-something that wouldn't have surprised Felicity in the slightest. Spanking was not exactly foreign to her. Every lover she ever had, that would accommodate her desire, spanked her bottom for the sexual thrill of it.

But there was nothing sexual happening here, no matter how Felicity was responding. No, her roommate was being punished. There was little doubt of that. Though she really couldn't see Jake's face, he was obviously pissed. For a seemingly mild-mannered man to become so physical with the woman he showered with poetry and love-songs, there was only one explanation for the moment.

"Oh, gawd!" Felicity shrieked to herself. "He found out about ...."

Looking further than the scene at the dining room chair, she spotted KC's purse on the coffee table, its spilled contents, and yes, that must be the fake ID lying there. Gathering her wits, Felicity knew when it was time to move on. Quickly plucking the portfolio from the desk, she darted from the study, through the kitchen, into the hall. About to exit the apartment, she slipped against the door post and the portfolio turned upside-down spilling its contents on the slick floor.

The spanking stopped abruptly. With a half-dozen papers sliding beyond the hallway into the living room, no retrieval of her necessary notes was possible without the pair in the living room seeing her.

"Felicity!" She heard Jake's sharp voice.

"I'll be out of here in a jif," she called to him. Scurrying past the hallway, she was on the floor scooping up papers, paying no attention to their disarray.

"You're going no where," Jake barked at her. She looked up seeing the man standing over her looking down angrily. How huge he looked from this angle. She only remembered a few times being on her knees before her former boyfriend-when she'd been sucking on his erection. But never had she felt quite so small in his presence. Jake was a rather formidable man at times, at other times a regular pussy-cat. One thing for certain, the best thing that ever happened was when they drifted apart and he set his sights on her pretty roommate. KC was head-over-heels in love so quickly, Felicity was a little annoyed that the pairing happened so fast.

As fierce as Jake could look, however, he was simply not strong enough for a headstrong, self-willed woman like Felicity. Physically, Jake was as dark as she was. They were both from eclectic mixed-parentage. Felicity was told she was half white, obviously her mother's side, and on her father's, Hispanic, Black and Polynesian. Actually, it seemed that every relative she talked to had a different story about her ancestors-she never really knew and she really didn't care. Jake was dark-skinned because he was a man with his roots in African soil as much as in European. Whatever combination of heritages he sprung from however, the result was six-feet tall, dark eyes, a weighty chest and, at the moment, a cleanly shaved head. She met him when he was a bouncer in a local dive-for Jake a part-time job that his appearance made him perfectly suited for. And yet, the other side of the imposing looking Jake Troy was a stunning intellectual and poet, currently an assistant professor of English at the University. Most of the time he was as mellow as a teddy bear, though, at the moment, he was as formidable as a girl's worst nightmare.

"Tell me you didn't arrange that fake ID," Jake said, holding up the forged document for Felicity to see.

She didn't want to incriminate herself, but there wasn't much she was going to do to get out of this blunder. "Fake, huh?"

Jake grabbed for her arm and pulled her swiftly to her feet, leveling a death-gaze which she tried to match with one of her own. Unfortunately, she had no grounds to counter the man since they both knew she was guilty.

"You can't take even a little subterfuge?" she queried him with a sugar-coated tongue and a coy expression in her eyes.

"Using big words now?" he retorted.

"You taught me well, my sweet poet."

"I ain't being sweet now, babe. You're going to get the same treatment on your ass that KC just got on hers."