Tie Me Chicago IV

Naked from the waist down, my buttocks glowing and on fire, I dashed up the stairs from the basement in shirt and socks. As I suspected my older sister was obviously in on the conspiracy, concurring in letting her friend Eve have her way with me, vengeance for my annoying comments, questions and suggestions.

Yes, she laughed as I trotted by her, tiny erection no doubt bringing amusement. It seemed like a long journey to my room, there to replace the underwear and pants not to be relinquished by Eve.

Later, when my mother returned home, an afternoon of bridge concluded, I was determined to take action, inform, apprize my mother that an older girl had taken advantage, taken my clothing, spanked me, my penile reaction not to be divulged. I expected not only sympathy and understanding but some form of action... reprisal. The Amazon Eve not to set foot in the house... the events to in turn be related to her parents for punishment.

It was not to be.

‘A spanking! And what prompted Eve to do such a thing Matt? You weren’t needling her were you?’

Of course I was. Matt the brat annoyed many, my mother at times equally exasperated. So there was more empathy for Eve then for the pain and embarrassment endured.

‘You need to be less aggravating , Matthew,’ my mother always using my Baptismal name when being stern with me. ‘You get riled up, exciting yourself in being a pest. There are times when I think a soothing hot bath is needed. Yes, that would calm you.’

I protested, at the age when baths were considered only for toddlers.

‘Yes, the more I think about it, the more a long hot soaking would do you some good when you become pesky. And I know just the person to supervise. So beware...’

I dared not further the discussion, even at that age understanding that when you find yourself in a hole, stop digging. But I knew things did not bode well, particularly when my mother asked my sister for Eve’s phone number.

The hour late, I stow my thoughts, turning off the computer. But not before writing down the address... and phone number... Tie Me Chicago.

What is this attraction?

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Though accounting work is tedious, the week passes quickly. Late Friday I realize I have no weekend diversions in mind. Normally I find something adventurous or a quaint place to visit. I suppose I should find a date, take a young lady to dinner. But after many years of bachelorhood such has become blase. Two years ago I woke on a Sunday morning, a headache from too much wine, my money depleted, my credit card well worn... and little satisfaction. 

I’m not good with women... in a social context... always getting the feeling that I am the entertainment director on a cruise ship... undue pressure to offer constant amusement. I’m more cerebral and introverted for that role.

At 5:00 p.m. I begin packing things up for the week. When I open my brief bag, there lies the notepad... the notation... Tie Me Chicago, a Highland Park address, a phone number.

Images of the regal and commanding Miss Midori Matsumoto unfold... me falling to the stage like a roped cattle. And each time my psyche flashes back in time as well. Why is it thoughts of interaction with the termagant Eve are triggered?  There is not the slightest physical similarity. Eve was large, blonde, muscular in a feminine manner, attractive as stated... but for her daunting strength.

There was an often repeated story of her single handedly tossing the coxswain of the eight man shell into Lake Michigan, a traditional undertaking after a victorious race, but normally performed as a team effort. The distance the slight freshman was thrown grew with each subsequent telling of the story. The boy was quite embarrassed and Eve thereafter was afforded respect... but not the respect desired of a girl yearning for male companionship... perhaps the term fear a better description.

So it was not only brazen of me to taunt but calloused, picking at her emotional wounds. Yes there was no dating for Eve. But there did come interaction with the male... oddly satisfying interaction... with me.         

As I grasp my brief bag to depart, the memories flow...