Story from Janus 26.
A Seaside Encounter
If you walked past the holiday chalets you came to a stretch of beach where nobody much seemed to go although it was attractive enough, scrub land and the open sea with a narrow ribbon of beach between. That Thursday afternoon, with a hint of rain in the brisk offshore wind, there seemed to be no one there at all and she had walked for perhaps half a mile quite alone. And then she saw him, a lone figure standing gazing out to sea. Afterwards, looking back, it was tempting to think she sensed something about him, some special quality, even then. But she knew that, really, she was just being fanciful.
She had been there almost a week, the first half of a two-week holiday with her parents and though she would never have hurt their feelings by admitting it, she had begun to get bored. Due, without doubt, primarily to the fact that Bob wasn't there. Bob, due to become her fiance in a month's time, was 19 like her, and, by the worst possible timing, had had to go off on a company training course on those very two weeks.
It had come up at the last minute, someone else's cancellation creating a vacancy that Bob couldn't afford to miss. Jane had already booked her own holidays from work so there was no real option but to go ahead, with just her parents for company. To spend time wandering rather forlornly about in the little holiday town and along the beaches, since she wasn't all that keen on simply sitting in the sun because she burned easily, and anyway it had been a little too cool for that. So she'd been wandering around, thinking of Bob and how wonderful it would be if he was beside her right now.
That's what she was thinking when she walked around the point, and saw him; that lone male figure. Then the rain started, but she didn't feel like going back to that boring boarding house just yet, so she strode on, protected against the English weather in slacks and an anorak over her tee-shirt. As she got closer she could see the man was older, maybe in his fifties, a tallish man with grey hair, a walking-stick in his hand.
She was aiming to pass behind him further up the beach and not stop, but as she approached he broke off his reverie and turned round, then walked back up the beach towards her. He called a polite 'Good Morning' through the wind and waved. She stopped.
Smiling he said, "It'll be raining heavily very soon, I fear. You don't look dressed for a downpour."
He was evidently not a summer visitor, with that stick and his highly polished, expensive-looking, shoes. And that so educated accent! She found she had stopped and was chatting to him without really intending to. Now when she looked back, there clearly was something about him. Those really piercing eyes and the air of... well... authority. Of being used to giving commands. And having them obeyed – unquestioningly.
He said, "You'll get soaking wet very soon, you know. Why don't you come back to my place and shelter until the worst is over? I only live just over the top. I'll make you a nice warm cup of tea. I don't think the rain will last too long."
The rain was becoming distinctly heavier and she thought of the distance she had to walk back. She looked at him, wondering if she should listen to all the warnings she'd been brought up with, but then said impulsively. "I'd love to. Thank you."
They reached his home just as the rain began to pour, a largish old house about five minutes walk back from the coast and protected by a windbreak of pines. Inside he took her wet anorak and she removed her woolly hat, shaking out her long, blonde hair. She was at once aware of his sharply appraising eyes; taking in her softly pretty face and also the rest of her body. She felt her face colouring up.
Because her tight yellow tee-shirt, she was only too aware, particularly with such a thin, seamless bra underneath, clearly revealed her full firm breasts and clearly delineated her button nipples. Her equally tight white slacks, clinging to her shapely bottom, likewise showed just about everything, including a clear outline of her bikini briefs.
She was dressed fashionably just like other teenage girls but she felt herself blushing madly as he looked. The problem was that she spent most of her time with men of Bob's age who were at ease with current fashions but with this rather distinguished older man she felt... well... rather naked.
His eyes suddenly stopped their frank appraisal as he smiled and said, "I'm awfully sorry. I haven't even introduced myself. My name is Robert Kendall."
Recovering her composure a little, she replied, "And I'm Jane... Jane Williams."
He made her some tea, and then sitting on the sofa in his sitting room she found she was telling him just about everything about herself, while his brown eyes gazed almost hypnotically at her – but mainly at her nipples. Why hadn't she worn something a little less revealing, she thought, feeling slightly uncomfortable, but then how could she have known...?
And, after she'd told him about the holiday and how bored she was, he said, "If you're so much at a loose end, why not come and do some work for me?"
He was writing a history of that part of the country and of his family who lived there for many years. He said he had a regular assistant but she was away on holiday.
"It's just secretarial work," he said, "but quite varied." Then smiling, he added, "I can promise you I won't let you get bored."
It was a shock, his offer coming out of the blue like that. She coloured up, then found herself saying, "Yes, I'd love to," without really thinking. When she had time to think she didn't regret her decision, it was just what she needed, but she was slightly startled by the fact that her initial response had been automatic as if somehow she was unable to refuse him.
"Good!" he said. "Splendid! I'm sure we will get on excellently!"
Shortly after that he got up and walked over to the window; it seemed to be brightening, he said. She went over and indeed the rain had just about stopped. As she stood beside him she suddenly felt his hand lightly on her waist. It sent a tingling shock right through her.
He said quietly, "You're quite a find, you know, Jane. Such a pretty girl and such a perfect age. Just 19. On the very brink of womanhood but still very young and malleable."
The firm hand squeezed gently and she just stood there, helpless, and beginning to tremble slightly. The soft voice continued, "Possibly young enough still to need a little firm guidance, eh, Jane?"
Then he said, quite casually, "Did you get that kind of firm guidance at school, Jane? Here, for example, on this lovely little bottom?"
As he spoke his hand moved down then slid over her bottom, handling it through the skin tight slacks as if it were his own private property.
She gasped – it was an almost unbelievable thing to do when she had met him only half an hour before. In considerable confusion she moved away, turning her bottom away from him. But the sensation of his hand remained as if it had left some indelible imprint.
Calmly, he repeated, "Well did you, Jane? Ever get this smacked or caned?"
She stammered in hapless confusion, "N-no of course not."
He laughed. "So neglectful of your teachers. A girl's bottom is simply made for discipline."
She was still trying to digest this and make some kind of a response when he said, very firmly, "Now, down to business. About tomorrow. I'd like you here at 9......"
* * *
She walked back along the beach with her mind in turmoil. Half of her thoughts were saying she just shouldn't turn up. Phone him and say she'd changed her mind. Because she had the distinct feeling that this was something she couldn't handle! He was like no one she had ever met before, a man to whom she felt automatically subservient, and that was clearly dangerous. And that self confident hand on her bottom; she kept reliving the memory and each time it made her go hot and cold.
But the other half of her was saying, you have to turn up because you promised. You can't go back on it now. And she knew it was this half she would follow, because for all the risk and the danger she was shivering, not just with apprehension, but from pure excitement.
She told her parents she had met a distinguished writer and was going to do some casual secretarial work. "Oh that will be nice," said her mother. "Give you something to occupy your mind. I've been thinking how lost you seem without Bob."
Yes, but if only you knew the rest, mom, she thought to herself. What on earth am I getting into? She rang Bob later. The course was quite interesting, he said, but he really missed her.
"I miss you too," she replied automatically down the line, then realised that she had hardly thought about him at all since her experience with Major Robert Kendall. She knew he was a Major after looking up his number in the phone book.
Her mind went back to what he'd said. About firm guidance and caning at school. It was just ridiculous – girls didn't get caned at school these days. But there was something – a memory from school which Major Kendall's remark had triggered.
She suddenly realised that Major Kendall wasn't completely unlike anyone she'd ever met, after all, because there had been Captain Maitland. When she was 16 she had changed schools from one with an all female staff to St. Margaret's, which had two male teachers. One, Mr. Fulford, had not been very exciting for he was fat, middle aged and bald, but the other one, Captain Maitland, had all the adolescent girls swooning. He was an ex-naval officer, tall and distinguished looking. In that respect very much resembling Major Kendall.
Captain Maitland had been a firm, no-nonsense, disciplinarian and it was rumoured that he spanked girls in private but the girls never heard anything other than rumours. Though he had left the school in mysterious circumstances just about six months after Jane joined.
She recalled a girl of her own age, Sarah Kemp, with whom she had become very friendly, slipping into her bed one night and holding her tightly. Then Sarah said, breathlessly, "Don't you wish I was Captain Maitland here in bed with you?" Then, "And what about if he called you to his room and put you over his lap with your knickers down for a spanking? Wouldn't that just blow your mind?"
She hadn't thought much about it before Sarah's remark but after that she savoured it nightly in her dormitory bed. Being summoned to Captain Maitland's room and being told, in that firm authoritarian voice, to get her knickers down and then bend over his desk. And then the electric sensation of hard male hand on soft bare female bottom...
That night for the first time during the holiday, as she lay in bed it was not Bob she was thinking of but two older authoritarian figures, Captain Maitland and Major Kendall. And guiltily, she ran through the same scene with both of them. She was a schoolgirl again in the St. Margaret's uniform, the short grey pleated skirt and the red and grey striped tie. And that straw hat with its red and grey ribbon squarely on her blonde head.
First in Captain Maitland's room and then in Major Kendall's the straw boater was removed and placed carefully on the desk and then her hands went up under the short skirt to her regulation brief white knickers, to slip them down to her knees. And then her bared bottom was either spanked over the master's lap or bent over his desk and caned.
The scenes were feverishly exciting, an excitement tinged with guilt and fear that she was allowing herself to have such thoughts. She tried to excuse them by telling herself it was just sexual frustration that was causing these bizarre thoughts, but............
* * *
It was with a similar mixture of feelings that she arrived at Major Kendall's house at dead on 9 a.m. the next day. She hadn't phoned to cry off, off course – she knew she wouldn't. She was meekly presenting herself for whatever he had in store, and this morning she had chosen a light summer frock, not the figure hugging slacks and tee-shirt she had worn the day before.
Major Kendall opened the door, his eyes immediately appraising. "Ah good morning, Jane! On time I see! And such a pretty dress."
She felt her heart give a flutter. Then, as he ushered her in, he added, "I wonder if, subconsciously, Jane, you wore a dress today to please me after our little chat yesterday. When girls are in nice short dresses or skirts they can be so conveniently lifted up for discipline. Even for the cane to be applied to their bottoms. Don't you think so, Jane?"
She blushed furiously because it was exactly what she had been fantasising about in bed. Could this man see inside her soul? In some confusion, she managed, "I... I... I think you've got a very vivid imagination."
He laughed. "Perhaps!"
In his study, though, he was immediately all business-like, showing her what he wanted her to do; photocopying sections of books, typing, indexing. All work which, as a secretary, she would find quite straightforward. He himself started writing and now she hardly knew what to think as his attitude had become strictly professional.
Then at 10.30 or so, Mrs. Smith, his elderly housekeeper, came in to say she had put some coffee in the sitting room. Then Jane, sitting on the sofa again and facing Major Kendall, sensed another change in him. His eyes gave her that long piercing stare which made her feel quite helpless and weak. Her hand, holding the coffee cup, began to tremble.
He leaned forward, his face bearing a wolfish smile. "So, lovely Jane, what are we going to do about that splendid but clearly undisciplined bottom of yours? And that pretty dress of yours which you wore so it could be so easily lifted?"
She felt herself blushing bright red. "Look... please... I..." she began weakly.
"Let's talk about a situation for a moment," he said, ignoring her pleas, "let's talk about a pretty young servant girl named Jane. You would have made such a pretty domestic servant girl, Jane. Of course in this enlightened age, being 'in service' is thought of as very menial and demeaning but I'm sure it wasn't always so. The servant girl enjoyed complete security, with a nice pretty uniform to wear and all she had to do was to unquestioningly obey her master's orders. And, if she was lucky, he would be a kindly man, not requiring anything outrageous of her – not for instance requiring her to submit to him sexually.
"But," he said emphatically, "he would naturally deal with her very firmly when necessary, Jane. He would spank or whip her, quite frequently I'd imagine, and undoubtedly on her bare bottom. And he would probably use the cane on her bare behind to a certain extent. But you know I'm sure that, by and large, many a young girl found a naked whipping to be a very exciting experience. What do you think, Jane Williams? Would it have suited you? Would you have found it exciting?"
She bit her lip, hardly believing she was entering this conversation. "That only happened to lower-class girls."
"Ah no. Many middle-class girls got the same treatment, Jane. If it wasn't their father there was usually a kindly uncle or family friend always willing to pull a pretty girl's knickers down. All for her own good, of course. In those days, thanks to strict discipline, you never got the wild behaviour seen in today's young people."
Then he said, "Come and stand over here, next to me, Jane."
He hadn't raised his voice but it had a steely edge and was clearly a command. She found herself automatically getting up and going round the coffee table to stand, rather shakily, next to him.
"Good. A little closer please. Now lets play a little role play game. It is 1930. You are Jane Williams, a young and lovely housemaid in the house of Major Robert Kendall. He has just sent for you and you are standing submissively by his side. He wants to see how obedient you are."
And, as Jane gasped, Major Kendall slid his hand up the inside the rear of her summer frock. Feeling all the way up her bare thighs to the firm bottom in the brief tight nylon knickers. She felt faint – almost sick with panicky excitement.
"Now just keep still and relaxed. This fondling is something you are quite used to as a domestic servant. Major Kendall does it all the time to you, not with any overt sexual motive but merely to emphasise to you that, in your lowly role, your body belongs to your employer to a certain extent."
His hand openly explored the tightly knickered cheeks of her bottom, squeezing her flesh.
"Well Jane, this, if I may say so, is a particularly fine specimen of a bottom. Now what your employer has called you in for is to inform you that at 4.30 p.m. he wishes you to come and see him. He is going to spank your bottom. You have been getting slovenly and you haven't had a spanking in days."
The bold hand gave a final squeeze to the tightly nyloned buttocks, then slipped back down out of her dress. She was red-faced and trembling, her head spinning like a top.
"You may go and sit down again now, Jane," he said, his voice quite even as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. "We will meet again to complete the experience at 4.3o!"
Her voice was a croak. "Look... Major Kendall... please... you are joking, aren't you?"
She had sat down again, feeling dizzy, and for something to do picked up her coffee cup. Her shaking hand spilled coffee in the saucer. Now, once again sitting opposite him it wasn't his hand she had to contend with, it was the look in his eyes again – boring right through her.
He smiled. "Of course I'm not joking, my dear. It is clearly something you need. And, you know, ...I've a feeling that it's also something you want. Even if you don't want to admit it to yourself."
The day passed as if a dream with Jane barely able to think about what she was supposed to be doing. She could of course just walk out, but........ she couldn't somehow bring herself to do it. That would mean confronting Major Kendall anyway and she didn't feel up to that. At lunchtime he took her out to the pub, affably telling her about the area. Half listening, she wondered if she had imagined it – that awful but overwhelmingly exciting encounter at coffee time. Back in the house though, all through the afternoon, she found herself constantly glancing fearfully at the clock.
At 4.30 sharp he looked up at the clock. "Well, Jane, I believe it's time for that little meeting between our house maid and her employer. Shall we repair to the sitting-room?"
"Look..." she said in that croaky voice. Her mouth was dry and her heart racing. "P-Please... it's silly..."
"Silly?" Major Kendall's voice was hard and firm. The voice that was obviously accustomed to immediate, unquestioning obedience.
Jane flushed. "I... er... what I mean... I... er... I think you are joking with me."
"I most certainly am not joking. I thought I had made that clear. I simply want you to accept my demands without question as my servant girl should. Is that clear?"
Jane muttered, "Yes but....."
"No buts. Stand up please!"
Biting her lip she stood up. And this time, when he told her to go into the sitting-room, she complied as meekly as a lamb.
And then, although she could hardly believe it was happening, she was getting across Major Kendall's lap as he sat on one of his upright chairs. And then her skirt was up and Major Kendall's hand was rising and falling like a metronome, smacking sharply down onto the ripe resilient bottom in those tight, pale pink nylon knickers.
He smacked her bottom for some minutes and she felt again, but more strongly, that she was going to be sick, the excitement was so intense. By the time he had finished she was crying. Not that it hurt desperately but her bottom tingled and the whole thing was emotionally too much for her.
Getting to her feet and dabbing at her eyes, she heard him say:
"Very well taken, Jane. But tomorrow I think young Jane Williams will need another session. And for that one she'll need to take her knickers down!"
* * *
A sleepless night in which she tossed and turned and tried to think of Bob and resolved that if she went back to Major Kendall in the morning she would be very firm with him. She was not going to allow it again. She would not be spanked again – it was just too humiliating – and as for taking her knickers down.... She knew that her only really sensible course of action was not to go back at all.
But when the morning came she realised she was going – although with her little speech rehearsed, determined not to allow any more 'games'.
And that, indeed, was what she told him, stammering slightly, when he ushered her in.
"I... I really can't allow any more of that... that silliness, Major. So please... please don't try to persuade me."
She rather surprised herself at how well she had delivered her little address. He smiled briefly and said, "Let's worry about that later, shall we?"
So had he taken any notice of her or not? No he hadn't. At coffee time he said, "Drink up, Jane, and let's get it over with."
"G...get wh...what?" she began, feeling her pulse begin to race.
"You know quite well, my dear. I am going to spank your bare bottom."
"No!" she blurted, "You can't! I won't let you do it!"
He looked at her, his eyes seeming capable of looking right inside her head. His voice was low and mesmeric.
"Jane, we need to completely finish acting out your servant girl experience. I want you to understand true submission. And that means taking down your knickers and giving you a spanking on your completely bare bottom."
"No!" she gasped. But inside her, fighting with her sense of conventional decency and self respect, was a feeling that was beginning to take over, a sense of mounting excitement. That feeling she had at school. She stared at the floor to avoid his gaze.
"Look at me, Jane!" he commanded, and, reluctantly, she did.
"Please stand up and come over to me!"
And once again Jane found herself unable to resist. She got up and, on trembling legs, stood next to Major Kendall. She felt the excitement welling up inside as both his hands slipped up inside her skirt. Right up to the waistband of her knickers, then she felt them being pulled down, very slowly, to her knees. One firm male hand ran lightly over the globes of her bare bottom and she felt as if her knees were going to give way, she was quivering all over. But in any case Major Kendall was then pulling her down. Across his lap.
Her skirt was up, round her waist, so that her bottom was shamelessly exposed, and his hand was freely caressing its bare ripe cheeks. She was gasping, and then came the emotional outlet of tears – as the hand stopped fondling and started coming crisply down. That male hand smacking rhythmically down on her bare bottom. Smack!... Smack!.... Smack!.... Smack!
By the time he had finished spanking her she was sobbing hysterically. Getting up she blindly pulled up her knickers and then, in a stumbling run, went to get her coat and handbag. Then, still sobbing, she ran out of the front door.
She went blindly out, not really knowing or caring where she was going, her mind was in such a state. It had been simply overwhelming, being over his lap, his hand caressing and then beating her naked bottom. And worst of all, as she had struggled and protested she had felt a strong surge of sexual arousal flooding her body.
Her sexual desires were still strong as she half-walked, half-ran from the house and towards the beach. Further on she saw some woods to the left and impulsively ran in. Among the trees she was safe from view. She looked breathlessly around, then leaned against a tree trunk and, with a groan, slid her hand up under her skirt then pulled her underwear down around her knees.
Her hips squirmed as she worked her fingers inside, gasping, moaning..... Nearby a young beech tree had a low thick branch, hip high, jutting out almost horizontally. Glancing round guiltily, she went over to it and, lifting her skirt, got astride the smooth branch. With her hands on the tree trunk she began rocking herself.
She came almost immediately, a surging mind-blowing orgasm, then felt so ashamed that she behaved so wantonly out in the open. She sat down on the mossy ground and began weeping again.
She suddenly remembered that Bob was arriving that afternoon, an overnight break from his course. She had been keenly looking forward to his visit but now?..... well everything was such a mess. She just didn't know what she wanted. It was impossible to get Major Kendall out of her mind. She told herself she hated him, but at the same time.........
By the time Bob arrived she was feeling slightly better, helped by a bath and a change of clothes. Being with him again for the moment drove the Major Kendall business out of her mind. They went out in the country, found a secluded spot, and had sex. It was good – but not as wildly exciting as when she'd gotten herself off by rocking on the tree branch while picturing herself being spanked by Major Kendall. Afterwards, lying on the blanket with Bob, she began to cry again.
The tears set the tone for the rest of Bob's visit. They returned at odd moments for no apparent reason. It was clear that something was wrong but, of course, she couldn't tell him – was not even sure herself. That night he came quietly into her room, for her parents were a bit prudish and would not have approved of their pre-marital sex, but Jane, after clutching him desperately, suddenly realised she didn't want sex with him. They argued and Bob, furiously angry, left her crying, slamming the door loud enough to have wakened the dead.
The next day, Sunday, was no better and really she wasn't sorry when it was time for Bob to leave. She waved him a tearful farewell and then went up to her room. After half an hour of nail biting, tears and desperate walking up and down, she picked up the phone and hesitantly dialled the Major's number. With her head going round in a spin she heard the now familiar clipped tones.
He said, confidently, "Ah I thought you would call."
She sat, dumbfounded.
"You will be here in the morning, I assume?"
She bit her lip. "Y-Yes."
"Well nothing has changed , my girl. In fact I shall have to give you something for running out on me in that hysterical manner. I think you need the cane on your bare bottom, Jane. You do understand why, don't you, Jane?"
She gave a silent prayer that the hotel switchboard operator was not listening to this, while at the same time experiencing another wave of sexual excitement. "Yes," she said, softly.
"Good... and you are going to be sensible this time, are you?"
She was already fingering herself, thinking of those hot school fantasies of going into Captain Maitland's room. "Yes," she said, gasping.
Then he said something else. He told her she would accept her submissive role far more easily if she was dressed for the part. Therefore, before she came to his home in the morning, she was to go into Southborne, to Nichols store for hotel staff, and buy a hotel maid's outfit – 'a little black dress in silk, quite short, the hem about two inches above the knee'.
He wanted her to buy black nylons and a matching suspender belt, all of which he would of course reimburse her for. And shoes. Did she have a suitable pair? Black court shoes with a medium to high heel.....
* * *
11 a.m. Monday morning. A nice sunny day at the seaside, the first really nice one for over a week. Mr. and Mrs. Harold Williams are in deck chairs on the beach enjoying the sun.
About a mile and a half away their daughter Jane has just arrived at the home of Major Robert Kendall. She has just got off the Southborne bus and under her light coat is a maid's uniform; short black silky dress with nylons and high heels. The door is opened by Major Kendall.
Smiling, he greets her, then calmly reaches round and slips his hand under the hem of her little skirt as Jane gasps in startled surprise. He finds what he hoped to find – a completely bare bottom for that was one of his stipulations. Under her tiny skirt she is not to wear any knickers. All part of a lesson in submission.
The elder Williams' contentedly watch the varied activity on the beach. Mrs. Williams, apropos of nothing, remarks that Jane seemed rather upset over the weekend.
"She's at a funny age," states her husband. "A bit mixed up and doesn't really know what she wants. But don't worry, that's life. One moment you're all mixed up and the next, well there it is – just what you wanted, even though maybe you didn't realise it."
Mrs. Williams looks a bit baffled at this round-about logic. But maybe her husband is right. As he speaks, Jane is being firmly led to an upright chair. Then gently, but firmly, is bent down over it. The Major pulls up the silky dress and there is Jane's full, ripe bottom, submissively presented just as he desired.
Yes, perhaps Jane's father is right. Maybe she has found what she wanted. Major Kendall fondles the bare bottom, partly to reinforce his control over her. Then he takes up the cane and whips it down to land with a mighty Thwack! across the fullest part of Jane's backside.
Jane emits an involuntary yelp of pain, and there is an involuntary writhing of thighs and bared rear in response to the flaming pain.
Lowering the cane Major Kendall puts his hand gently on the sleek blonde head. "That's one, Jane. There are five more to come."
Her whole body is trembling. Stroking her hair he says, "You can take five more, now can't you!"
She stammers, "Y-Yes I think so." The cane stung ferociously and is still stinging like hell. But at the same time Jane is experiencing a rush of almost unbelievable arousal.
"Good!" says Major Kendall... and raises the cane again. Then brings it down with a whiiiip! – very hard indeed.
Yes, perhaps Jane has indeed found what she wanted... and needed.
* * *
That evening, after quickly scurrying up to her room and hiding the maid's uniform, Jane was visibly happier – causing her mother to remark on it.
Jane laughed, self consciously. "I don't know the reason, mom, I just feel sort of liberated some how."
And with that new found feeling of freedom she said she would go out to the town disco. It was the first time she had gone out on her own since she'd been dating Bob. And at the disco there was this man, young and rather attractive. She told him her name was Jane but she was deliberately vague about anything else. Afterwards, when the disco was over, he tried to persuade her to have sex. At first she said No, but he was persistent and she was still feeling very aroused so she agreed.
He drove out to the sea front and parked among the sand dunes, then he fucked her in the back seat of his car. She enjoyed it – but throughout her mind was on Major Kendall and his cane. Afterwards she surprised herself by not feeling particularly guilty. It was as if she'd suddenly grown up. She had never done it with anyone except Bob and they had been dating for more than a year. She felt open to new experiences and was revelling in the excitement. The boy wanted to drive her home but she told him to take her back to the disco where her father was picking her up. Would she see him again? Maybe, she said.
And what of Bob? Well, she had another whole week of her holiday first before she had to worry about that. Or more precisely, a week of Major Kendall and his cane. A week of that sickening excitement when she bent over, bared bottom waiting for its ferocious kiss.
And then what? That was enough for the present; right now Jane Williams didn't want to think any further ahead.
This story was scanned and prepared by Alex Birch.