by Helen Karol
Claire followed suit, but her fork froze on the way to her mouth. She remembered his reaction when she'd told him of Richard's suggestion she move in with him and the full import of Julian's words sank in. Quickly, she looked at his face, but it was emotionless, as if he’d merely commented on the weather and Claire didn't have the confidence to probe further. Instead, she began talking of the weather herself.
Chapter Six
After breakfast, they went for a walk on the beach, catching up on old news, closing the gap of the years she'd been away. On the way back to the house, Julian suggested driving down to Long Beach for lunch and spending the afternoon there.
"Sounds like fun. Should we change?"
He looked down. They’d walked barefoot along the shore with their jeans turned up at the bottom. Despite this, the cuffs of both had been soaked by the waves and when they sat down the sand stuck to the wet material. Claire followed his gaze and smiled ruefully.
"You're right," and then added challengingly. “Bet I can change faster than you."
He laughed. "As if any woman could change faster than a man."
"Well, we'll see about that!"
Catching him off guard, she pushed him and then tripped him, sending him sprawling on the beach. Then she dashed for the house intent on using her unfairly gained advantage. His cry of cheat reached her just before she entered the house. Chuckling merrily, she realized she hadn't felt this light-hearted for months, maybe even years. It struck her that she hadn't only missed the surf. She'd missed him.
Changing into light green slacks and a blouse in a small check of white and matching green, she decided to wear a light foundation to cover her untanned complexion. Blusher, eye shadow and lip-gloss completed her toilette and she joined Julian in the living room, who, despite her duplicity, had managed to dress ahead of her. He’d changed into beige slacks and a button down shirt of a deeper shade of green than her own clothes. A shade, she couldn't help noticing that exactly matched the color of his eyes. He stood up when she entered and looked at her in pretended fierceness.
"Minx. I ought to take you across my knee."
"Huh! You and whose army." She threw at him saucily to combat the hot flood of desire that coursed through her at his threat.
When he advanced purposely towards her, she gulped, her bravado deserting her. Squealing, she turned tail and fled in an attempt to reach the relative safety of his car. She wasn’t quick enough. His arms were around her before she was even halfway up the dining room steps. Lifting her off her feet, he pulled her back against him, his lips just behind her ear.
She felt his hot breath and heard his sexy growl mixed with amusement. “An army, huh? That’s big talk for a little minx. A very naughty, little minx who needs a lesson in fair play. You really shouldn’t throw out challenges like that, Claire. You ought to know it'll only get you in trouble.”
Claire squealed even more at his words. Partly with laughter, partly with a thrill of fear and definitely with a liberal dose of desire. Her whole body felt hot, her pulse throbbing at how much more closely this fit with her thoughts over dinner the night before. Not just a few swats this time, but a proper spanking across his knee. When other men threatened her teasingly this way, the result was a chase similar to this. None of them ended with the promised spanking. Instead, the roughhousing moved on to tumbled laughter and kissing. She enjoyed the kissing and what it led to, but always felt deflated when the desire aroused by the threat of the spanking was unfulfilled. She wasn’t sure if she’d feel the same desire if she was actually very soundly spanked, but as Julian held her close in his powerful arms, her heart pounded desperately with the hope that she was finally about to find out. Were those few smacks last night as far as he’d go? Would he follow through or would he just end this in laughter and a few kisses like the others?
Typically, Julian didn’t let her down. Before she knew it, he’d hoisted her over his shoulder and was carrying her purposely towards the couch. Remembering her feisty statement earlier, she figured she really should put up a bit of fight. Punching his back and kicking her legs, she berated him. “Julian West, don’t you dare! You can’t spank me again. Not like this. Don’t you dare put me across your knee. I'll never speak to you again! Not ever!”
He laughed outright as he sat down and arranged her across one knee, stilling her flailing legs by placing his leg across them. “Come on, Claire! We both know that's an idle threat. We're too solid for that.”
Lying prone across his knee, her body effectively under his control, Claire suddenly felt outrageously vulnerable. It was not at all the same as when she was standing against his car’s solid support for the smacking last night. She looked at the plush carpet beneath her gaze and wanted to be facing upright. Fantasy was one thing, reality quite another. She pushed upwards, trying to rise up from over his powerful thigh. Despite her sudden ambivalence, she found herself baiting him by throwing out another challenge guaranteed to seal her fate. “Julian! No! Don’t you dare! I mean it!”
“Too late, Claire.”
Claire tried another tactic. “No fair! This breaks our ‘no sexual stuff yet’ truce.”
“Give it up, Claire. You’re getting a spanking. I’ll take it easy seeing as how this is your first time across my knee.” His tone was still amused, but his arm across her back was intractable, his determination quietly steely. “And this doesn’t break our truce. Taking down your pants and spanking your bare bottom, now that would break our truce.”
Claire drew in her breath. The idea that he might spank her bare never occurred to her. She wriggled and bucked frantically while struggling with her deeply ambiguous emotions. On one hand, she felt desperate to avoid the spanking, while on the other she knew she’d be deeply disappointed if he backed down.
She soon realized that was not going to be an issue when the first spank landed. The blow took her breath away. She couldn’t hold in her surprise at how much it hurt, realizing now that he’d been pretty light with his spanks the night before. “Fuck, Julian! Is that what you call taking it easy!”
Julian tightened his arm around her waist and tipped her a little further over his knee. “Language, Claire. I can see you’ve picked up some bad habits in the Big Apple.”
He took note of her protest, however. Lightening the force of his blows considerably, he systematically applied a number of stinging spanks all over her upturned bottom in a leisurely, unhurried rhythm. Claire couldn’t help thinking it was so typical of him to deliver the smacks in such a measured manner. Starting at the top of her cheek he worked his way down in overlapping spanks all the way to the soft underside where bottom and thigh met. Spanking backwards and forwards rhythmically between each sit spot, he heated them enough to elicit a number of howls and bucking from her before working his way back up the other cheek in the same overlapping system. Then he repeated his journey only in an alternating pattern of spanks across both cheeks this time.
Humping and bucking across his thighs, she let out her breath and concentrated on coping with the heat building in her backside. Even through the cotton material of her pants, she felt the burn and not just in her buttocks. Her pelvis and pussy were hot and throbbing in cadence with his every smack. Just before it started to truly hurt, he stopped and ran his hand over her bottom. It was a simple, straightforward action, but on top of the heat from the spanking, it felt insidiously erotic. Claire bit her lip and tried not to moan too obviously.
After a few moments, he lifted her, sitting her on his lap. Amusement was rife in his tone and touch, but his arousal was abundantly clear. “Let that be a lesson to you, young lady. That should teach you not to assault me to gain an unfair advantage.”
Wriggling on his lap, she took satisfaction in the effect that had on his body. Nevertheless the playful nature of this spanking was uppermost. She stuck out her tongue and threw him a rebellious look. He laughed, kissed her pouting lips and then flipped her back across his knee. “Now, about your language.”
Claire ho
wled in protest repeating her futile warnings. He ignored her, spanking her more robustly this time focusing on the join between her bottom and thighs. Again, he let her up before it became too painful. Drawing them both to their feet, he sent her towards the garage with a powerful swat. “Out to the car, woman. I’ve worked up quite an appetite for lunch after that.”
“Brute.” She flung back at him as she flounced away towards the car rubbing her bottom.
“Brat.” He countered.
***
Their light-hearted mood continued over lunch as they baited one another and traded insults across the checkered tablecloth of the outside cafe. Claire decided to round off her meal with an ice cream cone, so they made their way along the wharf to the Baskin-Robbins concession.
Julian watched indulgently as she deliberated over her selection, his eyes on the cute bottom he'd enjoyed spanking not so long ago. He'd hoped she might have desires in that direction and the easy way they'd slipped into it was typical of the camaraderie that marked their relationship. It boded well for his plans. He was pleasantly aroused and agreeably satisfied by their light-hearted play that was more robust and yet not quite as sensual as the smacking last night. Both instances were so different from the first time he spanked Susanna. Like everything to do with his late wife, it was intense and overwhelming.
It was only a couple of weeks into their relationship. He'd woken in the early morning to find her gone from the bed. Pulling on his jeans, he'd walked out to the deck to see her coming out of the ocean. At first, he was too mesmerized by the sight of her voluptuous body to notice the red flags indicating it was unsafe. Watching her in the shapely one piece she wore for her daily swim, all he could think about were the things he'd done to her body the night before. She was beside him on the deck before it dawned on him. His hold on his temper was a lot weaker in those days, especially around her.
He stepped in front of her, his voice tight with fury. “Damn it, Susanna! We talked about this! Those flags are up for a reason!”
She laughed sweeping past him, attempting to deflect his temper with her condescension. “Don’t be silly, Julian. It's perfectly safe. I’ve been swimming in this part of the ocean since before you were born.”
That did it. It was bad enough she was risking her safety without trying to play the ‘before you were born card’. He caught up with her in the bedroom just as she stripped off her swimsuit. He was so overwhelmed by the terrifying image of her beautiful body caught in the ocean currents and battered against the rocks that he wasn’t even distracted by her nakedness. No way was he losing her over her stubborn disregard for danger. Acting instinctively, he lifted her in his arms, carried her over to the bed, sat down, hauled her across his lap and laid into her relentlessly. His hand hurt for hours afterwards and her beautiful bottom fared a lot worse. When he finally stopped spanking, she just lay across his lap, bawling her eyes out.
It was then it hit him that his impetuous action could totally screw up the best thing that ever happened to him. No matter how much she deserved it, she may well throw him out for this. Hell, she might even have him arrested. The state of her backside would certainly provide enough evidence. His heart in his mouth, he just looked down at her wondering what he should do. He wanted to take her in his arms to comfort her, but he feared her rejection. He thought maybe he should apologize, but that would defeat the whole purpose, rendering the spanking and her suffering pointless.
In the end, he risked her rejection and stood by his discipline. Taking her in his arms, he rubbed her back and held her tenderly while reinforcing his chastisement with a firm lecture. She buried her face in his shoulder and once she calmed down and stopped sobbing, offered a hiccupping apology. The punishment worked. From that day on, she never went in the water when the red flags were up.
The lovemaking that followed was even more profound and passionate than anything they'd shared so far. That night, she asked him to marry her. Ironically, considering Julian’s fears, the spanking was what decided her. She was used to everyone, especially men, kowtowing to her. She'd given up on finding a man who could rein her in. Gradually spanking and domination crept into their sex life and they enjoyed scening on occasion, but discipline was most powerful between them when he employed it as strict punishment. He lost count of the number of times he turned his headstrong wife across his knee for a severe spanking or ordered her into position across the back of the couch for a thorough strapping. There were even times when she was so willful he had to hold her, struggling rebelliously, face down on the bed to spank, paddle and belt her soundly, his arm aching, before she surrendered in pleading, remorseful sobs, promising to behave.
Looking back on it so many years later, it amazed him. He couldn’t imagine ever punishing Claire that severely. Not only had he repressed that intensity in his nature, but Claire was never likely to misbehave enough to warrant it. She was prone to tantrums and a bit careless at times, especially over locking doors and keeping track of keys, but in general, she was careful and well behaved. She was independent, but not headstrong like Susanna or likely to deliberately bait him, other than in fun as she did earlier. In the six years, they'd known each other there was hardly ever a cross word between them. The intimacy and familiarity of marriage would change that some he knew, but overall he expected spanking to be mostly playful and erotic between them. He imagined he might have to discipline her for real now and then, but he didn't anticipate the need to be severe with her.
***
Claire looked across at Julian and voiced her selection a second time. He was clearly elsewhere. She was quite capable of ordering and buying her own ice cream, but it was a long-standing ritual for him to supply this treat. She felt a silly desire to keep to it, especially on this first weekend together. Happily, he came to at her second request. After ordering and paying for the ice cream, he handed it to her with a tender look that told her this ritual was important to him as well. She was just about to thank him when an all too familiar voice rent the air and Claire was eternally grateful she'd changed her clothes.
The afternoon crowd parted and Andrea appeared in all her splendor. She was dressed in lavender slacks of the same style as Claire's, and looked just as good in them, regardless of the fact Claire knew her to be well over twenty years older than herself. Unlike Claire's, which were cotton, they were made from the same material as Andrea’s elegant, cream, silk blouse. Numerous gold chains adorned her neck, wrists and even her ankle. A pair of cream strappy sandals added to her already towering height, and the whole effect was regally capped by a silky scarf, in the same shade of lavender, woven through her smooth, platinum-colored hair. As usual, Andrea looked outrageously fabulous. She didn't look a day older than at their last meeting, two years ago in New York.
"Julian, I knew it was you, I'd know those curls of yours, anywhere."
Claire could've sworn she was going to ruffle his hair in much the same manner she would one of her three full-grown sons. It was amazing how such a maternal woman could dress in so unmatronally a fashion and get away with it. Andrea's attention was drawn away from Julian as she noticed Claire.
“Why it's Claire. I hardly recognized you. You're all grown up. Isn’t she, Julian?"
He handed Claire her ice cream (who fervently wished she'd chosen any flavors other than bubble-gum and tutti-frutti) and refrained from answering. He merely sent Andrea a warning look. A look missed by Claire. Andrea paid no attention.
"Of course she is. It's more than your hair, which really does suit you. You've acquired a New York polish, created your own style," and then she added with an emphasis and a pointed look at Julian. "Nobody would take you for a teenager now."
"I should hope not, I'm twenty-six." Claire replied and stuck her nose mutinously into her cone.
"Twenty-six, how time flies. Next we know you'll be married with babies. Won't she be, Julian?"
She looked at him quite pointedly and Claire could tell he was struggling not to laugh outri
ght. Really, she was incorrigible. Claire could tell he’d just decided to come to her rescue when he was forestalled by the appearance of Andrea's husband, Stephen, and their three-year-old granddaughter. The little girl squealed with delight at the sight of Julian and threw her arms around his legs, demanding to be picked up. After this'd been accomplished, she announced to all and sundry that he was her favorite person in the whole world, and then deflated this statement by qualifying it with. "Next to mommy and daddy and granny and grandpa ... "and after a slight pause added, almost apologetically,” ... and my baby brother Michael.”
Julian treated this obviously recent defection as it deserved, by tickling her. This procedure was greeted with squeals and chuckles and after a questioning look at Andrea, he treated her to an ice cream. To Claire's dismay, she chose the same combination as herself. She tucked into the offending article as the adults beamed at her, as adults tend to with children who are not their own. Having demolished a goodly portion, she stared at Claire and uttered a question with a forthright candor that marked her unerringly as Andrea's kin. "Who are you?"
Julian laughed indulgently. "Marcie, you should wait to be introduced, like a proper, young lady."
"Why," emitted the potential, proper, young lady, wiping her chin on his shirt. An exercise, to Claire's amazement, he completely ignored. "Oh alright, intra ... doose me then,” Marcie capitulated, her inexperienced tongue having a little difficulty with the word.
"Claire, I'd like you to meet Marcella Saunders. Marcie this is Claire Fitzpatrick, a very good friend.”
"How come I've never met you before, if you're Uncle Julian's friend?"
Good Lord, Andrea must be training her. "Because I've been away in New York."
"Oh." She accepted the explanation and returned to her cone, but first managed to wipe her sticky hands on Julian's hair.
