Unwanted Gifts

August 20, 1896
Charles Birchwood

“It is called a telephone.” Carrington said.

“I am well aware of what it is. What is it doing in my living room?” I replied.

The man has a knack for annoyance unlike any creature I have ever known save for my wife. If I did not know better I would swear they were brother and sister. Fortunately such is not the case and in any regard they have little regard for each other.

“They are being installed in all the faculty homes on campus. The Dean considers this a gift and a privilege.” He replied.

“Does he think the same of the plagues of Egypt?” I muttered.

“I will ask him.”

“Remind me again, why are you in my home?”

“I am here to supervise the installation.”

“Because you are an expert on telephones.”

“Because I am a trusted member of the faculty.”

“If you always do as your told, I can see why.”

“A gentleman is loyal to his causes.”

“A servant does as he is told without question or thought.”

“In another time and place we could have been friends, even now we could be.”

“Perhaps but I live in this time and place and I choose my friends with greater care. If you seek to gain my trust, you will fail. If you seek to gain my forgiveness you should as for it.”

“I seek nothing from you and as I recall it is you who owes me and my wife an apology. Or is it common courtesy in your experience to assault a man in his home?”

“It may not be courteous to the man but it was courteous to others.”

“You still have no idea what happened.”

“I have plenty of ideas I am only lacking in facts. If I had them I would have turned them over to our good sheriff.”

“I am not what you believe.”

“I have no reason to believe you and every reason to suspect you. In the future you will remember that while this house belongs to the college it is my residence as long as I am here. If you have business in my home I expect to be notified and present whenever your duties require you to be here.”

“Of course. It was my wish to avoid unnecessary contact.”

“Yes, that is the way of the coward, but not the way of the gentleman.”

“You have no right--”

“I have every right, this is my home and you are far from welcome as is that thing. I presume you have no further business so I would ask that you leave now.”

“Very well.”

Carrington left. He was boiling with anger but he had not the backbone to voice it. In fact he seems to have no backbone at all. I wonder how he manages to keep the girls in line? Perhaps it is Mrs. Carrington who has all the strength.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Caroline said a few hours later.

“Of what are you referring?” I asked.

I was trying to enjoy a glass of whiskey in the living room after dinner.

“The telephone of course.” She said.

“What is wonderful about it?”

“Don’t you know what they are used for?”

“Yes, and I find nothing wonderful about being able to talk to people whose presence I have all ready left.”

“We could have spoke when I was staying at my father’s if you had it before. That would have been nice.”

“If I had wanted to speak with you I would not have sent you away.”

“You were not all ways like that.”

“There is an art to writing letters, part of which is the ability to plan out a conversation with care. This is something that infernal device will no doubt do away with.”

“It is not so bad to be spontaneous.”

“In the right time and place, you are correct, but our youth is lacking enough in forethought and such devices at their convenience will only make them more so.”

“If you say so, Charles.”

“I do and as for that thing, you will not use it without my permission and the children shall not use it ever. Understood?”

“Of course, Charles.”

“Now leave me in peace, my dear. I have only a few more days to do so before the campus is packed with students.”

She smiled at me and then rose up and walked away. As she did so, she swayed her hips just slightly more than was necessary for walking. Clearly she wanted my attention and she had it. I imagined her full bottom, bared and over my knee. My hand alternated from caressing to smacking. The soft flesh turned pink, then red under my attentions and her gentle cries were a mix between discomfort and pleasure.

I took another sip and thought of following her upstairs.