Cheeky Meets Her Match (A More Perfect Union 2)

Bay House One

Bay House One

Ebony was pissed. From her towering role ascounty judge, she sent the first bad boys to Center for meaningfulcorrection. With Dr. Dan Roth, she founded Belts not Bars as amovement to bring effective discipline to the cities, where itcould do the most good.

So how could they appoint a director to theBay House without even consulting her?

It was situated all wrong too! She took amoment to admire the one hundred year old mansion set in the hillsof Rockridge. It was Oakland, yes, but not her Oakland. Rockridgewas part of the now majority of Oakland that was successful, whiteand Asian primarily, joined by accomplished people from around theworld. They were tech boomers and gentrifiers. Exactly what Ebony’spolitical base fought so hard against.

Okay, at a level she could understand. Thejudicial board had given notice that her activities at Center andBelts not Bars were “of concern” and she should refrain from takingany title while she served as an officer of the court. Ebony had nointention of stepping down.

How did Center come up with the funds to buythis house? It was a broke nonprofit attached to a startup, almostshut down by the bank months ago! A house just off InternationalBlvd, where the real people lived, could have been had for a fifththe cost.

She rang the bell. A tall black youth openedthe door. They stared wide-eyed at each other. It was Thud, one ofthe gang kids Ebony had sent to Center.

Without pause, the young man gave Ebony ahug.

“You saved me, Your Honor,me and my homeboys.”

She accepted his gracious greetings. “I’mhoping many others will have benefit of the cure. Is the directorin? I need to see him.”

Thud, who now went by the name Theodore, ledher through the grand historic living room to the study. He pausedto caution Ebony, “Watch your manners.” He knocked once andwaited.

“Please enter,” a deepvoice said, slight eastern European accent.

Ebony did so, and noticed the door politelyclosed behind her. She faced the object of her wrath.

Tall, impeccably dressed in a dark greenwool suit, silver hair. He rose to greet her with courtlymanners.

“I have some words foryou,” Ebony said, brushing away formality.

“Indeed, I live for words,”he replied.

“Building Center here isjust plain racist. Center is supposed to benefit the people.Instead, up here it benefits whites.” She glared at him, knowingliberals always melted at any mention of the ‘r’ word. Worked everytime. God bless liberals.

Except this time. He fixed eyes on her, andEbony suddenly felt naked.

“Words have consequences,dear lady, don’t you agree?”

Ebony, living her whole life in the uber PCEast Bay, was so baffled by a white person who did not wither withthe ‘r’ word that she found herself stunned.

“We will play a game,befitting our common interest in this institution. I will ask youquestions, you will respond and ask me questions, back and forth,until one of us admits she is the racist, and gets what is soclearly needed. We begin.”

Ebony couldn’t believe this, by all therules she should have the advantage, she was black and female and apublic official backed by the black establishment, where was allher rank? Doesn’t he know he’s in Oakland?

“So, first question. I amVictor Zelinsky. What do you know of me?”

Ebony starred. The name did mean something.What? Had she read something in the Chronicle? Problem isshe didn’t really read it. Though the region's most importantpublication, she felt they were a part of the problem; all thatfocus on high-end life. Pure white. Not her tribe.

“Time is up for the firstquestion. You are a public official yet do not know me, though Ihave been granted many awards and much public attention. We willreturn to this fault, in fact we will keep returning to everything.You did not answer, so I continue. Your major was in SocialJustice. What is Justice?”

Ebony blinked. This was not the conversationshe came to have. Yes, that was her major, and he knew it. Shespoke a lot about justice. What was her point? “Compensation to theoppressed,” she said, game on. The Reparations card always worked.White people who never owned slaves just owed black people whonever were slaves. Everyone knew that.

“Fine,” he replied. “That is a dutiful assessment of what they teach you. Whythen do you not compensate victims of crime, surely they areoppressed.”

Ebony knew that the system didn’t do muchfor victims. It wasn’t her fault. Besides, it was her turn. “Whydid the Center appoint you to run Oakland’s outpost? You’re a whiteman. East Bay values diversity above anything!”

“Ah, a question: thebeginning of all wisdom. I will answer, but do note that all ofyour statements so far revolve around race. Clearly someone is veryracial, a semantic from racist. The answer is that I have conversedfor many years with both Dr. Nick and Dr. Dan Ross. I haveencouraged both to consider ideas in line with your movement. I amin fact the Professor who was tried for lack of PC ideology, andwas handed a chaired position, gift of the Judgement Society. Youshould have known that, as you must be aware that your ignorancewas essentially due to racist reasons. Please keepscore.”

Yes, she had heard of him. Actually,it was quite a big deal. A student leader of his philosophy classtaped him. Everything he said was the truth, but the studentcomplained and administration was caving on protecting him from thecharge of “confusing their ideological development.” Some richgroup intervened and created a distinguished chair for him. Ebonydidn’t know his name because she didn’t want to know anything abouthis ideas.

“So I ask you a relatedquestion, why are you a judge?”

Ebony knew it was half because she was blackand supported by the Black Power structure, some because she wasfemale, and the rest because she had a law degree. She had provenherself reliable when ‘protected’ brothers and sisters ranafoul of the law. There was always a procedural ground to make acase disappear. The lawyers were always connected, too, in Oaktown,so everyone played along. It didn’t bother her. Price of race basedmachine politics. She didn’t answer.

“Are you happy? What willit take to make you happy?”

Ebony was stunned again. She never letherself ask that. She was so caught up in a racist way of thought;she had lost sight of herself. She had suppressed being a person ofher own. Everything was about race. Truth broke upon her. “I’m theracist,” she admitted.

“Wisest thing you have saidtoday,” Victor complimented.

Why should I let you spank me? Shereally was asking.

“I know what you arethinking, and I will answer. Because nothing else will turn you tothe path of happiness.”

Ebony stood still, thinking. Rachael washappiest after meeting Nick. Everyone at Center is happier than me.Victor would not have been selected if he were not somethingspecial. God he’s hot. God I’m getting hot. That moment shedecided, as she began to remove her jacket.

He stopped her. “You will need to ask me forthe privilege.”

Wow, first guy she ever wanted to try thiswith, and she has to ask? Yet the word “please,” came right out ofher mouth. She knew in her mid-forties, she was still agood-looking woman, with a fine round ass. Why shouldn’t she havepleasure and passion? Why shouldn’t she be worthy of deep love?

Victor rose and embraced her. He kissed andheld her as a man does a cherished woman. She began to cry lightly,never having known the love of a worthy man. He slowly andexactingly undressed her, taking time to admire her and show it. Hetook a cushion from the sofa and placed it on the wooden desk. Shebent across, showing her ass to present as a target.

He placed a hand to her bottom, “It is verysimple, isn’t it. Choose to live life by the rules you have known,and go through all of life without having lived.”

“That sounds terrible,” sheagreed.

“Or live, knowing the funand passion of fully being a woman.”

“”I’ll take what’s behinddoor B,” she said with a wiggle to her bottom.

He spanked her in a long loving set, cheekto cheek; nothing to prove except man taking woman. “By asking foryour spanking you are opening your heart, so it will do you themost good.”

He spanked knowingly and compassionately.Slowly her brain played back the hurt of her life, now beingcleansed with spanking magic.

She saw the folly of the racism she longpracticed. She was not black, not a part of a revolution, she didnot need anger to sustain her. She was a person being reborn. Yes,her ancestors were stolen in slavery, but she was the beneficiaryof that, living in America with a life of potential wonder. Sheneeded him to spank out her ache. Victor was doing a consummate jobof that. She wailed her lament, but it was a healing sob. Thespanking was giving her rebirth.

The miraculous light came upon them. Ebonywas amazed at the healing goodness of it. Victor shared the wonder,but not the surprise.

They consummated their pleasure on the thicksoft carpet, s*x in middle age with all the joy of slow passion.Victor proved a consummate lover.

He pulled a blanket over their naked bodiesas they rested.

“So, what’s nextVictor?”

“Next, my dear, why westart a real revolution, of course.”

She cuddled in close, “Been there, you know,didn’t work out great.”

“Yes, but this time wespank top and bottom, actions have consequences, virtue is foreveryone.”

“Why here?” sheasked.

“Not particularly to spankyour bad boys, though we will do some of that. They are pettythugs, we go after the real thing: professors who preach PC insteadof thought and tech wizards who create platforms that lead usfurther from truth the more we listen and watch. We spank theactual troublemakers. Trolls deserve to be paddled. We turncyberspace into the greatest civil conversation the world has everknown.”

She reflected, “It would take amiracle.”

“I am miraculous,” Cheekyadded.

Victor and Ebony accepted that as true.Cheeky, creation of Rachael and Center, was indeed miraculous. Theysqueezed each other knowingly, for there were other miracles atplay. This revolution had multiple assets; though none greater thanspankings and the applied potential for human growth.