French Lessons

by Georgia Harries

  The Walkers smiled and held hands.

  “Go for it, Eleanor,” Tamara winked at her again. Getting up from the table, Eleanor rushed to her father’s side. This time he accepted her in his arms for the biggest, warmest hug they’d shared in years.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy,” Eleanor whispered against her father’s strong, broad chest.

  “I know, my darling,” he held her tight. “And I’m sorry that I had to spank you. But I’m not at all sorry I did it. So let’s make sure young lady, that it’s the last time, eh?” He looked down at her smiling. Eleanor nodded, feeling at peace at last.

  The last twenty–four hours had all been so exhausting Eleanor ruminated, as she worked her way through her little cabin wardrobe. She wondered which of her many evening outfits she should choose for dinner, especially with the possibility of Charlie being there. She couldn’t help but rehearse the next scene with him in her head. What if he didn’t really like her, after all? Having had time to think about her behaviour and what she had put him through, maybe she would be the very last person he wanted to see. But he was so very handsome. And she could not forget the thrill of feeling his sturdy arm lift her out from the water. He was so tall, so strong. And he’d done all his studying abroad so he must be clever, too. Eleanor decided to make a real effort. She’d spend the day getting ready, and see if Tamara’s ointment might not help with the more immediate problem of her red–hot bottom. Then she could head up to The Grand as the day wound down.

  She lay face down on her bunk bed. Gingerly, she slid down the sailing shorts and knickers. She rubbed her bottom once again, feeling the roughness where the shoe had done its very worst in Daddy’s hand. Unscrewing the stylish little pot of cream, she took in the sharp, clean aroma of real peppermint. Carefully, she dipped her hand and then as best she could, applied some of the lotion behind her to her right cheek. At first touch, it was deliciously cold and numbing. It felt so soft as she rubbed and rubbed, letting it ease some of the awful hot soreness. Even the smell of the peppermint was a pleasing comfort.

  Eleanor stood and stepped out of her shorts. With her back to the wardrobe mirror, she examined her bottom once more. It was still badly marked, and she felt woefully childish again as she remembered exactly how it had got that way. Then using both hands dipped in the minty lotion, she began to massage herself deeply. She closed her eyes as the powerful substance worked its way into her skin. Around and between her two cheeks, Eleanor explored and grew confident. Her fingers felt easy and playful. The peppermint was working, almost freezing a lot of the nasty, sore heat away. She thought about Charlie. How he had touched her and held her hand, the alarming terror of hitting the water only to see his concerned face as she soon as she surfaced, and feel his strength and courage as he reached for her.

  Lying back down, Eleanor thought how very much she longed to kiss a man properly. She loved spending long hours in the cinema and had seen countless passionate love scenes. Rock Hudson, James Dean, and Clark Gable – such magnificent heroes, so powerful and chivalrous! She wanted to feel the kind of long kisses they gave their women on the screen. Would Charlie ever kiss her? Like that, all wide–mouthed with their eyes closed?

  She lay on her side and raised her knees, continuing to rub her bottom and feeling the effects of the spanking gradually ease a little more. Her fingers wandered down between her legs, almost without her noticing that they had done so. As she thought about the possibility of Charlie’s kiss, Eleanor felt a sudden dampness from her secret girlish spot. It was comforting, exciting, and delightful. The heat from her buttocks throbbed in time to her moving fingers. How strange and yet not unpleasant.

  Thinking of Tamara’s regretful admissions earlier, Eleanor took the greatest comfort now in knowing that for sure, Daddy loved her. Nestling down in her pink silk quilt, she carried on rubbing a little. Then she closed her legs tight around her hand, as she let her fingers wander a little inside her secret place, for the very first time in her life. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine Charlie’s face. These new, strong feelings were bizarre, yet so calming. Oh please, let Charlie touch her again, hold her, kiss her ... and touch her where no man had ever touched her before.

  Up on deck, the staff of the Eleanor–Jane chattered excitedly about the lavish dinner Monsieur Walker had ordered them to prepare. They were intrigued by his instruction to include the young Mr. Hetherington at the table. Miss Walker had been suitably punished for her dreadful behaviour he had informed them all briefly, without going into any of the details they had already guessed. Harry was adamant that there should be no further reference to the events of the day before. Every effort was to be made to make young Hetherington as welcome as possible. Fabien then repeated the same sentiment to his staff in the galley, as each was dispatched with a task in advance of what simply had to be a perfect evening. In her cabin, Eleanor finally selected a tight–fitting, dove grey dress. Ankle–length, the silk bespoke piece showed off her blonde curls wonderfully. Despite her throbbing seat under her dress and knickers, Eleanor allowed herself a contented smile in eager anticipation of seeing Charlie Hetherington again.

  An hour before dinner was due to be served, Eleanor kissed her father and Tamara cheerily as she prepared to make her way up to The Grand. She promised them both she’d be back in good time, and hopefully with Charlie in tow.

  “Good girl,” said her father, hugging her. “Do you feel any better, my darling?” he patted her bottom very gently through her dress.

  “A little, Daddy. Tamara helped,” she smiled shyly at her stepmother.

  “I’m pleased to hear it,” Harry grinned. “Off you go now. And do be good, please!” Eleanor had absolutely no intention of being anything other than good as gold. She swung her pink rose–clap clutch bag by her side, as she all but ran up the hill.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Drawing admiring glances from everyone in sight, Eleanor waltzed confidently into The Grand and straight up to the bar. Before the maître d’ could utter a single word, she had apologised. In relatively unbroken French, she told him she was extremely sorry for her rudeness on the occasion of her previous visit. The fact was that word of her punishment had drifted even as far as the hotel itself.

  The waiters had concurred that Harry Walker really was quite a magnificent chap, deserving of his enormous success. His old–fashioned disciplining of his daughter had clearly worked. They were forced to smile acceptingly back at her, so charming and beautiful was the little Walker lady – when sober and sensible like this.

  “And tell me please, do you know if Mr. Hetherington is in the hotel at the present moment?” Eleanor asked Lefour.

  “He certainly is,” a strong voice came from behind her. Eleanor turned to find Charlie standing before her, a casual grin lighting up his deep blue eyes. He was already dressed for evening. His dark tuxedo looked quite perfect, against the backlight of the fiery Mediterranean sunset from the windows beyond. His black hair glistened with oil and there were those wicked blue eyes dancing. Eleanor could barely disguise a gasp. He was utterly divine.

  “Miss Walker. I am charmed. Will you join me for a glass of champagne? Robert, you’ll find us in my suite. The air should be wonderful from the balcony right now.” He took Eleanor’s arm without a word.

  Eleanor was left speechless by his suave command of the situation. Within seconds, he had led her upstairs to the first floor suites. Now she thrilled to the luxury of his penthouse overlooking the harbour. The balcony doors were wide open to the sweet evening sea air, just exactly as he had promised.

  As they waited for their drinks to arrive, they selected a jazz record together. He left it playing quietly on the gramophone in the corner. They then wandered out to the balcony to savour the last of the daylight.

  “Daddy would like you to join us for dinner, Mr. Hetherington.” Eleanor tried her best to sound nonchalant about the invitation, while willing him to accept it.

  “How lovely! And it’s Charlie, as you very we
ll know. I think we can dispense with formalities given everything that happened yesterday, don’t you?”

  She blushed. Charlie was in his stride.

  “You are really a very lovely girl, Eleanor Walker. If terribly thoughtless and very, very naughty,” he smiled in his irresistibly warm and seductive voice. “Jumping in the sea like that – bravo!” He clapped, and Eleanor felt instantly mocked, and irritated. Why was he such a teaser?

  He turned away to let the waiter in, leaving her no room to retort. She was terrifically impressed with the ease at which he spoke French. He joked cordially with the waiter and was clearly accustomed to drinking vintage champagne. While she, as they both knew only too well, was not. The waiter left, beaming at the generous gratuity from Hetherington. For a few long moments, Charlie said nothing at all. But she could feel his eyes upon her, as she pretended to be enjoying the view. The evening had started so very well, and she didn’t want any more chiding or reference to yesterday.

  At last, Charlie spoke.

  “Shall we sit down, Mam’selle?” he asked and gestured to a little table on the balcony. An ivory candle in an old wine bottle gave off an inviting glow. Beyond the balcony, the water in the bay was turning a faint shade of pastel pink. The quickly setting sun slid languidly behind the Monaco hills.

  “I’d rather – I’d rather stand,” said Eleanor quietly. He was teasing her again, the pig! But Charlie had not been goading her. It was not until that moment that he wondered if she really was unable, and not unwilling, to sit down. Had her father punished her that hard? Certainly some of the crewmembers had mentioned a “right row” going on from his bureau. And they knew she had been sent to bed directly afterwards. She now looked so small and vulnerable in the dying light. He could well imagine that a good spanking from a man of Harry Walker’s stature would have been very sorely felt. Tentatively, he took Eleanor’s hand.

  “Come on. Let’s try...” and led her to the table. Discreetly, he picked up a silk cushion. From the Riviera Bar below came the chatter and laughter of guests enjoying their sundown drinks. Inside the room, fast American jazz was playing. Charlie placed the cushion on the Paris style cafe chair.

  “Have a go...” he said, proffering the seat.

  Eleanor pouted, then stooped to meet the chair. Her stiff, steadily aching bottom was now something she was used to. As it made contact with the soft cushion, she eased down slowly. Charlie processed it all. She’d been bared, no doubt about it. Good for Walker!

  “Well, those were certainly pretty high tricks of yours yesterday, eh?” he grinned. “I imagine your father was far from pleased. Do I detect that he perhaps gave you something to remind you to behave?” Charlie glanced at the lower half of Eleanor’s body as she shifted uncomfortably on her seat.

  “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” she said ruefully, toying with her champagne glass.

  “It doesn’t take the biggest brain to work out that your father saw fit to turn you over his knee,” Charlie smiled. “Any decent father would have done exactly the same thing. What on earth were you thinking of, Eleanor?” He was more serious now.

  “Please don’t be mean about it!” Eleanor implored. “I just had a bit too much to drink and I wasn’t thinking. Daddy was horribly cross. At first I thought he was joking. But he wasn’t. And – and then he really was most severe with me. Oh, it was just beastly!”

  Charlie laughed.

  “Oh you silly girl! You thoroughly deserved it. And it looks like you’ll have a few days to think on it too, given your reluctance to sit down...” he only half concealed a broad grin.

  Eleanor was thoroughly embarrassed. But there was little point in trying to hide it, she supposed. And she did love the way his eyes twinkled when he laughed.

  “It hurts very much so,” she squirmed a little on the chair. “It felt most horribly childish. I’m nineteen, after all.” She sat back and winced a little, as Charlie took a sip of the ice–cold champagne. He refused to take her side, seeing that in fact it took very little to provoke her childishness.

  “Well, you should have thought of that before you misbehaved like a toddler. And I have to say if you were my daughter, or even my sister, I’d have done exactly the same thing myself. And given it to you damned hard, too...” his voice grew quieter as he studied her up and down.

  Eleanor was now utterly indignant, and red–faced. She had wanted a quiet, sophisticated drink with him to make up for the disaster of the first time. Now he too was talking to her as though she were a three year old!

  “You needn’t begin a lecture, Hetherington,” Eleanor rounded on him,

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve apologised to my father. And to my stepmother. And I would now like that to be the end of it, if you don’t mind.”

  “So you see no need to apologise to me?” Charlie narrowed his eyes.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Eleanor grew exasperated.

  “It was down to me to drag you out of the sea, wasn’t it? Believe me, I thought twice about bothering after the way you spoke to us all. Your mouth can be really rather unattractive, Eleanor.”

  “Oh stuff and nonsense!” said Eleanor. She stood up and waltzed off towards the balcony edge, champagne glass in hand. “I was only having fun!”

  “It wasn’t fun for anyone but you, Missy,” said Charlie. “And I’ll remind you that you very nearly got me into serious trouble. Not just with the hotel staff here, but by giving a dreadful first impression to your father. I take great exception to that.”

  Charlie now fixed her with a steely gaze.

  Eleanor was flabbergasted. Who did Charles Hetherington think he was? He had no business speaking down to her when he was barely a few years older than her.

  “My father has far greater things to think of, than you!” she scoffed.

  “Why should you care what he thinks of you in any case? You’ve all the money in the world yourself. We’re just social climbers, the likes of you no doubt thinks!” she lowered her voice, suddenly seeing that Charlie was not at all pleased. Eleanor reminded herself that this was his hotel room, and he had influence in the place. She wasn’t actually sure what she had meant with that last particular outburst, and now she hated to see him look cross and even a little saddened. Charlie was having none of it.

  “Oh, enough of your chip–on–shoulder nonsense, you daft chit. I don’t give a stuff about bloody money, and I never have done. I can see the same is true of your father. Otherwise he’d have ruined you with it, instead of making you mind your manners and putting you over his knee when you need it. And I care very much what he thinks of me, as it happens. I care, since I intend to be spending a great deal more time with his precious daughter. But she had best mind her tongue. Let me tell you something else, Miss Walker. Your father and I share pretty tight opinions when it comes to how to deal with naughty girls.”

  Eleanor flushed a deep pink once more, her innate fiery spirit rising in her. The mixed emotions of the last few days were becoming too much altogether. All of a sudden she wanted nothing more than to run away after all, and be on her own. She turned round, her eyes flashing at Charlie.

  “We’ll see about that! I choose my own company, thank you very much! You’re nothing but a giddy playboy, that’s all. And don’t you talk about my father as if you know the first thing about him. You couldn’t care less about me, or my feelings. “ Her voice cracked. Eleanor was acutely aware that she didn’t really mean that in the slightest, and regretted it as soon as the words were out of her carefully painted lips.

  “Really?” said Charlie quietly. “Who was it that fished you out of the water when you fell over the side of the yacht, in a drunken tantrum, eh? Who was it that saved you from a far worse fate than the very well–spanked bottom you find it so impossible now to sit on?”

  Eleanor felt tears of rage and self–pity well up, as she remembered the horror of the plunge overboard. Hearing Charlie use the very words that reduced her once again to a
helpless child, she boiled over.

  “Well you know what? I wish you’d left me there!” she yelled loudly. “I wish you’d just left me to drown, yes! Saved me from having to be here with you all and put up with this – this – wretched, miserable bullying! I hate you all!”

  Eleanor’s tears spilled over. Enough, Charlie thought, was more than enough.

  “OK, Miss Walker,” he said, flat calm. “It is quite obvious to me that you have no intention of apologising to me. One would have thought you’d have learned your lesson. But if that is not the case...” he advanced towards her slowly, rolling up the right sleeve of his fine thick silk jacket. Eleanor drew back on the balcony. She looked quickly to his left to make sure she could make a bolt for the door if necessary. But Charlie had all of that well covered.

  “So no–one loves you, eh? Your father giving you a warmed seat wasn’t enough to convince you, was it? Well, it looks to me like you need another stiff lesson in decency. And there’s no time like the present.”

  Eleanor’s heart fluttered as he advanced to within an inch of her.

  “Don’t you dare touch me, you hear?” she tried to snap but her voice trembled.

  It was as though Charlie had heard nothing. He snatched away her champagne glass and deposited it on the balcony wall. Before she could move an inch, Charlie gripped Eleanor tight by the upper arm. He began to march her over to the cast iron bench by the balcony wall.

  “Let go of me!” Eleanor hissed “You’re hurting me!”

  “I am indeed,” said Charlie as he tightened his grip. “And it doesn’t stop here, Eleanor–Jane Walker. You are about to learn that it is not only cross Daddies who believe in hot bottoms for rough–mouthed little girls. You will apologise!”

  “How dare you talk to me like that!” Eleanor was aghast. She tried her best to wrest away from his hard grip.

  In a flash, Charlie sat down hard on the iron bench. He yanked Eleanor down roughly right across his knee, and hauled up her long grey evening dress to her waist. She writhed in shock and fury. What on earth – this could not be happening!