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Listening to his competition.
Phil was genuinely surprised at that, "How did you see it from that angle?"
"At one point I got up and took a little walk to the left side of the stage."
Phil figured this must have happened when he was distracted by the material on his "big board." His production staff had compiled a list of dueling e-mails between Matilda and Annette, and he had been trying to pick through the maze of contradictory statements.
He said, "Okay, you know what kind of underpants they had on. So what?"
"I was looking at you too. You were pretty shameless, you were blatantly ogling their swaths of jiggling vulvas."
He had a hard time keeping a straight face with the silliness of her wording. She, however, seemed to maintain her frame, "As you are always saying Phil, actions have consequences and it's time to feel those consequences."
"Let's be reasonable about this . . ."
"No let's get serious about this. First thing is, take that ruler out of your desk. The wooden one, the full eighteen inches."
Making an elaborate show of submission, Phil removed it from his desk drawer. It was labeled "Fort Worth Board of Education" on the obverse side. He had had it for years but he could no longer remember how he had gotten it.
Robin said, "You know the drill. Take your jacket off and come over here."
One side of the office had a straight-backed, armless chair that mostly served as Phil's "spanking chair." Robin herself had often felt Phil release "a can of whoop-ass" one her while on that chair, as well as on the sofa, the desk, in one of their cars and various other places they picked. As he sometimes said, what's sauce for the goose, etc.
Tonight Phil was the partner in trouble. Robin sat down and continued issuing instructions, "All right give me the ruler. Take your jacket off and leave it on the sofa. Now lower your trousers; I think you already know the rest.
She looked very stern and prim sitting there, which aroused Phil. Her blue jacket and skirt ensemble plus her white blouse made him think of a school teacher or church lady. Before he placed himself across her lap she said, "Give me the ruler, please; that's for the second part of this particular show."
As he placed himself in position Robin slid the ruler under his shirt where she could easily retrieve it. Then she began lecturing him. Phil often wondered how much of these speeches had been memorized before hand and how much she just made up on the fly.
"Now, Mister Phil, I don't care how high and mighty you've become on your own show, it's completely unacceptable for you to be gazing at the pudenda of these female guests of yours."
He almost chuckled at the word "pudenda" which seemed a rather pretentious way of describing that part of the anatomy. He began his faux denials, "Please Robin, I already said there is nothing I could do . . ."
"Quiet please, you already gave your lame excuses, which I simply don't accept. I know you have to have a parade of whores, sluts, nymphos and drug-addled coeds on in order to make a living. Thus it is all-the-more important that you exercise self-restraint."
"Yes, dear, I know . . ."
"Don't interrupt me. Now as you know, in our family we practice a tough but loving Christian domestic discipline."
Phil knew from his own experiences and from the testimony of innumerable guests how much weird behavior got covered up under the rubric of religious duty.
Robin continued, "Therefore, since you have been a naughty husband it's my duty as a loyal wife to take down your drawers and punish you on your bare backside." Phil was impressed how she could mix ridiculousness and solemnity so well in a single sentence.
"Sweet-pie, is this really necessary?"
"Don't 'sweetie-pie' me, you horny old rogue." As she talked she yanked Phil's underpants to his knees. He enjoyed the feel of the cooled air on his body and the knowledge that Robin's appraising gaze was on him.
She said, "I'm going to hand spank you to start with.