Mother gets a whipping

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Lola Mitchell drove home with a big smile on her face. She had managed to get an appointment at the beauty parlor, and she could see the scene now. She'd slide in through the back door, creep into the main room where Flint would be sitting in his favorite chair, reading the newspaper. She'd sneak up behind him, put her hands over his eyes and say, "Guess who?"

Lola sighed with happiness as she swung the car off the freeway. It was so wonderful being engaged to a policeman. Flint was so tail and commanding and just perfect. And he never bothered her with sexual demands.

He was even wonderful with her daughter, Yvette. Yvette needed a father, she'd been wild and undisciplined until Flint came along. Now she was much better behaved. She shivered when she thought of Yvette's father. Some men were so disgusting sometimes. But not Flint, of course.

She parked the car, then checked her reflection in the mirror, making sure she looked as beautiful as she could. She might be just over thirty years old, but her face still said she was early twenties.

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