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Maureen had been stuck on the zigzagging Woronora Bridge western approaches for an hour, in a council car which David had noticed was still missing. David found her because he rode the Norton along the pedestrian footpath down the eastern winding approaches then along the footpath across the rickety bridge, only just missing anglers. They left the Council car parked beside the bait and general store at the west end of the bridge, again traversed the bridge on the pedestrian walkway and against the traffic direction, closely missing the fishermen again and avoiding the temporary traffic lights that had been there for over thirty years, in one form of technology or other. The timber planked bridge was a fifty years older than that again, constructed something like 1917. It had much in common with grandfather's axe. (Grandfather owned an axe, the best axe he had ever had. Over the years he had replaced the handle a dozen times and the head twice and it was still the best axe he had ever. Betty turned again and looked down at the chair. I stood behind her and said in a stern voice “you will not try to get up because if you do it will be two extra strokes, each time. Understood Betty?” “Yes Chloe” she answered quietly, but respectfully I gauged. Well, I suppose you would if you knew you were about to be caned. Pissing off the disciplinarian isn’t good practice is it I thought, smiling. I swished the cane twice to help gauge the strength of the stroke I should use. Happy, I tapped her bottom a couple of times. Betty caught her breath. “Ready?” I asked. “Yes” Betty replied. I gave her bottom a serious stare. It looked so soft, so beckoning. I saw the spots of cellulite at the tops of her legs and smiled. I hadn’t seen that before. My Mother in Law definitely kept that hidden from view, but now it was so different. Now she was naked below the waist and her bare bottom was staring at me, welcoming my attention, or maybe frozen.
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