Alternate Inspirations
The bright white LCD screen flashed with advertisements, promising free iPods
and Playstations. “Click here to find true love!” “Click here to make free money,
no effort!” Mike Cielo found one blaring banner particularly relevant: “Change
your life right now!”
He heard the crashes and bangs as his roommate stumbled into the apartment, obviously
drunk again. It was Thursday, and he had been home early in preparation for work
the next morning. Closing the laptop, his dark green eyes pored over the spreadsheets,
and as he pushed his black hair out of them, he stood and went to the door of
his room.
With a mixture of pity and anger, he watched as she giggled her way onto the
couch. Adriana was 22, like him. They had met through a craigslist posting 3
years ago, both seeking someone to share the rent in a city where only the wealthy
could afford to live alone outside of abject squalor. Two college students who
had quickly cut through the awkward tape of a new person you live with and became
fast friends.
The problems had only started recently. After graduation, Mike had gotten a job
rather quickly. By default they had agreed to stay as roomies. In fact, they
hadn't even needed to broach the question. However, Adriana had not been so lucky
in her search for employment.
She lay there, laughing at some recalled joke, prone on the couch in their modest
living room. It also doubled as a dining room, with a table and a few straight
backed chairs. The walls were adorned with photographs, Adriana's work. The pictures
were a hobby, but she was talented enough to make more of it, had she applied
herself. Instead, she had graduated with a degree in philosophy, for some reason
Mike never understood.
“I thought you were sending out applications all afternoon.” Mike ventured, and
Adriana rolled her head in his direction. She slurred her response with a charming
smile, despite the empty look in her hazel eyes.
“Well, I did. And nothing happened. Not a thing! SO I decided to go and make
something ELSE happen. Which it did. I think,” she ended with a giggle.
“Going to the bar and getting plastered for the third time this week does not
constitute making something happen,” he intoned. She blew her long, auburn locks
off her face as she snorted.
“Don't be such a freakin' downer, Mike. Yer killin' my buzz.”
“I'm sorry for being a speedbump on you're road to happy oblivion,” he replied.
Adriana jumped off the couch, anger flaring in her eyes. Her upper lip curled as she barked out at him, “Don't you start with me, Mike! Don't even!”
He didnt reply. Didnt have the chance, as she stormed off into her room, slamming
the door behind her. The clinking of bottles passed through the thin walls, followed
by music played purposefully loud. He sighed, and turned back to his room, closing
the door himself.
Sleep was difficult to come by, thanks to Adriana's angry soundtrack. As he lay
there, he couldn't help but stew the problem over in his head. She was a jersey
girl, the spoiled princess kind. It had never really been a problem before, being
busy with school and all that. But now her behavior was really getting out of
hand. As he recalled, her parents had divorced when she was young. The cruel
and typical game of “Who loves you more” played between her parents, wreaking
dire consequences that were suddenly affecting her life so much.
Mike hadn't exactly had a Leave it to Beaver childhood himself, but hey, who
did these days? There were some things he knew, however. There was no way his
parents would have let him get away with acting like she did, no sir. Anything
CLOSE to the sheer disrespect and vitriol she was spouting would have landed
him a sore bottom. Screaming like she did, he wouldn't have been able to sit
for a week, as the same words his parents always said whenever discipline was
dealt rang in his head.
“Actions have consequences,” he whispered to the night. No one replied.
“Inaction also has consequences,” he followed. Still no answer.
The music faded. He slept.
******
Work the next day was inordinately busy, a blessing he did not recognize. All
thoughts of Adriana were pushed from his mind, swamped as he was with reports
he needed to file and customers he needed to take care of. He enjoyed his job,
enjoyed being an integral part of the machine that was his company. Every day
he felt like he was part of something bigger, and that something had a purpose.
It was comforting and exciting at the same time. As they often did on days such
as this, the hours flew by with startling alacrity. When his watch announced
it was time to go, he could scarcely believe it. He threw papers and reports
into his suitcase and rushed down and out of the building.
Squeezing onto the train with a million other straphangers, he saw a lady in
a business suit who looked startlingly like Adriana. But it wasn't, merely a
coincidence. The strange sighting turned his thoughts to his wayward friend,
for the first time that day, and he wondered what he should do. Outside the window,
lights flashed by in the dark tunnel. He thought back to the many nights they
had shared on this train and others, coming back from this party or that event,
laughing, often a little drunk. She was his best friend; he didn't question that.
The thought of turning her out, even if she was a real bitch lately, hurt him
more than he could voice.
His words didn't reach her, no matter how often he lectured her. Earlier in the
month he had tried giving her the cold shoulder, but he had lacked the conviction
to carry that through. Any threats of eviction were idle and she knew it. He
seemed to be out of options.
Unless....
The thought he had gave him pause.
He would see what she had done today, before any further action would be taken.
******
Placing his keys on the shelf next to the door, Mike entered the apartment with
purpose. He walked right past Adriana, sitting lazily on the couch with the TV
on. He entered his room, placed his briefcase on his desk, and let out a deep
breath. She had noticed his cool entrance and likely assumed he was ignoring
her again. He walked out the door into the living room.
She neglected to even look away from the TV, content to sit there ignoring him.
She was wearing an oversized t-shirt and a floppy cotton skirt, her typical comfort
clothes. Mike stood there for a minute, watching her. The TV had another one
of those daytime talk shows — some guy with an attitude and a book to sell telling
people to turn their lives around. Adriana watched with cynicism written all
over her face.
“So is this what you did all day?” he asked calmly. She didn't look up.
“I'm getting inspired.” was her reply. The words were toneless.
“Adriana...” he started, his resolve slipping in the face of her apathy. He was
nervous and unsure of himself, when she rose to her feet, spite marring her face.
“Why Mike? Got something to say?” she practically spat.
His mouth opened, a thousand responses dying in his throat. He said nothing
for probably four awkward seconds, before she turned away.
“Yeah, I thought not,” came the resentful follow up.
Something in Mike changed, right there. He set his jaw, narrowed his eyes,
and grabbed her by the wrist. She looked up in surprise.
“What are yo–” she began. But by then he was dragging her over to the table on
the other side of the room. He pulled one of the armless, straight back chairs
out and sat down in it. A puzzled look crossed Adriana's face, but before she
could realize his intentions, he had yanked her over his knee.
“What the hell, Mike? You thin– OW! OWHOW! HEY!” came her protests, as his bare
hand landed solid smacks across her backside. She jerked and struggled, but he
held her tight. She raised her voice to protest again, but he cut her off, continuing
the spanking throughout.
“Adriana, I've had it up to here with this. You need to get your stuff together
and stop being such a bitch to the person trying to help you out!” he said, confidence
flooding through him.
She raised her hand in the way of his, and he grabbed it, pinning it to the
small of her back.
“Stop struggling, or else I'll make it worse! This is to get you back on the
right track!”
Despite the warning, she continued to kick and fight. So after a few more choice smacks, he grabbed the hem of her cotton skirt and flipped it up. She howled in protest, then in shock as his hand rained down blows upon the thin cotton panties. She said nothing, aside from “OW! OW! OUUUUCH!”
When her hand broke free of his grip and once again sought to interfere, he
pulled the hem of her panties down, and began to spank her on her bare behind.
THIS brought a much more vocal reaction.
Within a minute, she was starting to sob, and the words he had been waiting for
poured almost incoherently from her lips.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh god, Mike, I'm sorry,” she cried penitently. He softened
up, eventually stopping.
“Do you mean that?” he asked.
She sniffled and nodded.
“Alright, get up then,” he directed.
She stood, panties still around her knees. Her face was tear stained and remorseful.
It was obvious to him that she thought this was over. It was not. He got up and
strode to the kitchen, where he grabbed the first relevant tool he could think
of. Adriana was silent, aside from her sniffles. When he walked back into view,
wooden spoon in hand, her knees wobbled.
“I am guessing by your silence that you have realized you deserve this,” he said.
She said nothing, eyes downcast. Without stopping, he moved back over to the
chair. Instead of sitting, however, he put his hands on Adriana's back and pushed
her over the back of the chair, instructing her to grab the seat. Flipping her
skirt back up, he could see the redness of her skin, almost feel the heat. This
did not deter him from his course.
“Do not let those hands leave that chair,” he ordered.
Adriana nodded submissively through a sniffle. Standing at her side, he put
his left hand on her back, and raised the spoon in his right.
THWACK! Was the sound it made, over and over, Adriana jumping and crying along.
Her hands never left the seat, however, despite the blows. All the while, Mike
talked to her.
“No more going to the bar during the week alone!” THWACK!
“No more sitting around, doing nothing but watching TV!” THWACK!
“No more talking to me as if I were your ENEMY!” he yelled, that last blow striking
the hardest.
She sank to her knees, knowing somehow it was over. She was crying, whispering the words, “I'm sorry...You're right.”
Mike bent down and embraced her. She melted into his arms, all the guilt and
anger flowing right out of her. Gently, he kissed her forehead and wiped away
her tears.
“I'm here to help, Adriana.”
She nodded.
“Thank you for all the inspiration I really needed, Mike.
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