Page 362 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

She gave him a dry look. “What?”

“We could be doing ‘The Story of O.’”

Her look turned incredulous. “Morgan! That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“No? Have you ever seen ‘The Story of O’?”

“No.”

“Trust me,” he said. “If you’d seen it, you’d feel better.”

She shook her head and turned back around to stare up at the dark house.

“Just go inside,” Morgan said. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll come back and walk you to school in the morning.”

Audrey’s shoulders slumped. “I have to go to school?”

“We’re seventeen, according—”

“—according to the script,” she intoned with him, then sighed. “I don’t suppose I could just click my heels together, say, ‘There’s no place like home,’ and have all of this just disappear?”

“I’ll be cross if it does, since it didn’t work for me,” Morgan said. Then his tone turned soothing, “You’ll be okay, Audrey. I’m going to help you through this. We’ll do a scene-by-scene rundown of what you can expect tomorrow. Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of warning before things start to get hairy. I’m going to do everything I can to keep you as safe as possible, all right?”

Audrey started slowly up the walkway, but only got a few steps before she spun around on her heel and came back to him. “Would, um… would you mind, Morgan, um… staying here tonight—I mean, sleep on the couch or… I know we don’t know each other, but…”

“Nothing’s going to happen tonight,” he assured her. “I know where all the spiders are; you’re perfectly safe.”

“I know, I—I just don’t want to be alone tonight.” She looked straight at his chest so she wouldn’t have to see him laugh at her childishness.

Except that he didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. “Sure. If that’s what you want.”

“You’ll sleep here with me?” she asked, then abruptly flushed. “Well, I don’t mean with me, I meant—”

“I know what you meant.” He grinned. “Just give me a pillow and blanket. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

And he did, too. He spent the whole night lying on the carpet by the twin bed in Beth’s second-floor, baby-doll room. He didn’t even complain. He snored like a chainsaw, but he didn’t complain. He didn’t make fun of her, either. That was almost enough right there to make her want to forgive him for spanking her.

She rolled from her belly onto her side. The instant her tender bottom touched the sheets and mattress, and she sucked a sharp breath and quickly turned back onto her stomach. An echo of her earlier burning sensation returned, and the word ‘forgiveness’ vanished from her personal dictionary.

She slugged him with one of her two pillows instead, then quickly closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep.

“Huh?” He sat up blearily. “What?”

Though her actions were childish, they did make her feel a bit better.

She pretended to be asleep until Morgan yawned and scratched his chest. Then he picked up the pillow and set it on the bed next to her. He patted her hand lightly, before laying back down. A few minutes later, the snores rattled up from the floor again.

Opening her eyes, Audrey drew the returned pillow into a one-armed embrace, hugged it close to her body and sighed. Great. Now she felt guilty too. Cussed man. He was only being nice just to spite her.

Breakfast was scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, all in varying shades of in-between-the-scenes, unappetizing gray. Audrey hadn’t yet identified what he’d given her to drink. Might have been orange juice. Could have been milk. She’d probably know for sure if she ever worked up the courage to sip some, but uncertain what to set her taste buds to expect, she was understandably reluctant.

Morgan sat across the kitchen table from her in full ‘ivy league’ dress, complete with tie and cardigan sweater. He’d picked her clothes out for her, refusing to let her wear her ‘dungarees,’ as he’d called them, to school. Instead, she was decked out like a doll in a pale, belted, past-the-knee length dress (which might have been yellow or even a pale pink, judging by the gray shading), with clunky, white-and-black saddle shoes on her feet. And rather than partaking of normal breakfast time conversation, Morgan was content to pass the morning grilling her.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

Unenthusiastic, she answered, “Beth Wallers.”

“And mine?”

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