Thursday, July 9, 2015

Red Bottoms Espresso - Hannah's Training - Chapter 7

Come home.

The terse message balled her stomach into a hard knot as she read it on the online site her mother used to contact her.   The two words were a command, not an invitation.  It must mean that HE wouldn’t be there.  On the day Hannah had moved out for good, she had screamed at her mother that she would never be coming back as long as her stepfather was in the apartment.  Her mother had taken off her shoe and thrown it at her in response, and only missed Hannah’s head because she was drunk.  

Hannah sighed.  She was back on her couch in Renee’s apartment.  It was Tuesday afternoon, and she had survived her first two days of training at the coffee stand.  She jolted as her memory triggered the sensation of red-hot stinging pain across her ass cheeks, making her grimace.  He had not spared the spankings today, either, and she wondered if his goal was to give her butt a shade of perma-red, like the face of an alcoholic who spent too much time in the sun.

There was no way she was going over there.  Yet, on the other hand, she missed her mother, in spite of everything else that had happened over the last year.  Her Mom couldn’t handle men, alcohol, or money (the order varied), and she kept her home like she was auditioning for one of those shows where people lived with their trash and three hundred cats.  Well, it wasn’t quite that bad, but Hannah could never figure out why her mother didn’t cook or clean for herself.  She had taken it on herself to help clean and organize the apartment when she could, but she finally stopped when her mother had come unglued after Hannah had recycled a stack of magazines that had been sitting on the table for as long as Hannah could remember.

Hannah had been twelve when the Great Recession hit.  Money that had been tight went to non-existent.  Any hopes or dreams her mother had seemed to dry up, replaced with bitterness and remorse.  Hannah soon learned not to bring home anything from school that might cost her mother money.  That’s when the real drinking had started, too.  

“Uhchh,” she said in frustration.  She closed her laptop and slipped her legs out of the warm sleeping bag.  Time for a smoke.  She felt the twinge of guilt that alerted her to the fact that she hadn’t quite disclosed her habit to Daddy, but she dismissed it easily.  She smoked a maximum of ten cigarettes a day, which was only half a pack.   She pulled her boots onto her feet at the couch, and then stood up and pulled on her jacket.  She closed her eyes as she pulled her hood up over her head, and Daddy was there, reading the rules of conduct to her in her mind.

No swearing or inappropriate language.

No tardiness.

No smoking.

“Mmm!”  She stamped her foot as she opened her eyes to get him out of her head.  Her lighter and the precious red pack were in her pocket already - she walked out of the apartment without locking the door.  It was three flights down to the parking lot through the cold December air, and then she was walking across the dark asphalt to her car through the grey gloom of the afternoon.  She always parked in her special spot that was as far away from the buildings of the apartment complex as possible.  This spot was right next to the greenbelt that lined the property.  It had a fence that was supposed to keep people out that had been mostly torn down, so it was easy to slip into the forest and have a cigarette in complete privacy, which was the only way she liked to smoke.  

Smoking was a religion to her.  She loved the feeling of the nicotine rush as it flooded her brain with relief when it had been too long since her last.  She paid her tithes faithfully to the convenience store that charged her eight bucks a pack.  She knew it was wrong, but she also knew that no one would ever take smoking away from her.  It was the one thing that was always there for her, no matter what, and the one thing she could do “for herself, by herself,” which was how she had come to label it.  Smoking was her thing, and no one even knew she did it.

She stopped when she got to her car and paused, as if she was going to get in.  She discreetly checked around her, but as usual, not a soul was in sight in the huge parking lot.  She turned and stepped over the fence on the ground, and walked into the trees that lined the fence.  She stopped after walking only five feet, as she was immediately hidden from view.  She fished a smoke out of her pack and lit it, inhaling deeply.  

Ahhhh, she thought blissfully.  That’s better.  She blew the smoke out in a huge cloud that combined with the mist from her warm breath and floated through the trees like its own fog bank.  She considered her mother’s invitation.  It was a mistake to go over there.  Her Mom would make some kind of microwave dinner or a frozen pizza, and then drink herself stupid in front of her.  She knew her mother felt relief when she was there, like maybe she wasn’t the worst mom in the world after all.  At the height of her drunk, her mother would break down and cry about how sorry she was that Hannah “had to leave,” as if Hannah had chosen to.  She would end up having to help her mother get into bed, and then Hannah would stay the night, as he wasn’t expected home from his Vegas card tournament for another day.

Fuck.  What to do, what to do.  She drew hard on the last of her cigarette and then dropped the butt into the hole she had dug her first trip to this side of the fence.  She stamped it with her foot to make sure it was out, and then covered the hole with some dirt with her foot.  Evidence removed, she thought.  She walked forward along the fence on a path that wound its way through the trees.  She was totally invisible to anyone in the parking lot as she walked to the far end, carefully picking her way over roots and brush.  She paused at the hole in the fence that had been made on this side of the lot, and then stepped through the gap in the chain link fence. If anyone had been watching the far corner of the parking lot, they might have seen her appear as if magically from the trees, but she knew no one was watching.  This was her favorite trick.  If anyone ever attacked her in her car, she could duck out the passenger side door, run along the path, and be back in the apartment calling 911 before the dude could say, “WTF…?”

Back inside, she shrugged out of her jacket and slid her boots off, and then sat down with her laptop.  Her mother’s message stared her in the face when she opened the screen.  She sighed.  She thought of the frozen pizza she had waiting for her in her own freezer.  Renee was out all evening at some recital thing, and wouldn’t be back until at least 11:00.  She impulsively tapped on her keyboard and hit enter.


Dan leaned back in his office chair, interlaced his fingers over his desk, and cracked his knuckles.  It was the 4 PM lull, and the stand was temporarily idle.  He had been checking the bank account for his company, RBE Construction, which owned the property on this lonely corner of the highway.  He had founded the company in 2008, after being fired from the company he had worked at for five years.

Construction projects stopped during the recession.  Huge housing developments sat unfinished in the rain for years, waiting for money to come back.  His former boss had laughed in his face when he said he would start his own contractor business, telling Dan that even if he had saved enough money, there weren’t any jobs to do.  Dan had held his tongue.  He had an answer for both points, which he didn’t feel like sharing with the jerk that had just taken so much pleasure in firing Dan a week before Christmas.  He had saved enough money.  Plenty.  And as for jobs to do, he was pretty sure he had that covered too.

For reasons no one understood, Western Washington allowed “bikini barista” coffee stands, where the female workers were allowed to wear bathing suits (or less) to serve coffee.  News stories occasionally surfaced of girls getting busted for going topless, or showing an undercover cop the goods for a tip.  Dan’s plan was simple: Build the best bikini coffee stand in the world, and put some girls to work.  Two things that would always be recession-proof were coffee and sex.  Put them together, and he was sure to keep his head above water. Yet, because of his dominant nature, and a chance reading of a blog post on about how to spank your wife, he had an additional angle that he was sure no one would attempt to imitate.

Dan spanked his girls.  Not the cheesy patty-cake spanking you might see in a soft-core porn, either: He gave each spanking his full attention.  The guys loved it, of course, and came from miles around to see the novelty of a girl with a bright red ass who had just been spanked by her Daddy.  In the early days, he wouldn’t even let the girls talk to their customers about the spanking in case of legal trouble.  He was sure the non-disclosure agreement he had each of them sign would hold up, but he adhered to the Japanese proverb:  The nail that sticks up will be hammered down.  Dan went out of his way to stay out of the spotlight.  He was not in this for fame, and felt that being noticed would detract from the business.

The whole thing would have fallen down the same day he started it, except for the reasons he disciplined his workers.  He was a true dominant, and a strong alpha male.  When he had a girl over his knee, he spanked her as a stern, loving father.  He expected the girls to behave like his girls and call him Daddy.  Like any proud father, he loved watching the girls become successful - happy in their relationships, and in one case at the moment, leaving to attain her ultimate dream of going to college.

Business had boomed.  And then, very unexpectedly, people starting contacting him to build coffee stands.  His design was perfect for the job - he used strong storm windows in the glass, built-in radiant heat in the floor, and a hundred other touches that had everything to do with protecting and providing a very comfortable work environment for the girls, while also giving the customers the best show in town.

There was a knock at his door.  “Come in,” Dan called out.  The door opened, and his employee Mike stood in the doorway.

“Hey Boss, I’m going to knock off for the day,” he said.  

“OK,” Dan said.  I’m heading out too.”  He stood, leaving the laptop on his desk, and walked across the office to the doorway.  The younger man was an inch shorter than Dan, with a mane of white hair that seemed to have a life of its own.  He was also the strongest person Dan had ever known, and possibly the shyest.   He had met Mike over Craigslist when he had started building stands for other business owners, and he liked him right away.  Mike seemed to intuitively understand the business, and why Dan ran it the way he did.  They never talked about the spankings, but Mike knew the girls were getting them.  Mike did most of the building for the new construction projects, and kept to himself.

They walked into the parking lot together, as the sun hit the horizon in a weak orange ball.  The clouds had parted briefly for the sunset, but more grey, freezing weather was on the way.  They stopped at their respective vehicles.

“I’d like to take next week off,” Mike said.  “Gonna head down to California to see my bro.”

“Sounds good to me,” Dan said.  “Hopefully it’s a little warmer down there.”

Mike grinned in response, his white teeth flashing in his clean-shaven face.

“Here’s hopin’!”


  1. Hi DH, thank you for sharing another chapter of your book. I enjoyed reading this and learning more about how Dan started the business, especially how he came up with the spanking angle :)


    1. Hi Roz! Thank you! Yeah, Dan has some dark family history that drives him in this direction. Dan the Man, lol. :)


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