This was to be a DD play night. But something is up. Something is whirling around in that head of hers that says it won’t “just” be a DD kind of night, but rather something else that is poking around.
“Remember when we were kids and made handprints in the sand,” she asks. “Yes, yes I do… but that’s sort of random, don’t you think?”
“Not particularly…” is all I get, with a sideways glance and grin.
Later that night, as we’re settling down for the night, you grin again and tell me “yeah, it’s time. Could you go bring me that bag of stuff I pulled – it’s in the guest room, under the bed.” What? What bag, I wonder. Always dangerous to be clueless. Always.
I bring the bag back, handing it to her, and she looks me in the eye… “did you look,” she asks…
I shake my need. Nope. Not gonna happen. I know better.
“Tonight, we’re going to experiment a bit,” she says. She pulls out several… implements. Each one has one thing in common – they all have the shape of a hand on them. Or in them. Or made by them.
- A cat-o-nine-tails with silly hands at the ends of the “arms”
- A paddle, with a hand cutout
- A paddle, in the shape of a hand
- A crop with a hand-shaped business-end
- And those gloves. The vampire gloves.
“See, all things have to do with hands. Easy, right?” I flinch.
“I’m just curious what a good swat or two will bring from each of these. But unfortunately, since we can mar the canvas with warmups, it may have to be on … virgin skin. Sorry.” I am frozen in space a bit. I know what it takes to get a solid welt or red mark.
And, a handful of spikes in that vampire glove set doesn’t seem like a great swat type of tool, I suspect the swat will drive its color from the pin-pricks…
“Our goal is to create a handprint from each. Then figure out what works best and what deserves a second look. Of course, I’ll have to pick carefully on placement…” she says trailing off. That grin again.
“On the bed please… face down of course.” I slow crawl up and forward, bracing well before anything could possibly be happening.
“Now, let’s see. Where to start. This one, I think. “
I look back and see the paddle with the hand shape carved out of it, roughly the size of a full-size person’s hand. “Oh, look at that, my hand slides right through it – big hand!” she says.
“Settle in…” is all I hear, just before the WHOOSH, the crack, and everything turns white for an instant as my nerves fire and respond.
Oh man, this is going to be rough is the first thought that I hear, over and above my yelps. But I only hear it for a minute, as I catch her out of the corner of my eye lining up once again…
4 thoughts on “It’s Just a Little Handprint”
Good ol Charmer!
I love the set-up of this story 😉
It’s just a nice themed evening :))
An interesting selection of tools.