Turning Eighteen, Part Seven

I was glad to get out of the restaurant. The food was decent, but I could’ve made it better. Besides, I was hungry for something else.I got a taste of that when we got home. We’d barely taken our coats off before Mr. Mendes grabbed me by the collar and pulled me up against him. I laughed as I put my arms around him and opened up my mouth to him. We both tasted like peanut curry, but neither of us cared.I felt his hand massage my ass as I began to kiss his neck. “I was real good at the restaurant,” I whispered in between sharp little bites to his skin.“Yeah, you were,” he agreed, giving my ass a pinch. “I’d say you’ve earned a treat for your birthday.”He broke apart from me then and grabbed my arm. Next thing I knew he was pulling me into the kitchen toward a straight backed chair.My stomach started doing somersaults. This was it. He wasn’t just going to bend me over a counter this time. This time he was going to put me over his knee.I didn’t resist when he sat down and jerked me over his lap. And I caught my breath when he pressed down on the small of my back to hold me in place. But that’s when I realized that something was wrong. In my fantasies, my jeans and boxers were always down around my ankles. I opened my mouth to tell him to wait, but his hand came down for the first smack.I gasped. Not because of any pain—I felt the blow, but it didn’t hurt through my jeans. But it’s hard to describe. Having my jeans on made me feel more like a little kid somehow. It was like I was a five year old who had gotten on his Mom’s last nerve. I could even remember my Mom smacking my butt in the supermarket when I was throwing a temper tantrum. I don't know if that memory was real or not, though.“That’s one,” Mr. Mendes said.I grinned despite myself. Ok, I could deal with the ‘little kid’ feeling.His hand came down again, harder this time. “That’s two,” he said.I could feel each smack more and more as he kept going. It was like my jeans were somehow getting thinner and thinner. It was a weird effect, because I could still feel where he had spanked me with the spoon earlier. Pretty soon my ass felt hot and sore, but it didn’t hurt—not exactly. It’s hard to describe.“That’s eighteen,” Mr. Mendes said at last. “And there’s one for good luck,” he said with another blow, “and one to grow on,” he finished, bringing his hand down more gently that last time.I was grinning from ear to ear by now. I tried to get up, but he kept one hand pressed on my back.“What do you say?” he asked.I rolled my eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Mendes.”He laughed and let me up. “Mr. Mendes?” he repeated as he stood up himself and put the chair back in place. “I think it’s time you called me ‘Aaron,’ don’t you?”My face turned bright red. I could’ve kicked myself right then. All this time, I’d been reminding myself to think of him as ‘Aaron.’ And I’d gotten through this much of the day without calling him by name. But when the moment came I fucked it up. He didn’t look offended though—I think he thought it was cute. God, that was annoying.“Aaron,” I said, tasting the name.He smiled at me—a damn sexy smile. There are times when he almost looks hot. He can’t compete with me, but still…“I like the sound of that on your lips,” he said softly, bringing his hand up to my cheek.We stood there for a long moment, just staring at each other.“Why don’t you go call your aunt?” he asked.I snapped back to the present. Oh yeah—I’d promised to call my aunt so that someone in my family knew how to reach me.I managed a nod and went to his phone. I stared at it for a while, though. I’d have to explain stuff to her. I could lie and tell her that I was just crashing with Mr. Mendes for a while—but I didn’t want to do that. I was eighteen now. I didn’t want to live in the closet anymore.I sighed and picked up the phone.