Southern comfort and coke  or He's all wet 
by MBP  MWFAN318@aol.com 
The civil war is revisited.


Dixie Montgomery basked in the sunshine by Big Mill lake, her long, loose
light-brown hair fluttering in the gentle summer breeze. She alternately
raised and lowered her bare feet into the cool, still water, occasionally
splashing herself. Dixie's short sun dress displayed her slender, shapely legs
as she luxuriated in the perfect day.

Hidden 30 yards away behind a pair of Sycamore trees, Mark Stern watched the
20-year- old enjoying her life. He had only been spying for a few seconds,
having been directed to the spot by Dixie's mom. Mark hadn't been with a girl
for several weeks, as the rehabilitation clinic frowned on that sort of thing.
He left his hiding place and approached the lovely woman.

Dixie sensed, rather than saw Mark moving towards her. She turned her head to
face him, but otherwise remained in her position. Dixie saw a dark-haired
18-year-old, slim but solid, and very handsome. From her vantage point it was
difficult to gauge his height, but she judged Mark to be about 6 feet tall.
The young man grinned as he neared Dixie, but said nothing. She rose to her
full height, still 6 inches shorter than Mark, and offered her hand.

"Hi, you must be Mark. I'm Dixie," she said, knowing already that he knew her
name. Mark said nothing, ignored her hand, and looked her up and down. Dixie
turned from his leer, and bounced on bare feet away, putting some distance
between them. Mark moved quickly towards her and put his rough hands onto her
slender waist. He attempted to pull her against him, but Dixie smoothly
disentangled herself, spinning to face the rude man.

"Relax, sugar," Dixie cooed in her breathless, sexy voice. "I'm not that kind
of southern belle." In response, Mark moved to ensnare the lithe woman, but
Dixie dodged away, the sexy smile still on her face. The little dance
continued, Mark getting redder and redder, as Dixie's maddening smile widened.

"It's supper time at our little ol' house," Dixie said. "We always eat at 3:00
on Sundays. Let's go. Daddy's a gorilla when he eats late." As she turned to
head home, Mark grabbed her arm, intending on a bearhug. She reacted
instantly, capturing and turning his wrist, and then pulling his right arm
high up his back. Mark yelped, the first sound he had uttered in Dixie's
presence, and struggled unsuccessfully to extricate himself. Dixie stood on
her tiptoes, and whispered into the young man's ear.

"If I let you go, do you promise to be a good, little boy?" This only pushed
Mark to work harder, but the slim woman kept her hold on the taller, heavier
man. "C'mon, sonny, say auntie, and we can go enjoy some fine southern
cookin'." Mark merely nodded. Dixie took this as a sign of submission. After
releasing him, Dixie was about to head up the trail to the house, but Mark
moved to block her path. Dixie sighed.

"Y'all remember what it felt like with your arm up your back," warned Dixie.
Mark charged at her. Dixie fell back, grabbed his hands, stuck one of her
pretty, bare feet into his stomach, and threw him over her to the ground.
Dixie didn't follow up, just stood there waiting expectantly. The hard fall
momentarily stunned the New Yorker, and he got up groggily. Dixie reached up,
wrapped her arms around Mark's head and said "maybe a swim will cool you
down." She dragged the young man to the waterfront and threw him over her
shoulder into Big Mill.

"You know the way. See you at supper," Dixie called out as she jogged up the
path to the estate.

Clay Montgomery regarded his wet house guest. "Boy, what happened to you?" he
asked as Mark sloshed to the front door of the large plantation.

"I took a dip," Mark stammered. He could think of nothing else to say.

"With your clothes on? Are you stupid, boy?"

"I got hot and had nothing to change into," said Mark, regaining some of his
composure. "It was refreshing."

"Did you run into Dixie there," asked Clay. Mark thought it was an interesting
choice of words.

"No, sir. She must have been in a different spot."

"Well, go change for dinner, and we'll do proper introductions." Clay spun on
his heel and headed outside, where a large table stood brimming with delicious
food.

"This is my daughter, Dixie," said Clay as he began the introductions. For her
part, Dixie showed no sign of recognition and curtseyed prettily. Relieved,
Mark bowed deeply to the sexy, young woman. Now at her eye level, Mark could
see the amusement dancing in her hazel eyes. Clay continued, "You've already
met my wife Betty Jean. This is my son Jeb," pointing at a freckle-faced
12-year-old. "And this is our baby, Daisy." The 9-year- old smiled at him,
missing one of her front teeth. "Everybody, this is Mark Stern from New Yawk.
He's staying with us for a spell." A collection of hi y'all reverberated
around the table.

As Mark partook of the superb meal, his mind wandered to what led to this
moment. He was a tough kid, a cocaine addict, and his family had had enough.
Mark had been in and out of rehabilitation clinics, but he never stayed clean.
He hung out with the wrong crowd, and it truly amazed his parents that he'd
never been arrested. At their wit's end, after another stint at
rehabilitation, Mark's parents decided to send him south, away from his
friends, hoping that the slower-paced living would calm him down. Clay and
Mark's dad had met many years ago at a fund-raiser for a mutual friend. They
stayed in touch, and it was Clay's insistence that put Mark on the Greyhound
to Alabama. Mark was clean for the two months of the clinic, and his parents
hoped that Clay could keep him that way. A question from Clay brought Mark out
of his reverie.

"Wanna try a cigar," Clay asked, the accent on the first syllable. He was
already chewing on a stogie himself.

"Thanks, Mr. Montgomery, I've never had one." Mark accepted the cigar,
smelling its nasty aroma. Clay showed the novice how to light the cigar, and
with his first inhale, Mark nearly choked to death. Clay said, "I heard you
were tough. Hell, Dixie didn't cough once. I guess she's tougher." Clay's
laughter brought back the memory of Dixie clobbering him at the lake.

Mark thought of himself as a pretty tough guy. He had been in many fights and
had probably won more than he had lost. He fought a number of guys who were
bigger, but he had never battled a woman. Especially not one who couldn't
weigh more than 110 pounds. And was she ever sexy! Mark really wanted her; he
hadn't had any in a long time. The next time would be different.

There was someone taking a bath. Clay and Betty Jean were snoring away on the
sofa. Daisy and Jeb were in bed. Mark peeked through the bathroom door, which
was slightly ajar, and saw Dixie. He quietly opened the door. Dixie's upper
body and face were obscured by the shower curtain, which had been pulled over
to the side of the tub. Mark could see Dixie's lovely legs. He moved to the
center of the bathtub and stuck his face into the water, trying for a quick
feel. Dixie wrapped her legs around Mark's neck and held him underwater.
Trapped, Mark flailed at Dixie's legs, but she held him easily. She pulled his
head out of the tub, and then immediately put it back, leaving him under for a
long time. Mark was suffocating and about to drown, when the beautiful
20-year-old released him. Dixie exited the tub, naked, but Mark couldn't
appreciate her shapely body. He was too busy just trying to breathe. Moving
behind the young man, Dixie wrapped her slim, surprisingly strong arms around
Mark's waist. Lifting him upside down, Dixie dunked Mark's head back
underwater. She kept him under for awhile, and then lifted his head just above
the water level. Dixie held him for a few seconds, and then Mark was back
underwater. His legs twitched, his arms flailed trying to free himself, but he
had no chance. Dixie felt Mark begin to go limp, and pulled him out of the
tub. Still upside down, Mark gulp deep breaths of air into his lungs. When
Dixie was satisfied that Mark had regained some of his normal respiration, she
dumped him completely into the water. Still naked, she selected a brush and
began stroking her long wet hair.

Sputtering water, Mark could see Dixie's pert, sexy backside. Her bare breasts
were outlined through the mist in the mirror. Unselfconsciously, Dixie
finished with her hair and donned her bathrobe. She turned to Mark, flashed
him an amused smile, then left for her room. Already wet for the second time
today, the boy removed his clothes and took his own shower. Naked, he walked
to his room where Betty Jean had left him some towels. Wrapping himself in
them, Mark sat on the bed and thought about Dixie.

Mark awoke with thoughts of Dixie fresh in his head. It was completely dark
outside. He had fallen asleep in his towels. Mark imagined Dixie lying in her
bed, waiting for him. She was beautiful, but there was something else. She had
beaten him up. Twice. Mark easily convinced himself that he wasn't ready for
either confrontation. Now that he was alert and ready for her, Mark knew she
was really no match for him. She was incredibly sexy, however, and that
thought propelled him to do something foolhardy.

Mark crept into Dixie's room. Still naked, he crawled into bed with her. She
was wearing a short nightie. Mark put his hand on her thigh, stroking it
softly. Dixie awoke alertly; there was no panic in her voice, but she was very
angry.

"What in Sam's hill do you think you're doing? You can be arrested for rape
and go to jail for a very long time. My daddy is the Sheriff. This is
incredibly stupid"

"I'm not trying to do anything," Mark said, still stroking Dixie's thigh. "I
just like you."

Taking Mark's arm with a firm hand, Dixie said, "Look. I know you're not
really a bad guy. I'll give you a break. If you go back to your room, we'll
pretend this never happened. OK?"

Mark was not deterred. "C'mon, Dixie, just one kiss. I promise
you'll...Owwwwwww."

Dixie had wrenched Mark's arm up behind his back. "You're just not very smart,
boy. I don't know why you do what you do. But you're going to learn." Dixie
pulled the naked man across her lap.

Mark struggled, but Dixie held him easily. "Stop moving. We both know I'm
stronger than you." This only served to make Mark struggle harder. It didn't
help. With her free hand, Dixie smacked his bare behind hard. Mark bit his lip
not to yelp. He didn't need anyone coming in to see this. She continued the
punishment, spanking Mark with her strong hand. Tears flowed out of his eyes,
but he never cried out. If only his buddies could see him now, Mark thought
bitterly, buck naked and spanked against his will by a smaller woman.

Completing the spanking, Dixie dragged the young man to the open window. Mark
immediately figured out what Dixie intended. He fought hard to stop her, to no
avail.

"Alley oop," Dixie said as she threw him out the window. Mark fell down a
dozen feet and landed in the thorny bramble bushes below. They broke his fall,
but scratched Mark severely. He crawled out of the bramble patch, scratched,
bleeding and naked. With nowhere to go, Mark pushed up against the house, as
warm light rain began to fall. Wet and miserable, he slept intermittently and
fitfully.

"Wake up, boy," Clay declared.

Mark opened his eyes to see the Sheriff standing over him.

"Do you always sleep like that? You must like being wet. Wait here, I'll go
get something for you to put on."

Clay returned with a robe that Mark donned gratefully. He followed Clay into
the house. Dixie was upstairs, still in the nightie, watching. Mark averted
his eyes when he saw her. He began heading to the staircase.

"Mark!" Clay said sharply. The young man turned to face the Sheriff. Clay was
smiling slyly. "If you ever pull anything again, I'll have Dixie drag you to
the town square and you'll get your punishment in front of the whole dang
town. Do you want that?"

"No, sir," Mark said weakly.

"Then go upstairs and get dressed. You're coming with me to the office today.
We'll see if we can make a man out of you."

"Yes, sir," Mark answered and climbed the stairs. He passed Dixie and paused
briefly to regard the sexy young woman who actually was his salvation.

Mark went into his room to get dressed.