Would he spank her? The thought had drifted into her befuddled mind as she fell asleep. Waking up, with Rick already in the shower, she had not overcome the guilt and shame of being drunk. Her friends had even shunned her towards the end of the evening; the recollection came back in her sobriety. Hiding under the sheets, she pretended to be asleep. It was an unconscious act at first, then she understood why she had to be late that morning. She needed him to spank her. The realisation dawned on her overhung mind and took root. But why did she want him to punish her?
Punishment. She used the word in her head and then dismissed it. It wasn’t what she sought from Rick. The idea was humiliating, being spanked like a naughty child. She was an adult, she should be able to correct her own attitudes and behaviours. She could, she knew she could, if she put her mind to it. She had survived three years at university without Rick keeping an eye on her.
It meant some other deep need had to be met. Trying to describe it, put logic and rational reasons to her jumbled-up meanderings didn’t work. Climbing out of bed, she decided it was not down to her. If Rick believed she deserved to be spanked, then so be it. If not, she would find her own way to show remorse for her behaviour.
Sex would be a good offering. Over the past two weeks it had been an amazing revelation. Orgasms galore, pussy licked out, cock sucked, and her insatiable lust to learn how to be the best in bed had kept them busy.
There had been the contraceptive discussion and Leah had been embarrassed to admit she was on the pill, which led to her talking about her previous bedfellows, all students: two one-night stands and a three-month boyfriend who cheated on her and left her uninterested in men for a considerable time.
She had confessed to being ashamed at the way she lost her virginity. “I was a little drunk,” she had said, pulling a face.
Rick had kissed her forehead and simply said, “What’s done is done. Don’t worry about it. However, this drinking, it has to be controlled. You haven’t done drugs, have you?” he had asked abruptly.
They both knew the clubs and pubs were increasingly used to push the latest concoctions. “No, absolutely not,” she had said with conviction. “I may be thoughtless, but I’m not idiotic.”
She had forgotten to ask Rick about his experiences, but she was convinced the man had no bad habits and there was no way he would become mixed up in drugs.
Neither of them said anything of substance in the car on the way to Littlewoods. No mention of spankings. It only made Leah feel worse, not better. The winter mornings were finally ending, no more driving to work in semi-darkness. Soon there would be spring, and she would be able to spend time outdoors. Long evenings of sunlight, and she hoped it would keep her out of the clubs; those places were a magnet for her need to unwind and forget her troubles, her lost parents—she couldn’t help but be drawn to the bars. The swinging sixties were in their last year, Merseybeat had passed its prime. She had to move on. Somehow.
* * *
His hand itched all day to spank her. To take her over his knee and see her pale bottom turn a shade of red. He hadn’t intended to enjoy spanking her. Having witnessed a few gruesome beatings at his army schools, he had never seen corporal punishment as erotic or pleasurable. How could he explain to her the way he felt?
At the same time, he did want her to understand he expected better from her. Now that they were lovers—something he could not believe in the cold light of day—she would have to remember that she should conform to his wishes. It was how his old-fashioned father had educated him: women at home, taking care of their husbands, meekly and obediently. In his father’s presence, Rick
had kept his mouth shut about his own mother’s absence. Fortunately for Rick’s father, the army served as a more than adequate replacement for his missing wife.
Rick and Leah were only lovers though and not husband and wife. Rick couldn’t force or demand Leah to be obedient to him. He spanked her in the hope she would see her own way there. Now he had come to enjoy the intimate act, other emotions had come into play, and he was fighting hard to understand and control them.
Clubs were her weakness. Those private establishments—away from the workmen’s pubs where the dockers frowned upon women—were her nemesis. She had become hooked on the music, the bright strobe lights, and the ridiculous drinks, which were designed to entice the younger generation rather than encourage them to savour a quality drink. It gave Rick an idea.
Friends were not his forte, but those he did foster were mutually beneficial. Easily liked by most people, he had one such friend he could call upon for a favour. It would have to be Saturday morning; before then his plan would not be feasible. However, Leah had to know he hadn’t let her raucous evening and subsequent lingering in bed slip him by.
He told her in the car on the way home after her day’s work.
“I haven’t forgotten about last night. Your sordid behaviour in the bar: vulgar and unladylike. Nor will I ignore you lying in bed this morning, having told me you would be good about getting to work on time. But you will have to wait until Saturday before I can deal with these issues, Miss Leah.” He added the formality. There in the car, she may be the client, but he saw a different role for himself—her protector.
Her face in the mirror surprised him. He had expected her to look petulant or disagreeable; instead she almost smiled and then, as if to truly digest his words, she gave a tiny nod of agreement.
* * *
Driving into the city early Saturday morning, Leah had no clue of their destination. Rick had asked her to dress in a mini-skirt and she had put on long boots to keep her legs warm and a fluffy scarf about her neck, plus a woolly bobble hat. The morning dew shimmered on the grass verges and the daffodils added a spark of bright yellow to the dull morning.
She had asked, but Rick had told her to wait and see. It gave her butterflies in the stomach; she knew it was the promised consequence that awaited her.
The car pulled up on a side street, alongside a row of shops. Opposite, on the corner of the street was a solitary door with a sign about the entrance. It was to this establishment that Rick led her, gripping her hand tightly.
“It won’t be open,” she said, scampering along next to him.
“It will be for us. I know the head barman,” said Rick, ringing the bell.
A middle-aged man appeared, wiping his hands on a tea towel and led them into the nightclub. It wasn’t one Leah had patronised before now. The balding man greeted Rick and handed him the keys. “Just finished cleaning up last night’s mess. It’s all yours, mate, lock up and post the keys back through the letter box. I’ve a spare set. Have fun.” With a chuckle, the man disappeared through a side door.
“I don’t understand,” muttered Leah. All about her were tables and chairs, laid out clean and tidy, ready for the evening’s extravaganza. At one end of the dimly lit room was a small stage for live bands to perform on, at the other a long bar with high stools. It was to one wall that Rick headed. Leaning over the jukebox, he scanned the listing. “Some of your favourites here.”
“Are we going to dance?” asked Leah optimistically.
Rick ignored her request. “Every night this place fills up with punters. My mate, Denis, keeps the place ticking over. He watches from his bar as people have a good time. Most people. Some don’t.” Rick came and perched on the edge of the stage.