The smell of coffee, fresh toast and music from the radio filled the air. It was morning and the bright rays of the sun shone onto the kitchen table. Just as the mist had lifted from the streets outside Katie slowly came to realise what had happened. The whole incident still felt unreal to her. She sat now at the table, a mug of steaming coffee in front of her and stared dead into its black content. Her husband was dressed in his usual suit he wore to his office and prepared some eggs on the stove. nnIt was a small kitchen in a small house. They didn't have had much money when they got married right after graduating from college. It was one nightmare for her. The baby, the house, the marriage and the life as a mother and housewife; it wasn't something she had planned for. nnHer now 4 year old daughter came screaming into the kitchen. The bacon and eggs sizzled, the music had given way to news, her husband was shouting and Katie just sat and continued to stare into her mug. nnThe white linoleum floor was covered with spots marking each one of her cooking experiments and the rampage her little kid caused from time to time. Crayon marks were all over the wall, bills and other paper work lay spread out on the small table that was set at the one end of the kitchen.nn"Katie?" her husband called her. But she didn't react. nnHer daughter pulled at her faded blue bathrobe.nn"Mommy! Pancooks…Pancooks.

Note: This story is the fourth episode in a series entitled "April's Story". If you have not read the previous three episodes of this series, I encourage you do so before beginning this chapter.nnThis is a dominant wife humiliates submissive husband story. That is the kind of story I write. If you do not enjoy these types of stories, I strongly recommend that you look for something else to read.nn*nnPonce and I spent the afternoon together. We had a wonderful time. Our first stop was my dorm. The girls on the floor flocked to my room. Like Danny, Ponce was another heartthrob for many of the young women at Kelroy. nnI packed a gym bag with shorts, shoes, a sports bra, a t shirt, a towel, a bar of soap and clean underwear to put on after the game. nnAs we were leaving the dorm I turned to Ponce. "Every girl in this dormitory wants to go out with you. Just say the word and I'll start setting you up with dates." I poked him in the ribs. "If he wants to, my big boy could become a real pussyman." nnPonce blushed. For the rest of the afternoon, whenever we were alone I called him my "pussyman." nnOur next stop was the grill. Ponce bought a tuna fish sandwich and a Coke for both of us.

I knew this man for several years. He was always nice to my friends and me when he first moved in. I don't know how old he really was, but he was not that old, not compared to my parents.nnI graduated from high school and went off to college. In that time, my roommates and I would come home each year for his Halloween parties. He was always funny in all the costumes he and his wife Jeannie would wear. This year was no exception.nnShe liked me a lot also and when Bales, what we always called him, and she threw their parties, you could always expect some surprises. This year was no exception.nnThis year he dressed up in an outfit and called himself "Underwear Man". Wearing long johns underneath and bright, tight red undies over them, he looked perfect. Also, he wore a cape. nnHe emblazoned a large red 'U' on his T-shirt with a circle around it. What was the running joke behind this? Thinking that it was a friend he was going to moon, he mooned the friend's wife. She got to see his fine ass up against the window and he thought it was his friend Rob. Only a few of us really knew what happened and all Jeannie would say is "Wouldn't you all like to know"?nnMy roommates, who didn't know anyone, kept their thoughts to themselves at first. Now before I get ahead of myself, I am 22 and about to graduate along with my roommates from college.nnI, like my roomies, have had our fair share of crazy raw and wild parties okay.

Evil sometimes wears a pleasant face I have found. nnI strolled across the smoking car to the bar where the woman behind the bar smiled at me, her gold incisor gleaming from her mahogany face. She could have been any age, I suppose, from thirty to seventy. I'd seen her before, but not on every turn. She was polishing immaculately clear heavy tumblers, each with the etched RR symbol and the flutes at the bottom. nn"Your usual smoke, Mr. Richard?" nn"That would be very nice, Francine, thank you." Without waiting for me to reach the polished maple of the surface, she placed the humidor down and flipped back the lid. I smiled back and liberated three of Havana's best tobacco, long, dark, and deliciously aromatic, from their moist protective prison and inserted two of them into my stiff leather case, igniting the third from the match Francine that was holding.nnSometimes I amused my self by pretending that different members of the crew had developed deeper personal relationships than apparent, but seldom was the case. Francine and George were the exception that proved the rule. They had been married and divorced to each other three times.nnPropping my elbow on the bar and leaning back, sipped the sweet heady drink and turned to survey the car. The smoke was layered through the car and the scent of cigars mixed with stale beer oozed from the hard wood walls and the stamped tin ceilings. I dipped the tip of my cigar into my drink and drew another mouthful of the thick richness in, to allow it to flow out through my nose. nnThere were the usual and expected; salesmen, stockmen, a couple of military officers, a man of leisure. My curiosity became piqued when I noticed what I assumed from their complexion were two Indians. These were not turban wearing Sykes but neither were they Cherokee, Lakota, Navaho or any other native nation. While seeing Indians in the smoking car was a first, seeing them dressed in formal European attire was so unusual I caught myself staring and jerked my eyes away, but not before one noticed.