by Vicki Blue
“It’s you, isn’t it?” she asked. “You’re the nasty little pervert who wrote that vile stuff? Fine. I’ll just go to the board myself..”
Charlotte shook her head. “You’re the disgusting one,” she said. “All that time in church and you’re the most miserable, judgmental person I’ve ever met.”
“Ladies…” Mr. Longbride had entered the room. “That’s quite enough. I believe that I instructed everyone to put the matter behind them? And just so you know, Mrs. Forrester, I have spoken to the board and they quite agree with me. But feel free to stir up trouble if you like. Just remember that you don’t fall into your own brew.”
Sue Ellen stomped out, muttering angrily as she went.
“That was reckless,” he said.
“She doesn’t care,” Charlotte said.
“I was talking about you, Miss Tetter.”
“Me?” She looked up at him, stunned.
“Yes. You let her provoke you. I’m sure she suspects you. You’re single, attractive and have resisted the urge to attend her garden club and church. That alone has probably raise red flags for her.” He smiled a bit, and that helped put Charlotte at ease. But then he grew serious. “However, I gave orders for the matter to no longer be discussed and that applies to everyone. Miss Forrester will receive a written reprimand. But you…”
“Mr. Longbridge. I…”
“We don’t need to discuss this now. If I am correct, you have a class waiting?”
“Yes sir.” She turned away, deciding she could not ponder the headmaster’s veiled warning without becoming totally distracted. Her classroom was full of excitement when she arrived. Several mothers had come to help volunteer for the day’s events and the mood grew increasingly festive throughout the day.
The cafeteria had been decorated to look like a pilgrim village. Murals lined the walls and baskets of corn served as centerpieces on the lunch tables. The children had been allowed to dress as either Indians or Pilgrims for the day. Most of the boys had opted to be Indians and now ran around the cafeteria whooping war whoops as harried teachers sought to keep them in line. It was the noisiest and most adorable lunch period Charlotte had ever seen, and she was again thankful for her job.
After lunch, everyone headed to the auditorium. Charlotte and Sue Ellen Forrester got the kids ready for the play. The older woman was taciturn and when she did speak to Charlotte she was abrupt. Charlotte knew she was angry that things had not gone her way and resisted the urge to engage the older teacher whenever she made a snide remark. Instead, she concentrated on getting the kids ready for what she hoped would be an impressive performance.
And it was. Every single child remembered their lines. From behind the curtain, Charlotte smiled with appreciation as she watched the parents’ delighted reactions as they clapped or taped the performance. Her first year as Thanksgiving Play producer was turning out to be a complete success.
Afterwards parents and other relatives came up to congratulate her for a job well done. She hugged each of her students goodbye and wished them all a wonderful vacation. In their excitement, several had left their costumes lying on the floor and now she walked around picking them up. Sue Ellen Forrester announced that she would not be helping with the cleanup, and smirked as she left Charlotte to do it alone. But Charlotte didn’t care. Most of the teachers were leaving with the parents and she was alone, not that it mattered. There was no flight to rush for, no relatives to anxiously wait. The turkey and other preparations would be too much for just one person now. She decided she would fix the meal and then freeze portions for her school lunches, which meant she’d be eating her Thanksgiving dinner through Valentine’s Day.
A tear rolled down her face before she even realized she was crying. Charlotte wiped it away and sniffed.
“You should be cheering, young lady. Not crying. The play was wonderful.”
She startled. “I didn’t see you,” she said, wiping her face quickly again as she sniffled again.
“Apparently not. What’s wrong, Miss Tetter?”
“Oh, just…disappointment settling in. My mother and brother were supposed to come in tonight, but my aunt broke her foot and so they’re staying behind to help her.”
“So you’re alone?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Just me and a ten pound turkey.”
“Sounds like we’ve another thing in common,” he said. “I’m not much of a joiner, and with all my family being across the pond…”
“I’m surprised the parents aren’t fighting to have you at their table,” she said.
“I avoid that by making it clear that I cannot dine with parents on holiday,” he said. “I don’t want to give the appearance of favoritism.”
“I understand,” she said.
They grew quiet. “Miss Tetter,” he said. “How about we make a deal. How about you bring your turkey and - how do they put it here, ‘fixins',' to my house and we can have Thanksgiving dinner together?”
Charlotte stared at him, stunned. “Dinner? With you? Surely there are restrictions forbidding the headmaster from fraternizing with staff…”
“Curiously enough, there are not,” he said. “And even if there were, this whole business with you and your side occupation has caused me to think long and hard about what limitations this school places on its teachers. In fact, come the first of the year I believe I am going to approach the board and insist that if they are to continue such draconian policies prohibiting teachers from taking certain kinds of outside work, they should be prepared to pay a fairer wage.”
“You’d do that?”
“Certainly,” he said. “I may be strict, but I’m also fair as you will learn.”
She felt herself flush. “What time tomorrow?”
He pulled a notepad from his pocket. “You may come round at eleven if you like. We can cook together. It’s supposed to be cold. I’ll build a fire and we can enjoy one another’s company.”
She took the paper. “Thank you, Mr. Longbridge. I look forward to it…”
“As do I,” he said, and then nodded and left.
His car was still in the parking lot when she left. Charlotte resisted the urge to go by his office before leaving. She was awash in emotion - nervous, apprehension, elation. When writing her own story, she’d angrily told herself that there was no way the characters would actually get together. But now here she was, in her real-life version - and Mr. Longbridge had invited her to share Thanksgiving with him. But still she cautioned herself to be realistic. Perhaps he wanted to prove to her that even in the same house they’d just be cordial acquaintances. Perhaps this was just his way of reinforcing the boundaries before they came back to school. It wasn’t a date; it was just two adults without family enjoying the holiday together.
Still, she found it hard to sleep that night. Charlotte had spent some time before bed picking out an outfit to wear the following day and had chosen a fitted brown dress with cute, corset-style black lacing in the back and black trim, and a pair of black boots. She talked to her mother for an hour, assuring the guilt-laden woman that she was fine and would be having Thanksgiving dinner with “a co-worker.” She talked to her brother, who made her laugh with his impressions of their relatives in Jersey.
It was the first good night’s sleep she had in a while. The next morning she loaded her car and pulled into Mr. Longbridge’s driveway fifteen minutes past eleven, having gotten slightly lost in his neighborhood.
His house was a tidy Tudor-style home. The lawn was immaculate. He was waiting for her outside when she pulled up and helped Charlotte unload the car. They made small talk in the kitchen as he helped her prepare the turkey and stuffing. Charlotte used an old recipe her father had passed on to her that included bread, raisins, chestnuts and oysters.
When the turkey was in the oven, Nigel Longbridge led her into the living room. It was tidy, with classic furnishings. It was very masculine décor. On the wall were pictures from his village back home, his family. There were pictu
res of him as a younger man riding horses and playing rugby with friends, pictures of him hunting.
“I came from a big family,” he said. “My father was head of the house, very old-fashioned. I’m a lot like him. My mum was old-fashioned, too. I’ve been keen to find a woman with her values.” He looked over at her. “It’s difficult, you know.”
Charlotte said nothing as she took a sip of her drink. What she wanted to say was, “I’m that woman…”
“Now then,” he said. “We have something to discuss, right?”
The question confused her. “We do?”
“Indeed,” he said. “My rules. At school yesterday you broke them again.”
“Mr. Longbridge…”
“Nigel,” he said. “I believe for today we can dispense with formalities. You may call me Nigel and I shall call you Charlotte. It’s such a pretty name.”
“Thank you,” she said nervously. “But given that we’re not at work, could we not discuss the rules?”
“I’m afraid we must,” he said. “Because the consequences for you are different than they are for other teachers.” He paused. “Tell me, Charlotte. How much time did you spend thinking about the time you spent over my desk yesterday?”
She flushed scarlet. “I didn’t…”
“Don’t lie,” he said.
“I thought of it a lot.” The words rushed out. “Constantly, almost. For so long I’ve…”
“And did it measure up to your expectations?”
“It hurt worse than I thought it would,” she said. “But at the same time it was….”
“Go on…”
“I felt safe, cared for. I know I’m grown up and I’m not supposed to crave having someone correct me. But I have and the punishment made me fear disappointing you. But it made me feel that you…” She put her drink down and put her fingers to her temple. “Mr…I mean, Nigel. I’m not sure I can discuss this with you, sir. I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing.”
“If you are honest, what you say will not be wrong,” he coaxed. “Go on.”
“It made me feel that you cared,” she said softly, her voice quavering with emotion.
“If I made you feel that way, it’s because I do care,” he said. “You’re a good teacher, Charlotte, and there’s something about you that invites protection and guidance from the kind of man who wants to offer it.” He cupped her chin in his hand. “A man like me…” He laughed. “My god, woman. Do you know how badly I want to kiss you now? But first things first.” He stepped back and took her hand. She followed him to the couch. He sat down and looked up at her.
“Do you trust me, lass?”
She nodded. Her heart was thumping.
“It won’t be as bad as the cane. Just a wee spanking to remind you not to let that old harpy at work get under your skin, hm?”
Charlotte nodded, unable to speak and allowed herself to be laid across his lap. Nigel Longbridge’s thighs were firm beneath her belly. She felt his hand lift the hem of her dress. She’d worn skimpy white satin panties; perhaps somehow she’d known he’d see them. His hand roamed her bottom now, rubbing the springy flesh. She did not struggle.
“There will be twenty,” he said.
She gasped a little. It seemed like so many. He did not start off very hard, but with alternating blows that increased in tempo and force until she went from yelping to moaning to crying little choked sobs that he found exceedingly charming. Charlotte squirmed on his lap but did not try to rise or cover herself as he spanked her methodically. Several of the blows landed on the bare skin of her bottom not covered by the thin triangle of fabric. She cried out loudly when those blows fell, and he rubbed her bum and waited until she composed herself to continue. When it was over, her bottom was moderately sore. He lifted her to sitting in his lap and wiped the tears away.
“There, there now,” he said soothingly. “That wasn’t too terribly bad, was it?”
“It hurt,” she said.
“Not as much as one for a real transgression, as I’m sure you’ll find out. And at some point I know you will, for try as you might there will be times when I’ll find you in need of correction. Can you live with that?”
She smiled. “Live with it?”
“Yes,” he said. “I suspect that we will be spending a good deal of time together outside of school, unless you object.”
“No,” she said. “I don’t object. In fact, I was just thinking…”
“What were you thinking, Miss Charlotte Tetter?”
She smiled again, wiping her eyes as she did. “I’m thinking that I was worried this was going to be the worst, loneliest Thanksgiving ever, when it’s turned out to be the best and most interesting.”
Pulling her to him, he kissed her.
“That makes two of us,” he said.
The End
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Vicki Blue
Tattletale
***** Great story about a nosey reporter who gets her just deserts. There is a really good plot filled with blackmail and excitement and yes spankings.
***** Good plot with this story. Lots of action and excitement and of course a heroin that gets a well deserved spanking. Thanks :)
Heartfield – The Investigation
***** Very good start to the series! Karen Patterson is given a job to go undercover into the intentional community of Heartfield to find out if all the rumors are true that woman are being brain washed and abused by the men. Ann-Marie Fales’ family believes that is what has happened to her because why else would she run away from a lucrative job and family to be a farmer. Karen is not really sure what to expect inside and she certainly never planned on liking what she found but she does.
***** Yes, this is quite the story. Love the plot! Nice suspense and drama. I personally would have liked a few more spanking scenes but I still give it a five. Can't wait to read number two.
The Definitive Vicki Blue
***** These are four of Vicki Blues shorter stories all in one great package. You have everything from a cowboy, a corporate trouble-shooter, a married couple who are both cops and a newspaper editor. They all have one thing in common, bratty women and their men who know just how to make them start towing the line. Great stories all of them.
Different Strokes
***** Vicki has become one of my favorite authors. I love the way she writes. She always does such a good job of
making her DD scenes exciting but very loving. I always have trouble putting her books down once I start them.
***** What a great little book! I loved the storyline: two couples on ‘trading spouses’. A very sweet, quick read with a very good lesson for all characters involved. Loved it!
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