Page 18 of Morsel

“You can come out,” he says. “I know you’re there.”

8

Oscar

How the hell did she think she was going to sneak by me?

Is she being serious right now?

Dolly doesn’t make a move, though. She stays where she is, just out of sight, and she waits.

“Dolly.”

Silence.

“I’m going to count to three, Dolly.” I can’t believe I’m pulling this out. “If you don’t come here by then, you won’t like what happens.”

“What?”

There we go.

“I’ve got your attention,” I say.

“You can’t count to three on me. I’m not a kid.”

“One.”

“Oscar!”

“Two.”

Silence.

“Three.”

I move as I say the word. I slide around the corner, grab her hair, and tug. Dolly cries out, but we both know I’m not really hurting her.

“What are you doing?”

“I gave you an option,” I say. “You chose not to take it.”

“But Oscar!”

I have no interest in arguing with a petulant brat, so I haul her to my dining room table, pull out a chair, and sit. I yank her over my lap. She lands hard.

“What the fuck? Oscar, this is so messed up. You can’t really be planning on spanking me!”

“Oh, but I am.”

I stare at her ass.

“You look good in my clothes.”

“Look, I’m sorry about the clothes,” she says.

“You aren’t, but you will be.”

“I am! I am sorry!”

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