Have You Seen This Man?

What I want to know is, Sammi was already "seated," why didn't she just pull the scoundrel over her knees and spank him. Then write a story about it.

I'm sure the others would have heard the commotion and him yelling how much it hurt then would have investigated. I'm quite sure this being the LSF library, they could have procured some useful implements to finish the job Sammi started.

Whew! I'm so thankful to have narrowly missed an encounter with this miscreant! (But now everyone knows the truth about how little Elorac and I actually work on validating!)

Oh I don't know, the pair of you validated that crate of Prosecco in record time

Oh, absolutely not! I just happen to enjoy a good single malt, but I must have enjoyed a bit too much when I walked face-first into a door. I'd never be foolish enough to incur the wrath of our beloved Head Librarian. Any evidence to the contrary is purely circumstantial. (And the fact that I've had some experience in making up stories should not be taken as an indication that I might be making up this one.)

I wasn't there

Not me. I don't drink so I'd have no use for all that booze.
I also don't look all that masculine.

I would point out that this is the library of Spanking FICTION and that these real life events should be posted elsewhere

After six bottles of wine and and a substantial amount of single malt, what is real and what is fiction tend to get a little blurred.

As a subscriber l am appalled that my subscription is being spent on booze instead of the library upkeep. I can remember first seeing the great hall of the library, the floor to ceiling mahogany shelves guarding the thousands of stories. The smell of the beeswax from the elves polishing the wood every night and carefully dusting down each story. The Chinese lacquered cabinets with all the small drawers with the library cards in neat copperplate.
The reading room with its open fires and green leather reading chairs where Lords and Ladies, judges, Members of Parliament and ladies and gentlemen of the better public schools could relax with a story. Muted whispers dancing in the vaulted ceiling with the motes of dust.
And of course, high tea in the long room. The stained glass windows projecting colours onto the white linen table cloths, the silver cake stands and the fine bone china tea service. Where the great and the good could discuss the issues of the day. Such as; do you birch your servants before or after dinner and where to find a nanny that properly understands disciplining the children.
Where did it all go wrong?

As the authors don't get paid, one has to tickle their vanity to keep them writing. Experience shows that nothing tickles their vanity better than serving them single malts while they recline in the leather chairs and look dreamingly at the mahogany walls. Cheap trick, but it works every time.