Free Old-Fashioned Values by Emily Tilton

thing.”
    “What, then?”
    “Rachel—that’s the one Sally wants to meet you—and Sally have this other roommate, who thinks Sally’s in danger of being abused by me. Rachel’s on Sally’s side, mostly, but Sally really wants to help Rachel understand why loving discipline is a good thing, at least for her. I told them that you would probably be glad to try.”
    “Absolutely, Mark,” John said.
     
    * * *
     
    John was sitting by himself at a table in the café when they came in. He saw Mark, and could instantly tell that it must be Sally who held his hand the way a sub holds her master’s hand when they enter a dungeon. She kept herself a half pace behind him without, John thought, even realizing that she did it. She looked at Mark to see whether he saw John, and the look in her very, very pretty eyes was of adoration.
    I knew you could do it, Mark Weaver, John thought, letting his bosom swell with pride just a bit.
    And the curvy, dark-haired girl must be Rachel. Whoops . Rachel was most definitely his type, and she was most definitely a sub, and she was most definitely very, very young.
    How did John know that Rachel was a sub? He couldn’t say for sure, beyond the way that she held her arms clasped across her chest, as it to proffer her sizable breasts to the man who knew what to do with her. There was something in the way she looked around the café, maybe. And that must be because Mark had told her about John, and Rachel knew that John might be in the café. Sally might not think that introducing Rachel to John Gammon could lead to anything, but John knew immediately that if he let it, it would.
    John had always had a weakness for girls who grew into their curves when they were still young women. Though Carol had passed thirty when he met her, she had also had the air of a girl who wasn’t sure about being a woman yet; a girl who searched for a guide to teach her about what adulthood, and adult relationships, entailed. If you took Carol’s dissonant ingenuousness—the little girl peering out from the woman’s face—and multiplied it by ten and took ten years off it, you would have Rachel.
    John waved, and the three of them came over to the table. John stood up and gave Mark a hug, which startled him a bit, but really John felt so happy for the young man that he couldn’t resist, and he didn’t want to—especially because he got to see Sally’s own startled reaction. It helped him gauge what she had heard about him, and the unusual influence he, John, had had on her life without having ever met her before.
    He shook her hand gently and said, “It’s very nice to meet you,” resisting the temptation to say something more, like, “You seem a very well-behaved young lady.”
    Then he shook Rachel’s hand, careful to keep his face entirely neutral, still completely undecided whether at the end of this coffee he would get her number or not. “Nice to meet you, too,” he said. Then he said to all of them, “What are you having?”
    Mark said, “Oh, you don’t have to do that, John.” He betrayed not the slightest hint on his face of what John knew to be the truth, that buying coffee even for himself and Sally, let alone—which John was sure he would have done if John had let him—for Rachel and John, would have represented a serious expenditure for him.
    “Nonsense. I claim the privilege of age,” John said.
    “Thanks,” Mark said, his real gratitude shining out in his smile.
    When John had brought them all their desired coffee (espresso for Mark, lattes for the girls), and when he had sat down, he exercised the privileges both of age and of didactic experience and said, “So, we’re here to talk about what I call loving discipline.” The girls’ eyes widened at his frankness. Mark smiled slightly, and just a little uncomfortably.
    “I have a feeling,” John continued, “that part of the problem, such as it is, is that you girls think that being spanked as a grownup is something