The first time he spanked me, I thought he was a pervert. The second time he did it, I wondered if I was. By the third time, I was certain that both were true.
We met at a concert.
He was with his friends in the row behind Tricia and me. They were acting completely juvenile—using little laser pointers to draw ridiculous spastic spirals on the backs of people standing further down in the theater.
It was a loud rock concert, one of my favorite bands, and while everyone there was yelling and whistling and clapping, I found the antics behind us so annoying.
I turned to face the group of four men and yelled, “Dudes, cut that out, it’s really distracting.” I’d caught the tall one with his laser held in front of his body. I looked down and saw a tiny red dot on my jeans.
While I’d been tu
