Transposed Jill

"Walter!" She cried before he embraced and kissed her from behind. She turned in his arms until she was facing him. After a deep. Prolonged kiss, Jill said,

"We have to get to work!"

"We could both call in sick."

He kissed her deeply again for a long time.

"Much as I want to, you know we can't."

"Kill joy."

Both reluctantly rose from the bed.

In the kitchen, Jill noted that the broken tiles had been replaced as had the waffle iron.

"Walter!" she squealed with delight.

"I had to do something while I was awaiting your release from jail."

She placed the paper next to his place at the table.

"Anything good in the news?"

"Not really, I only subscribe to read "Calvin and Hobbes" and "The Far Side" in the comics.

"But those stopped running a long time ago!"

"Really? Now that would be news, Garry Larson and Bill Watterson are the duo keeping the daily newspaper alive in this country. I don't know anybody who subscribes to a paper for any other reason, except maybe for the obituaries or if their kid is a reporter or something."

Jill looked at her husband. This was not her universe. Did that matter?

"Excellent bacon, wife."

"Thank you, husband."

"Maybe we can go for a drive tonight. We could drive out to the country, my hand resting on your nylon-clad leg. We could pull over at Miller's Pond and do a little skinny dipping!"

"Walter my mother is coming over after I finish work."

"So, bring her along!"

"Pervert!"

"Unquestionably!"

With a final gulp of his coffee, he bent down and kissed her before he headed out the door and off to the train station.

Jill put on one of the lovely dresses in her closet and fixed her face for work. It looked like it might rain, so she donned a raincoat. It was stylish and complimented her dress. The drive was uneventful. She tuned in to NPR's Morning Edition. The news sure seemed the same but there were incidents and small details that she felt were wrong somehow. The first big shock of the day came as soon as she hung her coat on the tree by the entrance. Her name was stenciled on an office door. She'd applied for a promotion three weeks ago. On the earth she knew, she had been passed over for the job. Now she knew how that strange couch had ended up in her living room. She had the money for it now! Perhaps her translocation was a bonus.

She entered the office. All the personal touches were hers, right down to the picture of Walter on the desk. No sooner had she sat down and settled herself than Helene entered.

"Good morning, Helene."

"Good morning, boss."

"You seem unhappy, Helene."

"Phil just finished spanking me."

Jill's jaw dropped.

"My own damn fault, really, I misplaced all the statements for the Ricardo Account. Misplaced the copies at the same time."

"Oh, dear!"

"Yeah, ten minutes after Phil lights up my keister, I remember that I had them in the mailroom when I went out to get a cup of coffee. Sure enough, there they were, buried under a bundle of outgoing mail. If only our brains worked without the corporal reminders."

"Helene? Phil bent you over his knee?"

"Yap and yanked down my knickers and applied the hand of authority."

"Helene, you should complain to HR!"

Helene chuckled. "That's a good one, boss! Shirley would laugh me right out of her office."

"But..."

"Yeah, the butt! I took it like a woman."

"Helene..."

"You look a little green around the gills, boss, are you sure you're recovered?"

Jill shook her head trying to make everything line up once more.

"Yes, Helene, I'm fine. Bring me up to speed on what I missed."

The middle-aged secretary gave Jill a blow-by-blow account of the company's last couple of days. Nothing was out of Jill's wheelhouse. In a couple of days, a week tops she'd be completely up to speed.

"Bring me the Jefferson Account, Helene. I want to make sure it is correct."

"I'll get it. Reminder, department meeting at ten. All hands on deck."

"Right."

Helene filed out of Jill's office as she walked away all the displaced housewife could think of was Phil, the company's hard-nosed CEO and her direct supervisor bending Helene over his lap. The Phil she knew owned a sour disposition and got angry at the drop of a hat. He was also large with huge tennis racquet hands. The Phil she knew probably wanted to get every woman in the company over his knee. "And in this universe, he can!" she finished the thought out loud. She would have to watch herself around him.

The department meeting went off without a hitch.

"Nice to see that the layoff didn't leave you unprepared, Jill."

"Thanks, Phil."

His smile faded.

"Don't read too much into it Hastings. Screw up and you'll be across my knee. I expect perfection with every account. Every I dotted, every t crossed, and all the math equations balanced."

He followed this by taking in the entire room with a meaningful stare.

"Do I make myself clear, ladies and gentlemen?"

"Yes, Sir!" was the instantaneous response.

For a first day that wasn't a first day, Jill was quite pleased with her performance. The thought of Phil spanking her filled her with revulsion. Yet, a nagging fear lingered that someday, she would find herself in that very situation. She drove home in a contemplative mood. Just before her mother arrived, she had the tea and scones ready.

Jill was thunderstruck by the appearance of this universe's version of her mother. This one was twenty-five pounds lighter and quite fit. She looked at least a decade younger than the calendar claimed. Jill stated and gasped before venturing with,

"Mom! You look terrific!"

"Thank you, darling."

"What's your secret?"

"Oh, come on. You know. This is your father's doing."

"Really?"

"What have I been telling you? With you and your sister out of the house for some time now, Roger reconnected with his role of marital disciplinarian. He bought me a gym membership, hired a trainer, and spanked the Dickens out of me if I didn't properly apply myself during my workouts. He made sure I followed my diet the same way. It certainly has been worth it. I got wolf-whistled yesterday, downtown. That hadn't happened in a long time! The young male clerks smile at me in the shops now; and that kid who delivers our groceries? The other day, I caught him checking me out. He seemed particularly interested in my legs. It reminded me of when I was first dating your father. Roger mentioned often back then that he adored my legs! I can't believe how much I let myself go. Thank God for a husband with a firm guiding hand and a firm, manly swat!"

Jill absorbed this information. For the life of her, she could not picture her father spanking her mother. Yet, that was apparently the case. Jill couldn't argue with the results.

"Maybe there is something to this spanking business after all," she mused.

"Oh, absolutely, sweetheart. They made you the woman you are."

"Well, I don't know about that."

"Yes, you do!"

Jill just stared.

"Not to mention what all the weight loss and firm muscles have done for your father and me between the sheets."

"Oh, my God, Mom! TMI!"

The older woman chuckled.

"Well, it's true!"

"No child should imagine their parents making love!"

"Ha! As if you haven't shown me that picture of your Walter with his shirt off at the beach often enough!"

"That's different!"

"How so?"

"Well..."

"If you mention my or your father's age, I'll be sure to have him stop by tomorrow and spank you for insolence!"

"Mom!" I just meant."

"I know what you meant."

There was a long pause.

"So, kid, are you going to tell me about prison or not?"

"You know about that?"

"Walter called me. What were you thinking?"

Jill decided to confide in her mother. She told her everything starting from the hen party to her day at work. Her mother looked at her a bit cockeyed before placing a hand on her shoulder and said,

"Darling. I'm sure you believe every word of that. If you keep talking like that, however, they will put you away. Do you have any idea what mental health hospitals are like? Shock therapy alternates with spank therapy, and they keep you naked twenty-four-seven. Even when you have visitors! Once you go in, very few come out again. I'd hate to see that happen to you, sweetie."

She embraced Jill.

"Believe me, honey, you are my daughter. There is no question that I carried you in my womb, that you were the one I took home from the hospital and raised. I saw you turn from a signet into a beautiful swan. A mother knows these things."

"Oh, mom. I love you!"

Walter chose that moment to come home.

"Hello, Margaret!"

"Hiya stud!" she fired back.

He bent and kissed his mother-in-law on the cheek before locking lips with his wife.

"Staying for dinner, Margaret?"

"Tempting offer, stud. But I have to cook for Roger."

"Too bad. Jill and I were planning to go skinny dipping at Miller's Pond. Pity you can't join us."

"Honey!"

"Hey, your mother is a beautiful woman."

"Down boy!" giggled Margaret.

"You are incorrigible, Walter!" exclaimed Jill.

"I'll let you two unwind," stated Margaret as she rose and headed for the door. It closed behind her.

"Have you been checking out my mother?"

"She's worth checking out."

"She's, my mom!"

"So?"

"That's gross, Walter!"

"You're not a guy."

"Thank God!"

"I know your mother was over, but I have to ask, will dinner be long?"

"It won't be that long if you help me."

"OK, what do I do?"

Get a pot, fill it, and put it on the stove. We will make spaghetti and meatballs. It should not take long.

As they prepared the meal, Jill asked, "Do you remember the Walkers barbeque?"

"Yes."

"Can you remind me of what happened?"

"It wasn't your finest hour. The Walkers had a brand-new smoker. It was taking longer than everyone expected. Your brilliant attempt to hurry it along ended up with it in the pool."

"You spanked me?"

"I had to honey, you ruined the Walkers' smoker, there were kids in the pool, and the Walkers had to have the pool drained. It was an expensive, life-threatening mistake. If I hadn't taken you over my knee then I would have let you, the Walkers, society, and myself down."

"But in front of kids!"

"They were victims of your error; they had the right to see your correction."

"Did anybody see anything?"

"You mean, were they made aware of the fact that you are a natural redhead? The way you were squirming in my lap. Probably."

"Was it really necessary?"

"Yes."

She slid into his arms. "Honey, I don't like it when you spank me."

"You're not supposed to like it. In that, you are no different from any other woman in our society."

"OK, but can you promise not to spank me anymore."

"Don't be ridiculous. You need it. Every woman needs it."

"You really believe that?"

"Most sincerely, I'm a man like every other man on the planet."

"But Walter, honey."

"I dislike the tone of this conversation. Womanly discipline is the linchpin of our society. A girl is spanked by her father and then by her husband or significant other. It is a manly obligation to make sure that women are properly corrected and that he does it well, not brutally, not in anger whenever he is in a position of authority. If you are questioning that, Jill. I am going to take umbridge at it and it will end in a spanking for you."

"Darling, I'm just a bit confused."

"Obviously."

"How often do you spank me?"

"You know the answer to that. As often as you require it. I spanked you the first time on our honeymoon when you lost your towel on the balcony and flashed those horny college boys."

Jill remembered the incident. In her universe, Walter had gotten extremely angry, and they had their first real row. Walter was positive that she had flashed the boys on purpose and nothing Jill could say could convince him otherwise. It was a bitter memory that stained their honeymoon. But maybe, if her Walter had spanked her, it would have been over immediately. No, that wasn't right, or was it?

Jill decided that further questioning along this line was fruitless. Since darkness had already descended, they chose to postpone the long drive and possibly skinny dipping. She opted to sit down and watch a little television with Walter. Jill was flabbergasted by a report on the news. The President of the United States took his own female Vice President over his knee because she missed a vote on the Senate floor and his bill ended in a tie vote and therefore failed to pass.

"You had one job," he explained. "It was your personal and constitutional duty to be there and cast that vote!"

The very pretty, much younger, vice president offered no defense. The failure had been a result of poor scheduling on her part and on the part of her staff.

"I'm sorry, Sir. No woman is above correction."

She bit her lip and slid into his lap. She wore a lovely designer burgundy gown that fell to just below her knee. On national television, the president hiked up her skirt, revealing to the entire civilized world that the second most powerful person in the world was wearing black translucent knickers and matching thigh-high, self-supporting stockings. "Nice ass!" commented Walter. The leader of the free world tugged down the black panties and revealed the round white posterior of the negligent politician. A swarm of flashbulbs from the news cameras illuminated the Oval Office.

The aging president, whom many claimed was too old and infirm for the toughest job in the world, delivered a dozen surprisingly firm and resoundingly loud slaps of his second-in-command's naked buttocks. The news cameras focused on the red handprints of the commander-in-chief on the pale flesh of the powerful penitent. The announcer dubbed them, "The mark of discipline and authority." The strength and reserve he had shown in delivering the required correction was immediately popular with the public. The president shot up ten points in the satisfaction polls. The vice president's willingness to submit to proper authority had, together with her maturity in not emitting a single tear, made her the prime candidate to replace him when he was termed out of office.

Jill took it all in. Like a thunderclap ringing in her head, she realized that she would be spanked again and there was nothing she could do to prevent. It. If even a woman as powerful as the vice president could be spanked on national television, what hope did she, Miss Jane Q. Public, have to avoid it? She could just feel Phil's impossibly large hands crashing into her sensitive rear end the first time her report was less than perfect! The thought of him rendering her vulnerable, yanking down her knickers and gazing at her pert little bum in all its naked glory filled her with revulsion. What is the opposite of Déjà vu? The perception that a future event had already occurred or was about to occur. The universe spun around her. For better or for worse she was, for lack of a better word, home. Very subtly, she rubbed her buttocks, it was, she knew with absolute certainty, due for a serious workout. Probably even sooner than she feared. The room became unaccountably chilly.