LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

Chapter One - New Beginnings and Meeting a Goddess
I met Marie in 1995.

Bill Clinton was in the White House and a computer animated film called Toy Story was ruling at the box office. That was the year that O.J. got away with murder and a couple of assholes blew up a federal building in Oklahoma City and bruised America's heart.

In May of that year I was a fresh college dropout, living in upstate Pennsylvania in a basement apartment that wasn't a whole lot more than a refrigerator, a single bed and a shower stall. Six months short of a degree in Architecture and having decided that higher education was not the right road for my life at the time, I had somehow managed to land a job that was at least somewhat related to my field of choice.

Five days a week, sometimes six if the job merited it, I worked as a grunt with a construction company installing drywall throughout the state. The work was hard enough, but the pay was also decent. Having landed a number of contracts with major real estate developers in the region, our crew was dedicated almost exclusively to projects that were new condo and apartment house constructions. Overtime was plentiful for the guys that wanted it, and for a kid with minimal expenses and not accustomed to having an abundance of spending money, life in the mid-nineties was a good deal.

Coming from a conservative rural Virginia upbringing where both my parents had married just after high school and raised seven kids on two minimum wage jobs, owning a partial college education and a job that allowed me to live the good life, was nearing a dream come true. Of course life is never perfect. There were student loans that needed to be paid. My apartment was part of an initiative designed to aid kids living away from home. I was OK for the time being, but once fall rolled around and they discovered my college career had come to an end, I would politely be asked to vacate the space. And then there was the fact that I had yet to inform my mom and dad that I had no intention of finishing my studies. That was the big one. That one was going to need to be addressed before September rolled around. But Labor Day was still three months away. For now, life was good.

We worked hard and we played just as hard. Construction workers, like a lot of guys in the trades industry, are no stranger to having a good time. A few beers or a pint of rye after work was an accepted part of the culture. As long as you punched in on time the next morning and carried your fair share of the workload, your fellow workers and your supervisors had no qualms with a man's drinking habits. In my case, my foreman was most often the guy buying the first round.