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that?” I rubbed my backside and the tops of my legs. “Fucking hurt.”
    “You’re a bad boy and bad boys get spanked.” He too got off the bed. His erection, like mine, had diminished, proof if proof were needed that the slaps had not been sexually motivated.
    “There was no need to be so harsh. I was only funning with you.”
    “You were pushing the envelope by way of venting spleen over the booze rule again. I’m bloody tired of it.”
    We observed each other in silence for a few moments. I dropped my gaze first, folding my arms across my chest. “You’re getting as bad as Shane for being a brute.”
    “Yes, well, Shane is right. I’ve spoilt and indulged you for too long. You need hard handling to put you in your place and keep you there. I’ve never met anyone as wilful as you are. You, my chicken, are too fond of trying to rule the roost in this house.”
    I risked a peep at his face. The look on his face reminded me of the one Shane often wore around me. I lowered my eyes again. “I’m getting on your nerves aren’t I?”
    “Yes, you are rather.”
    “Shame we’re not legal. You could divorce me on the grounds of my unreasonable behaviour. When do you want me to move out?”
    “There you go again, pushing.”
    “Sorry, bad habit.” I stooped to pick my pyjama shorts up off the floor.
    “You need to keep your mouth under control.” His mobile rang from the bedside cabinet and he moved to pick it up. Before taking the call he issued a sharp instruction for me to go make a start on breakfast.
    I strode out of the room, slipping into the main bathroom to inspect my bottom using the shaving mirror in there. It was marked, my bum that is. He’d smacked hard enough to break capillaries under the skin in one or two places, leaving small hickey like bruises. I felt dreadful, but not on their account. They were superficial and would fade before the end of the day. I was embarrassed because I’d annoyed him. He lost patience with me far more often than he used to.
    Pulling on my sleep shorts I went downstairs. I splashed water on my face at the kitchen sink. I dried myself using a tea towel, pressing it to my eyes to soak up the tears of self-pity that insisted on leaking out. Feeling vulnerable in only my pyjama bottoms I decided to get dressed. Going into the utility room, I pulled clean underpants, socks, jeans and a top from the clean laundry basket. Bugger ironing. The creases would soon drop out.
    I made a pot of tea and put it on the kitchen table ready for when Dick came down. It wouldn’t matter if it brewed a while. He liked it strong. There was cereal on the table for him to help himself to. I made some toast and racked it. I ate half a slice and gulped down a small glass of milk by way of my own breakfast.
    I had no intention of sticking round to eat with Dick, or in fact sticking around at all. The house was still a tip from the night before, but it could wait. I’d do it later, and the same with showering and shaving. Stuff it. I didn’t exactly get Desperate Dan style beard growth. I could neglect shaving for a week and still not have anything other than stubble, unlike Shane. He can grow a moustache and beard in his lunch hour. It’s probably an age related thing. Dick can also grow a fair beard in a matter of days. When I hit my thirties I’ll probably start sprouting facial hair like a lycanthrope under a full moon. I’ll have to shave with a lawnmower.
    Dick and I met on the stairs. He was wearing a bathrobe and looked surprised to see me dressed.
    “Where are you going?”
    “Out. I’ve got presents to drop off. Breakfast is on the table. I’ve had mine. Go get your tea before it goes cold.” I ran up the rest of the stairs without looking back at him. In the bedroom I shoved on my trainers and gathered up my wallet, phone and house keys. I grabbed a jacket from my rail in the walk-in closet and put it on. I then picked up the carrier bag of Christmas gifts I’d wrapped a