Baby Girl

The front bell rang in the air conditioned lobby of Hartfield's Jewelers. Camille stopped doodling on her notepad and peered over her glasses. A somewhat fuzzy woman stomped her way. She slammed what looked like an engagement ring on the glass counter and huffed, "I want a refund."

Camille closed her notepad and folded her hands, "Do you have a receipt ma'am?"

"No I do not, but my no good cheatin' sonofabitch ex-fiance already packed up and left." The lady pursed her lips and forced a hand on her hip.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry but unless you have proof of purchase we can't accept this ring."

She leaned in. "Look little girl, I didn't come all this way down here to leave empty handed." She shifted her weight and pushed the ring further across the counter.

"I'm sorry but-"

"Where's your manager! I wanna speak to somebody who knows what they're doing!"

Camille politely smiled and hurried to the back. Her manager, Earl, sprang into action to placate the irate customer. Camille sighed with relief and returned to her cartoon kitty with the big ears and fluffy tail. She added a few whiskers and a collar with a jingly bell. After a few minutes of Earl repeating what Camille already told the lady, he re-entered the back and snatched his can of Copenhagen from his desk.

"Good god!" He threw a big pinch of dip in, enough to cover his lower lip. "I swear," he spat into his half-filled water bottle. "Some people just can't follow directions worth a damn." Camille giggled and returned to her doodles. The front bell rang again.

"Earl?" a male voice called out.

Earl put his bottle down and checked out front. "Sam!" Camille heard from the back. Curious, she crept to the door frame and leaned out to see who was out front. Her eyes fell on a man wearing a heavy leather jacket and blue jeans. She stared at his grey stubble and imagined what it felt like against her cheek. His hair, though black and white, was slicked back in a tasteful high and tight cut. He smiled, laughed with Earl, then locked eyes with her.

Camille jerked back behind the wall but could already hear Earl calling, "C'mon now, don't be shy." She shuffled forward into the doorway and approached the stranger. He towered over her petite frame and seemed to fill up her entire view. Sunglasses hung from his front pocket, and she noticed the bottoms of his pants were coated in dirt.

He smiled and put a hand out. "Hey there," he said. "Name's Sam."

She delicately shook his hand and felt the rough edges from years of hard work. "Hi," she squeaked. "I'm Camille."

"Nice to meet you Camille." He tipped his head.

She giggled a little and immediately covered her mouth.

Earl rolled his eyes, but he still smiled. "Sam here's from outta town. We're gonna go drown our sorrows over at Tramps later tonight. You're welcome to come join us, but lemme guess... 'no thank you Earl.'"

"Come on Earl," Camille sighed. "You know I don't drink."

Sam chimed in, "There's plenty more to do than drink. Tonight's pool and poker. Lotta fierce competition among the drunks."

Camille giggled again, "Well, okay, if you insist."

"I do," Sam winked and curled his lip. Camille felt her cheeks glow rosy and warm.

"Alrighty then!" Earl said.

Another customer rang through the door. Camille attended to them while Earl and Sam caught up. Every so often her gaze trailed off toward Sam's jawline. Every time he smiled his neck bulged a bit. Concentrating proved difficult as her mind ran away with thoughts of him shedding his jacket. Twice the customer asked if she was paying attention. Earl and Sam headed to the back as Camille continued to cover the front counter. After the customer left, she flipped to a new page in her notepad and started a new doodle. It began with what was supposed to be a puppy, but it soon evolved into a naked male torso. Her pencil contoured a chiseled physique with subtle abs and formidable biceps. She traced her finger along the left pectoral and gently bit her lower lip.

"Hey Camille," Earl said from behind.

She slammed her notepad closed and whipped around. "Yeah?" she said.

"I'mma head out and pick up my kids from school. You okay to close up shop?" He added a thumbs up.

"Of course Mr. Hartfield." She adjusted her glasses and smiled.

Earl tossed his keys in the air. "See you two at Tramps," he said.

Sam walked around to the front and leaned over the glass. He rapt his fingers against the surface and tapped the tip of his work boot against the hardwood floor. Camille smiled nervously. She stuffed her notepad in a corner behind a necklace display. Sam rubbed his nose as he sniffed the air. His eyes scanned the different rings, watches, wristbands, and eventually made their way up to hers. She looked down and pretended not to notice him eyeing her up and down.

"So where you from?" she inquired.

"I come up from Montgomery, not too far. And you?" He straightened up.

"Oh I was born and raised her in Calera. Not too much goes on."

He nodded, smiled, but didn't say anything.

"So how do you know Earl?"

"Oh he and I went to MMI back in '89. We both did Army ROTC then got shipped off to the Gulf War. Kept in touch over the years. I came back, worked in Montgomery at the Montgomery Police Academy. Earl mentioned he'd opened a jewelry store. Couldn't hardly believe it."

"Why's that?"

"Earl was always tryna be Mr. Macho at basic. Think it had something to do with him bein' real skinny. Course, I guess people change." He pulled out a can of Copenhagen from his back pocket, except this one was green, not blue like Earls. "Mind if I?"

Camille shook her head. "Would you like a bottle?" She fished around, then held up an empty plastic one.

"Thank you." Sam took it and threw in a lip. Camille watched his tongue roll out from between his lips.

She watched his lower lip bulge out. "So you were a police officer?"

"For a time," he said. "I played cops and robbers for a few years before I became the MPA close combat instructor."

"Really?" Her eyes grew wide with fascination. "What was that like?"

"Lotta fun," he grinned. "My favorites were always the boys who thought they were real tough until I put them in a chokehold. They changed their tune after tappin' out a few times." Camille laughed along with him.

"So what about you?" Sam asked. "What's a little lady like you do to keep herself busy?"

"No much I'm afraid," she giggled, twirling her skirt a bit as she spoke.

"I noticed you were drawin' in that notebook over there when Earl left." He pointed to her spiral pad.

"Oh, that?" She said, hoping he wouldn't see it. "I just like to scribble in my down time."

"Can I see?" Sam raised an eyebrow, and Camille nearly swooned.

She retrieved the notepad and flipped it open to her drawing of the kitten. Sam peered down, crouching slightly so as to get a closer view. "Mm, not bad," he mumbled. He thumbed the page corner and turned it up to reveal a couple of billy goats munching on grass. Camille counted the pages as he turned, careful to stop him if he flipped too far in. Sam leaned up and closed the pad. "You've got some fine skills there miss." Camille blushed but managed to whisper a 'thank you.'

Sam checked his watch. "Well, it's about closin' time. Should we head out?"

"Yeah, sure!" Camille did some last minute wrap up, eager to jet off and stare at Sam's jawline some more.

Sam went outside, disposed of his chew, and waited for her to lock up. When all was said and done, he said, "Say, you wanna ride with me?" He motioned to a black two-up motorcycle. "I can drop you off later tonight after we're done."

"Really!?" Camille bounced a little when she saw the bike.

"Of course," he unfastened the extra helmet from the side cargo net and handed it to her. "You can throw your stuff in the tail bag."

Camille did just that as Sam mounted the bike. He secured his sunglasses and helmet then offered a hand as Camille settled into the passenger seat. She wrapped her arms around his solid frame and snuggled in close, happy he couldn't see her excited face behind the visor. Sam started the bike up with a rumble, and together they zipped towards Tramps. The ends of Camille's shoulder length hair fluttered as they rode along the 25. After a few minutes, they arrived at Tramps.

Camille hopped off and ripped her helmet off, "Wow, thanks for that!."

Sam removed his helmet too, "You're welcome. Lemme know if you ever wanna go ridin' again sometime."

They headed inside and saw Earl already at the bar. He greeted them, "The hell took you so long? I almost thought you ran off and eloped." Sam glanced at a giggling Camille and smirked. Camille ordered nothing. Sam ordered a Jack and Coke. The trio ordered some food and watched as patrons shot pool balls across felt tables. One guy, too tipsy to notice he shouldn't be playing pool, tripped over his feet as he lined up a shot. He rebounded off the floor, cigarette still in his mouth, like nothing happened. Camille occasionally leaned over to ask Sam a question about the rules. He answered, if not a little skeptical that she already knew what she was talking about. After a few intense rounds of poker, in which one woman nearly vomited all over the table, patron after patron filed out to call it a night.

Earl downed the last of his Crown Royal. "Welp you two, I've had enough. I better get home before Billie Jean starts fillin' up my inbox." He looked at his phone and grimaced. "Oop, too late." He turned off his phone and waved goodbye. "See you tomorrow Camille. Always good seein' you Sam. You should drop by more often." They hugged and Earl left.

"Ain't that somethin'," Sam said.

"What?" Camille asked.

"Not everyday you see a drunk pull off a straight flush like that."

Camille giggled, then noticed his drink mostly full. "You're not gonna drink that?"

"Hm? Oh, nah I wasn't as thirsty as I thought I was. Plus, I still gotta take you back. That's best done sober." He stretched his arms far and wide, yawning all the while. "Well?" Sam asked as he stood to go. "Shall we?" He tossed two $20s on the bar.

"Lead the way," Camille said.

Sam and Camille geared up and hopped back on his motorcycle. Cruising back to the shop, Camille melted into Sam's muscular back once more. The road back to Hartfield's was dark and secluded. Few cars passed by the shop, and fewer pedestrians roamed the streets. Camille slid off the bike and stored her helmet in the cargo net. Sam dismounted, removed his helmet, then placed it on the seat.

Camille bubbled, "Thanks a lot for letting me ride on your bike."

"Your're welcome missy." Sam smiled back.

"I hope you make it back to Montgomery okay." She turned to go.

He ran a hand over his hair, "Hey, before you go, I think I left somethin' of mine in the back office when I was talkin' to Earl. Could you let me inside?"

"Of course." Camille fished her keys out and unlocked the front door. "You gotta make it quick though, Earl doesn't like leaving the lights on after hours."

"Don' worry, I'll use my phone light." He held his phone up and swept towards the back.

The street lights flooded into the wide glass pane windows, decorating the floor with elongated shadow decals. Camille put her purse on the counter. She adjusted her glasses, realizing she forgot to grab her notepad from earlier. Sam fidgeted with something in the back. The sound of furniture scraping the floor echoed inside the backroom. Camille headed to the back, notepad in hand, and saw Sam situated on an old camelback loveseat the was previously tucked in the corner.

Sam let out a relived exhale. He lifted his head back up, "Sorry, I know you said to be quick, but this thing looked so dang comfortable I couldn't resist." He tossed his head back again, a contented smile on his lips.

Camille giggled, switched on the back light, and approached the empty spot. "Mind if I join you?"

Sam lifted his head, "Not at all." He winked and watched as she eased herself in close to him.

Camille placed her notepad on her lap. She crossed her legs, wringing her fingers softly, feeling his eyes roll over her arm, then neck, then chin.

Sam put an ankle up on his knee, stretched an arm behind Camille's shoulders, and pulled a flask from his jacket pocket. He took a pull; his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

He offered it up, "Want some?"

"Oh no thank you," Camille shook her head and held up a hand.

"Come on baby girl," Sam goaded. "Just a sip. I won't tell anybody."

Camille blushed and took the flask. The alcohol barely touched her tongue before she coughed it back out. Drips of Kentucky Bourbon dribbled from her mouth. She leaned forward to catch them with her free hand. The notepad slid onto the floor, opening to a random page. Sam stifled a laugh, but you could still hear it in the back of his throat as he took his flask. He reached down to grab her notepad and saw the half finished naked male torso she drew earlier. Camille blushed harder, stuttering as she attempted some kind of explanation. Sam darted his eyes to her panicked demeanor, then leaned back and thumbed through page after page after page, much to Camille's horror. Each little section was filled with self-images of Camille bent over a knee being spanked. Sometimes with a hand, sometimes with a paddle, sometimes the hand just rested on her ass. Sam's lip curled as he flipped up the next page to see Camille being held down by a group of a three men as they ripped her clothes off. Camille tried to snatch her notepad from him, but Sam caught her wrist and continued to turn the page with one hand. Each little portrait was more graphic than the next. Sketches of Camille sucking cock, of taking it from behind, of tears falling from her face.

"Well well well," Sam smirked. "I wonder if Earl knows he's got a little pervert working for him."

"That's private!" Camille stood this time to try and take back her drawings.

Sam tossed the notepad across the backroom floor and watched Camille scramble to retrieve it. As she bent over to pick it up, he kicked out her back leg, and she sprawled onto her face. Before she could get up, Sam put a knee into her back and a hand on her neck.

"OW! Christ! Get off! What are ya doin'?" Camille flailed her arms above her head, unable to see exactly what he was doing.

"Well, seein' as how you've been flirtin' all night. I figure we just move to the next step." Sam draped the middle of her skirt up the back of her thighs and exposed a pair of pink panties. He splayed his fingers beneath the hem of her underwear and watched as she squirmed at his touch. She whimpered and moaned, but she couldn't move with his hand bearing down on the back of her neck.

"GET THE FUCK OFF!" She screamed; tears formed in her eyes.

Sam pressed his thumb into her carotid artery, then leaned down, whispering. "You watch that pretty little mouth of yours. Else I might drag you back to Montgomery with me so I can turn you into my practice dummy." Camille cried freely and tried to scratch at his face, desperate to be free. Sam gripped her wrist and wrenched her arm into a chicken wing, eliciting a sharp yelp.

"Please Sam!" she pleaded, "please stop! You're hurting me!"

A hum glided from his vocal chords, "Well we don't want that, do we? Say, why don't we take a page from your book." He picked up her small frame and put her on all fours then jammed his knee up under her stomach. Camille cried harder, her glasses now wet with tears. Sam yanked up her skirt, and nearly ripped off her panties as he slid them down the backs of her knees. His rough hand rubbed against her bare ass, grabbing a handful of each cheek. He carefully wrapped his other hand across her mouth. Camille tensed, knowing what would come next. A pause hung in the air.

SLAP!

A muffled screech escaped Camille's throat, yet she was too scared to try to get a way a second time.

SLAP!

Another muffled screech escaped, this time much louder. Sam made a shushing noise and caressed her bottom which was turning bright red.

... SLAP!

Camille bucked at that one, and Sam tightened his grip around her mouth as she struggled to breath. Every time he smacked her ass, he waited until she went still to slap her again. He felt the hot tears trickle over his knuckles; he smiled at this. After a few spankings on each cheek, Camille tried to say something. Sam noticed the vibration and released his grip. She huffed in air, stuttering between inhales.

"Please," she begged, "please stop. I can't take anymore."

"Aww, c'mon now baby girl, you haven't even got to ten yet."

"Please don't!" she said. "Please!"

"I'm not stoppin' 'til I get to ten." He thought for a moment. "Tell you what. You count these last few, then I'll stop spankin' you. But remember," he grabbed a handful of hair and snapped her head back. "You keep it quiet now."

Camille's glasses had fallen off by this point, and she couldn't see straight, but still, she agreed.

A pause.

SLAP!

She grimaced, "one."

SLAP!

"t-two..."

SLAP!

"nnn ttthhhrrreeee"

Her body trembled, shook, and twitched as Sam grazed his fingers across the deep redness of her bottom. He removed his knee from under, and she collapsed in a puddle of tears and pain. Her body ached, and her mind spun in never-ending circles. Sam let her catch her breath for a moment... but only a moment. He undid his belt buckle with one hand and jerked it through all the loops in a fluid motion. Camille barely turned her head in time to see him bring the blurry doubled-over end down on her back. She wailed against the attack and tried to roll away, but the back room was only so big. She only made it a few feet before she met the wall.

"Where the fuck you think you're goin' baby girl. I ain't done." Sam said, standing there, his frame practically taking up the doorway.

"B-b-but," Camille protested. "Y-you said if I c-counted, you'd st-stop."

"No," he cocked his head. "I said I was done spankin' you. But I ain't done with you." He dropped his belt and unzipped his fly.

Sam looked over at the switch and turned it off.

From the encompassing darkness, Camille saw his impending silhouette highlighted by the streetlight from the front entrance.

As she choked out more sobs, all she heard was approaching footsteps followed by, "I ain't done with you by a long shot."

Sam's footsteps fell heavy on the hardwood surface of the backroom at Hartfield's. Belt in hand, he dragged Camille by the hair towards the loveseat. Her pink panties were still twisted around her knees, and she struggled to gain any kind of bearing. She fumbled along before Sam threw her on face first into the back rest. He chucked the belt next to her head, dropped to his knees behind her ass, and spread her thighs apart with his hands. Her panties stretched and ripped slightly as he did so. Camille wanted to cry out, wanted to run, wanted to do something.

But she did nothing.

She just froze.

Afraid.

Her body, now rigid and tense, felt extra sensitive after the spanking. She heard the zipper of Sam's trousers and not so silently sobbed into the cushions. Sam reached into his back pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. He grabbed the corners, spun it around, and tied a large knot in the center. He pulled Camille's head up by her hair and forced the knot into her mouth, then tied it tight mumbling, "I told you to keep it quiet." Her body ached from clenching every muscle. Sam playfully patted her privates and smiled when she flinched forward. He wet his fingertips and probed the edges of her opening, slowly pushing his calloused fingers in all the way to the knuckles. He paused as she squirmed and gyrated on his hand, trying to escape the invasion. He rubbed back and forth, listening to her muffled whines grow higher in pitch and frequency. Her shoulders raised off the loveseat, and he pushed the back of her neck back down until she was flat on the seat. The slick sound of her pussy filled her ears, and for a second, she was ashamed.