Parts of the old house were wired for electricity, and parts weren't, as if his father thought that it was some sort of a fad or something. So their bedside lamps were still kerosene. "You didn't really think that that was going to be the end of this... discussion, did you?" He asked rhetorically, his eyebrow up. Nola frowned darkly. "I had hoped." Brandon arranged himself on the bed, leaning back against a pile of pillows, saying, "Hand me your hairbrush, please, Nola." The ogre was back. The phrase flitted through her head as she did as she was told, knowing all too well the consequences of not obeying him when he was like this. He took the big brush from her and used his other hand to tug her over his lap, reaching across her waist to hold her far hip tightly, so that she couldn't go anywhere, or reach back and protect what would very soon be her poor, sore bottom. "Now," he began sternly. "We are going to have a talk, you and I, about making plans to leave your poor husband for a weekend without so much as consulting him." He gave her five hard swats before he continued.
