“Three!” he exclaimed. “What were you driving?”
“My MG. I got a little carried away the third time and they said I was reckless, or something. The magistrate banned me for six months.”
“Reckless endangerment!” Rick glared at her. “You risked your safety to drive fast. Don’t you know how to drive a sports car, I mean, did you have lessons first?”
“No. I just bought it and…”
“You should have had somebody teach you drive it properly,” said Rick, annoyed at her lack of common sense.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Dad had gone… and nobody…” She began to snivel. “If you had been here, spanked me the first time, it would never had happened.”
“True. Well, it’s not too late to spank you, is it?” he said, changing lanes.
“No,” she said. “Are you going to spank me?” Her voice trembled as she asked.
Rick calmed his anger; she sounded contrite about her bad driving and speeding tickets. There was one way he could find out and he didn’t see any point in wasting time. The threads of their lives had diverged for three years; Rick was keen to intertwine them once again.
Chapter Four
Leah thought she was familiar with the layout of the city, but Rick took off in the direction of the docks and quickly lost her in the side streets behind the major quays.
“Where are we going?” she asked nervously.
Darkness had descended, the evening light quickly gone and the foreboding warehouses rose up out of the streets, hiding the moonlight. Red-bricked monoliths with row upon row of small windows. The structures had much similarity to a prison or workhouse.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said from the front seat.
“I’m not,” she said curtly, but it was a lie. She did feel a little scared by the detour.
Leah had a whole day at work to assimilate the re-emergence of Rick. A hundred questions thundered through her mind from the moment she clocked in, continuing unabated until Rick picked her up. While her fingers had held swatches of fabrics, matching them to colour descriptions, her colleagues had repeated instructions, nudged her arm or scolded her for being tardy. Once the surprise had dissipated, she had gone back in time, reminded herself of Rick, the man and his impact on her life.
After confessing to her near criminal driving habits, his manner of addressing her had immediately put Leah back three years and the image of her bottom spanked to a fiery red had emerged unfettered. Blurting out her need for accountability, she had not expected him to take it so seriously, so quickly. Here they were, hours after meeting again and she knew he had something planned and it would involve them picking up right where they had left off. Her heart boomed in her chest, her toes curled up in her shoes. She could tell him to turn around, insist they went home, but she didn’t. Her lips remained tightly sealed. No, she wasn’t afraid—she felt excited. She was about to rediscover her forgotten desires and awaken many neglected emotions.
Behind the back of one great warehouse were lesser ones, surrounding a small docking area. It was eerily quiet and unattended. Rick stopped the car, turned off the engine, and opened his door.
His hand, which she eagerly took for comfort’s sake, was cool and calming. Helping her to her feet, he locked the car behind them and led her towards a doorway.
“These have been recently abandoned. Times are changing, the docks too. Liverpool is passing into history, at least, when it comes to some things,” said Rick, still holding her hand, leading her into the warehouse.
Leah’s shoes clattered on the boarding. The streetlights hadn’t reached into the building, and she screwed up her eyes, peering into the pitch-black space.
Lights flickered, at first uncertain whether to stay on or give up, then they fired into action. Long strip lights came up overhead and lit up the vast storage room.
“Electricity still on,” remarked Rick. “Good. This would be difficult to do in the dark.” His voice sounded almost jovial to Leah.
About them, either in rows or scattered randomly, were crates, tea chests, and sacking cloths. All the paraphernalia of long-term storage, left unused in the workers’ haste to be gone. The floor was dusty, the air musty but not unpleasant in aroma. Leah thought she could smell spices, or perhaps even coffee beans. A legacy of previous bustling days when tonnes of goods had
been shipped in and out.
Rick walked up to an upended tea chest. “This will do,” he said, patting the top.
“For what?” she asked.
“To bend over. For your spanking.”
“What if somebody comes?” She turned around, listening for sounds of footsteps or voices. There were none.
“Nobody will come here. It’s deserted,” said Rick confidently. “Now come over here.”