I remember some of this slang, what does that say about me? You better not say I'm old. Say I read a lot. ha ha. This is a blast and I'm sure you'll enjoy.
By Cara Bristol
In researching the 1950s for my story Educating His Bride in the spanking romance collection Correcting the Coeds, I ran across a slang glossary from the 1950s. Some terms are still used today, others are familiar (although no longer in popular usage) while others have completely different meanings today. Just for “kicks,” here’s some “boss” slang from the 1950s:
Back seat bingo – kissing in the car
Committed – engaged to be married
Give me a bell – phone me
Hit the bottle – bleach one’s hair blonde
Hottie – a fast car
Jacketed – going steady
Keepers – one’s parents
Make out – kissing, petting
On pills – dieting
On the hook – in love
Passion pit – drive-in movie
Pinky’s out of jail – your slip is showing
Snowed – infatuated
Educating His Bride from Correcting the Coeds blurb
Never much interested in her studies, Margaret Atwater attends college hoping to graduate with an Mrs. degree instead of a bachelor’s. When she catches the eye of English Professor Henry Thurston, she’s thrilled to marry him, drop out of school, and begin a new life as a married woman and faculty wife. However, Henry is a kinky man who has much to teach his eager young bride—in, and out, of the bedroom. As Mrs. Henry Thurston, Margaret’s education has just begun.
“Now, tell me why you believe I grade you harder than anybody else.”
She wet her lips. “Because you do.”
“My standards are no more exacting for you than they are for any other student. I expect excellence from each of you.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.”
He flipped open a record book and ran his finger down a list. “As it stands now, your grade is a shaky C minus. If you don’t do well on the final next week, you run the risk of getting a D in the course.” He snapped the grade book closed. “We had a discussion after your last paper, did we not?”
“I believe I warned you what the consequences would be if you failed to get at least a B.” He opened his middle desk drawer.
Yes, they’d talked about—but he couldn’t be serious.
He withdrew a thick, heavy eighteen-inch measuring stick. “Lock the office door, please.”
Her feet obeyed, even as her mind rebelled. Will he really do this? Her hand shook as she twisted the key. She supposed she could have fled screaming down the corridor, except ladies did not run, let alone scream.
Henry closed the Venetian blinds and switched on a lamp.
She leaned against the stout wood of the door, her eyes riveted on the nasty ruler.
“Come forward, please.” He beckoned with a curl of his fingers. “Put your hands on the desk. Do not remove them until your punishment is over.”
“Henry, please,” she beseeched.
“Now, Margaret.” His expression implacable, he folded his arms. There would be no budging him.
Seeing him so, so stern did something funny to her insides. Made them quiver. It wasn’t all nerves, either. She shuffled forward to place her palms against the blotter. I can do this. How bad can it be? He won’t spank me hard. He only intends to scare me.
He moved the chair out of the way. “Fifteen spanks.”
Fifteen? She’d expected two or three at most. Hadn’t expected any if the truth be told.
She sensed movement and then the ruler struck her backside, blazing a line of fire, and she cried out.
“That’s one,” he said.
The only thing worse than being spanked would be the humiliation of discovery. She clamped her lips together and braced for the next strike.
Another pain-laden streak lanced through several layers of clothing. She couldn’t imagine the impact on bare skin.
“Two,” he said.
Thwack! The length of the ruler struck both cheeks at once, and her hands flew off the desk to protect her bottom.
“You know where your hands belong. Put them there unless you want extra strokes.”
She slapped her palms onto the desk.
“That was three,” he said.
A whoosh then the measuring stick seared the crease where buttocks met thigh and, despite her resolve to remain silent, a little cry escaped.
“I’m sorry I have to punish you, but you promised to do better. You made a commitment. That was four.”
Margaret sucked back the tears. “Maybe I didn’t break a promise. Maybe I’m not smart enough.”
“I don’t believe that about you for an instant. You didn’t do well because you didn’t apply yourself.”
He applied himself with another stroke that got Margaret dancing on tiptoes in an attempt to alleviate the burn.
Multi-published, Cara Bristol is the author of more than 20 erotic romance titles. She writes spanking romance, contemporary romance, paranormal, and science fiction romance. No matter what the subgenre, one thing remains constant: her emphasis on character-driven seriously hot erotic stories with sizzling chemistry between the hero and heroine. Cara has lived many places in the United States, but currently lives in Missouri with her husband. She has two grown stepkids. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading and traveling.