LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

Michael and Polly
Andrea Mahony pushed her shopping trolley down the aisles, and browsed the items for sale, before placing them in the trolley. Clarkstown was not a big place, although it did have at least three supermarkets. The one Andrea was in was not the biggest, but it was her preferred place to shop. Working during the week and wanting her Saturday mornings free for tennis meant that the tall, willowy woman with the lustrous mane of chestnut hair did her grocery shopping on Friday evening, so she was appreciative for the extended trading hours on that night. Although the supermarket's owner, Mr Simms, could be a little abrupt, Andrea got on well enough with the man, and as he was one of her clients she found shopping at his establishment a rather pleasant experience.

Andrea owned and ran the town's most unique business, The Spank Shop, and Simms regularly sent his children to her for discipline, and some of his junior staff made the occasional journey to have their bottoms reddened over Andrea's lap for various infringements. This ensured that they were always polite to her, and sometimes she was even given discounts on purchases.

Andrea was trying to decide which brand of biscuits to choose when she became uncomfortably aware that someone was watching her. There was a man to her left, staring at her. It was a rather disconcerting feeling, and she started to wonder if she had a smudge of dirt on her face or something. Out of the corner of her eye she tried to get a good look at her observer without being obvious about it. He was dressed in a business suit and tie, his hair was short and neat, average height and build, he also had a shopping trolley.

Andrea was about to turn and confront him when he spoke. "Andrea? It is Andrea, isn't it?"

Her emerald eyes flashing, Andrea answered coldly, "Yes, it is. Who am I speaking to?"

The man looked a little surprised, and now that Andrea could look at him properly there was something familiar about his face.

"It's Michael," he said softly, his face colouring in embarrassment. "Michael Wilson."

Andrea's eyes went wide, and now it was her turn to blush. "Mickey Wilson! Oh my goodness, sweetheart, you're all grown up. You must have been about fourteen the last time I saw you."

"Fifteen," the business suited man corrected her.

"What are you doing here in Clarkstown?"

"We just moved here."

"We?"

"My wife and I. Polly."

"Polly Thatcher? You married Polly Thatcher?"

Michael nodded happily.

"I should have known! The two of you were thick as thieves. Michael, I would love to stop and chat," Andrea said, indicating her partially full trolley, "but I've got to get my shopping finished. Would you like to meet in the coffee shop nearby in about half and hour?"