The Banker

After the twentieth swat, my right butt cheek felt like it was on fire, but as much as it hurt, I was desperate for a swat to my left cheek. I can't explain it, some kind of need for symmetry I suppose. So the first two or three smacks were actually a relief, but then it was back to pain and humiliation.

"And one for luck," shouted a winded Mrs. Williams as she gave me one last blast that landed across both cheeks.

She then turned to Miss Martin and said, "please continue reading dear."

Miss Martin, who seemed to be in a bit of a daze, shook her head as if to clear it, giggled and took up the letter again.

Now that the banker is good and tanned, he must perform a little jig and invite all the ladies in the bank to, and here Miss Martin again raised one hand aloft as if on the stage and raising her voice continued, "come out, come out and feast your eyes on my big red ass!"

I was raised off of Mrs. Williams lap and the crowd drew closer in anticipation of my further humiliation, but they would be disappointed. I flat out refused.

"This has gone to far," I said, mustering up as much dignity as I could, standing their naked, hands tied behind my back, my butt now a bright red color and my willie dangling forlornly for all the world to see.

"Are you crazy," one man yelled, "my wife is in there."

"And my mother," called out another.

I was about to tell them that I didn't give a fig, when all of the sudden the bank doors swung open and all the ladies came pouring out.

I was forgotten momentarily as the women were embraced by loved ones and quickly questioned by the sheriff.

Then the crowd turned it's attention back to me, a crowd now swelled by all the ladies from the bank, all save old Mrs. Henderson, I spied her shawl clad body headed for her car down the block. She seemed to be the only one not interested in watching my degradation.

Agnes spoke up now.

"Mr. Clyde says that we are owed either a jig or 50 more swats!"

"Oh my, said Mrs. Williams, "I'm not sure I have it in me, to do 50 more."

"I'll do it!," called out Betsy, Agnes, and a few other ladies.

But it was Miss Martin who quickly grabbed the ruler off the chair where it lay and stepped menacingly in my direction.

"No chair needed" she said as she placed a direct hit on my left butt cheek. I tried to escape the next blow, but the crowd had formed a circle and gleefully called out "two!" As the next blow struck. I looked around wildly for a sympathetic face or an escape route but found neither.

I did notice old Mrs. Henderson had decided to return, sans shawl.

"Three," she called out with the others as my bottom absorbed another blow.

"Four!"

"Looks like we might get our jig yet," someone called out as I danced around, trying to avoid another blow.

"Five!"

"Bet that thing is gonna glow in the dark tonight!"

And so it went, a whack and a comment and general merriment at my expense.

It was at around whack number 28, soon after Miss Martin had passed the ruler on to Betsy that the Bank door opened again.

It was the stranger that Clyde had pushed down upon first entering the bank.

He was running out onto the street, followed by the remaining men, yelling "Sheriff, Sheriff, Bonnie and Clyde have escaped out the back door!"

Once again I was forgotten as the sheriff and his deputy ran around the corner towards the back of the bank in hot pursuit.

As the men were reunited with their loved ones and everyone was talking all at once over what had transpired, I saw a car pull up in front of the bank.

The car was driven by a woman who tossed something out of her window. Was it a blanket, perhaps or maybe a shawl?

And then the stranger quickly hopped in the back seat. Next, a man carrying a small valise and wearing what looked like my vest darted from the bank into the front seat of the car, which sped off before he had even closed his door.

It hit me all at once. Bonnie had simply walked out with the other women disguised as it were in old Mrs. Henderson's shawl and either retrieved their getaway vehicle or had stolen one.

The stranger was an accomplice who had misdirected the police, making it possible for Clyde to simply walk out the front door with my money!

"They're getting away," I screamed. Stop them! Stop them!

About this time the Sheriff, the deputy and the third man who had been watching the back door came racing back around the corner realizing that they had been duped.

"You idiots, I screamed. Go after them, they went that way!"

Wasting no time, now that it was too late, the three men jogged over to the police station, jumped in the one squad car and sped off.

I was furious. Those keystone cops had bungled what should have been an easy arrest, by letting my naked ass be a distraction and my fellow townsfolk were just as complicit.

I started to scream at them as well and demanded that my hands be untied.

When no one moved to help me, I focused all of my vitriol on Agnes.

I told her to get over here right now if she knew what was good for her.

She stared me down and then walked over to me. She placed one hand on one shoulder and then the other hand on my other shoulder.

She looked me in the eye, smiled a tight lipped smile and then took a quick small step closer and crashed her knee into my groin.

She was kind enough to catch me as my own knees buckled and gently guide me to the pavement amid a chorus of "Oooohs."

A minute later she was again kind enough to lift me back to my feet.

"Now then," she said, "is there anyone else you'd like to ask to untie you?"

I was still catching my breathe, and though I dearly wanted my hands untied, I could not risk asking for help again.

"No? Well then I think you best run along home. Your wife has been called and is expecting you."

So I started the ten block trip home. And I was not alone. Many followed close behind, creating a parade like atmosphere.

It would seem that my wife was not the only one who had been called. All along my route people were standing in their front yards laughing and pointing as I walked by. Some would call out "nice evening for a stroll" or "hot enough for you" which would incite more laughter.

I wanted to run, but with my hands still tied, I dared not risk it.

I took comfort in that once home, my wife and mother would rush to my aid and give these people what for.

And indeed, as I closed in on the last block, I could see Nora and my mother sitting on the veranda. I was surprised to see that they did not leap up upon seeing me. My mother just smiled and took a long sip of her lemonade.

Nora guffawed and stood with her arms outstretched, "Oh my God aren't you a sight."

Then she surrendered to a fit of laughter. "When Mike called and told me what had happened, I thought it was the funniest thing that I had ever heard. And now that I see you," and here she laughed a little more, "well it is bar none the funniest thing I have ever seen."

I felt the anger rise up inside me and was about to chastise her and demand that she untie my hands, but a little echo of an ache in my groin, kept me silent.

Nora, picked up on my hesitation and pounced. She walked up to me, smirked and said, "well, well, we're not quite the same man who went off to work all high and mighty this morning, are we? Nice to see what a little public humiliation can do for a man. Oh my, that bottom is red isn't it? So sorry I wasn't there to see it for myself."

And with that she gave me a hard slap on my butt.

"We can get you a ruler," someone called out.

Both Nora and I turned and were a little startled to see the crowd that had followed me home had not dispersed.

Nora laughed and thanked the crowd for seeing me home, but assured them that the show was just about over and that as a matter of fact, she was just leaving.

She came in close and said, that's right, darling, I am leaving you. Believe me, it's been in the works for months, and well, today just became an opportunity too good to pass up.

Where will you go? I asked with genuine curiosity.

She's moving in with Mike the Butcher, said my mother, suddenly appearing beside us, suitcase in her hand, "and I am selling the house and moving in with my sister and her family.

Your welcome to stay until the house is sold, but then you'll have to find your own place.

The first showing is next Tuesday, she said so you might want to put some clothes on before then. Or not, she said, looking towards the crowd, it isn't like everyone hasn't already seen you naked. Take care dear."

With that she patted me on my cheek, yes my actual cheek and cut through the crowd and got into a waiting cab.

I then turned back to my wife. "Your leaving me for the butcher?!"

"Mmhmm," was her only reply.

But why, I sputtered.

"Oh darling. I think 'why not' pretty much covers it.

"Not to mention" and here she was obviously playing to the crowd, have you seen the size of his salami?"

The following weeks were a series of more humiliations heaped upon me.

A Bank Examiner was sent down from the state to make sure that everything was on the up and up at my little bank. So in essence, I became an employee in my own bank.

Furthermore, it was decided that Agnes and Becky could not only not be fired, but were given bonuses for keeping cool heads in a tense situation.

Not much later, this Bank Examiner, Chris, started dating Becky and it behooved me to stay on her good side. I also couldn't help but notice that when he gave her bottom a little pinch, it only elicited giggles.

Agnes started dating Mike's brother and couldn't wait to come into work everyday and regale me with stories about how much in love Mike and Nora were, how they just couldn't keep their hands off each other!

The final humiliation was the promotion. Now banks are known for little giveaways as an incentive for getting their customers to deposit a bit more of their hard earned money.

Chris thought that a pen with the bank's name on it was just the ticket. He was all set to place the order when Agnes and Becky convinced him otherwise.

And so it was that yesterday box after box of rulers with my face on them were delivered.

When the bank opened this morning, a steady stream of customers came in to make a deposit and get their ruler. Each time Becky or Agnes handed over a ruler they would point to it and the customer would throw back their head and laugh. I assumed that the joke was because my picture was on the ruler, and yes, that was part of the joke, but upon closer inspection I saw that a thick black line ran the width of the ruler at the two and a half inch line.