~FAILING IN REVERSE~ (spanking story)

Chapter 12: Recovery Part 2

"I don't even know which ice cream place."

"Irrelevant. This is a guessing game. If you knew the ice cream place, you could just look up the menu. That would be cheating."

"If I had my phone, that is, which I don't," You say with a scowl. Then you sit in thought, and after a beat, you ask, "Do you think Kamilla's okay? She was—"

"Goddamn it. Shut up. She's fine," Ben snaps tiredly and flips on the radio, obviously upset about that. Kamilla seems to be the biggest thing he's sensitive about, which does make sense since they are, like, married. You probably would hate marriage, seeing how much trouble they cause for each other, and how shitty your own parents were to each other.

At the man's frustration, you cross your arms as a kind of self hug. You're really not feeling very loved right now. Like, you just rather'd go home at this point. It was just a fucking question. So much for his sermons about love.

Then Ben shuts the radio off. "I'm sorry I yelled. She'll be alright, kiddo. She always is. We always are. Couples argue. And this thing that happened tonight between us barely constitutes an argument. We're competitive with each other, if you couldn't tell," he says with a weak chuckle. "We've had way worse. Then we make up, do the whole apology thing, and move on."

This does not comfort you, and he taps your thigh, insisting, "Don't worry about us. We will worry about us, okay?" When you still don't answer, he squeezes your knee. "Okay? Let's have fun."

You sigh. "Fine. When will we be there?"

He sighs too. "We're here." And this is when he turns into a small parking lot, empty, which is weird for supper time. People love ice cream around now, right? Oh well. It'll at least be quiet.

The man helps you out of your seat, figuring you'd be pretty sore from Kamilla's spanking, and tired from only getting two hours of sleep. He basically half-carries you into the light blue and white checkered brick building. Looks to be right out of a cartoon set from the 50's. Very whimsical.

He gives you a droopy yet reassuring smile as you approach the glass with all the flavors. There's even one called rainbow, where all the fruit flavors seem to combine. "What are you hankering for?" He questions, putting an arm around your shoulders. You want to shrivel from his grasp out of your usual spite, however, you really have no fight in you anymore.

You gaze at the other options, but you are rather indecisive, so you go for the safe rainbow option. Suddenly very shy, you look at the plump old lady at the register. "Rainbow please," you say, just above a whisper.

"You okay, lad?" She questions. "I didn't quite hear you."

Ben squeezes your shoulders. "He's just fine. Come on, little louder."

He playfully nudges you, and you say it just a smidge louder, not wanting to test his patience.

The lady parts her rosy lips wide, showing red lipstick that had smeared on her teeth. Ben gently smiles back and points to hint about it. Of course he would. He's Ben. The woman takes out her pocket mirror (because of course she has a pocket mirror) and promptly rubs it off with a napkin. "Thank you, mister. That was valiant of you. I know too many people who would ignore it, and I would be way worse for wear when I spot it myself later on, knowing all my customers witnessed my faux pas." She gleams at him like he's some fucking heroic saint.

Ben widens his gaze at you "valiantly," as if to say, "See? I'm not all bad."

Then he says to the clerk while letting go of you, pretending to shrug off the compliment, as if it did NOT just inflate his already big ass ego, "No worries. I would appreciate it if people did it for me. Um, can I have cherry?"