Читать книгу Shadow Lane Volume 9: The History of Hugo Sands and other Stories of Spanking and Love - Eve Howard - Страница 9
ОглавлениеChapter One The Summer of Love
In the Summer of 1967, Veronica and Virginia Grady were sharing a walk-up in an old brownstone on Charles Street, Beacon Hill, while Virginia completed her senior year at Boston University and Veronica earned excellent wages as a legal secretary in Back Bay.
One Saturday afternoon, Veronica returned to their apartment laden with packages from Bonwit Teller, where she habitually left most of her paycheck. On the way home she’d stopped at a salon and had her long, brown hair blown dry straight with bangs, and looking as smart as possible, ran upstairs and entered the flat, from which the aroma of baking and other sweet organic scents wafted and strange, wild, electric guitar music emanated.
All of this was normal. Virginia always found the best music, baked the best brownies and stockpiled the best weed in the commonwealth. But when Veronica entered the tiny, two bedroom flat an entirely incongruous image confronted her, in the person of Virginia, lying face down on their oriental divan, with a large icepack perched atop her skirted bottom.
“What’s going on?” Veronica said, sitting down on a loveseat with her packages. “What’s that record? Why the icepack? Did you fall down the stairs again? They’re so dangerous! I can’t wait to show you what I bought.” And she proceeded to unpack her various bags, noticing the peace sign that Virginia had taken with her to the demonstration that morning propped up against the wall.
“It’s Hendrix, on a cutout album from England. You’ll never believe what happened to me,” said Virginia with animation, tossing the icepack aside and sitting up. She was a lissome blonde in a pink midriff top, a print gauze skirt and sandals that laced to her knees. “On my way to the State House I passed a marine recruitment office, manned by this stereotypical jarhead who seemed bored, so I thought, here’s a chance to have some fun.”
“Fun with a marine? That doesn’t sound like you.”
“You know I have eclectic tastes,” Virginia rejoined, then continued, “Well, I started out by just looking in the window, smiling at him and letting him ogle my bosom.” Virginia paused to light a bong, draw on it and inhale deeply.
“Then what happened?” Veronica asked, taking the pipe from her.
“Then I went and got my sign and began to march back and forth in front of the window.”
“Jesus, Virginia!” Veronica laughed.
“I know it was mad, but I couldn’t resist. Well, naturally he came out and asked me what the hell I thought I was doing? But before I’d even drawn a breath to answer, this righteous defender of the military industrial complex starts telling me to move along or else. Or else what? I challenge, gratified by the shade of brick red he’s starting to turn under his tan. God, he was pissed at me,” Virginia laughed.
“So then what happened?” Veronica asked, finally expelling her long held breath. She pulled the white zip, micro-mini dress out of the Bonwit’s bag and held it up to herself. “How do you like this?”
“I love it, but just listen to this. Guess what this joker says next?”
“Tell me.”
“He threatens to spank me!”
“He what???”
“I knew that would get your attention.”
“Why do you know that?” Veronica reddened.
“I’ve read all your Grove Press novels. Your Man With A Maid. Your Frank and I. Your Sadopaidea. I know what you’re into.”
“So you’re saying that he spanked you? Right there in the street?”
“I really should have beat a retreat but I was having too much fun baiting him. We got into this argument about me not showing proper respect for the corps and after that it was mere seconds until he lost it.”
“So he spanked you?”
“Wait a minute, let me change the record and I’ll show you,” said Virginia, eagerly exchanging Are You Experienced for Surrealistic Pillow on the turntable. “You have to hear this one too.”
“Oh, White Rabbit. I’ve heard that one. It’s great. Show me what?”
“Look at this,” said Virginia, pulling up her skirt and displaying her skimpily pantied bottom cheeks to her sister. “Can you see how pink I am? And this happened at least an hour ago.”
Veronica saw that her sister’s bottom blushed radiantly pink from hip to hip.
“He really spanked you in the street? Over his knee?”
“Oh it was horrible,” Virginia laughed. “First of all, it hurt like fuck all, and then I absolutely hated myself for getting excited.”
“Excited? You got excited? Where do you come off getting excited? I’m the one who’s into it!” Veronica protested.
“It must have been a direct result of reading those books,” Virginia admitted.
“So who broke it up?”
“No one. He spanked me until he got tired. And that took a while. We collected quite a crowd of horny guys spilling out of the bar across the street to watch. I probably would have cried if I wasn’t so damned stoned, but I’d dropped half a tab of acid before I left the house and it started kicking in half way through the spanking. Weirdly, in my mind I eroticized the whole thing while it was happening and actually started humping his lap. I swear I felt his hand going between my legs for a second too. But then again, I may have imagined that.”
“Jesus, is it still coming on?”
“You bet it is.”
“Then what happened?”
“Then I made the mistake of looking into the face of the crowd and that was a lot more frightening than the Sergeant. That made me cry. Especially when they started sprouting tentacles, fins, claws, scales and jack in the box heads.”
“You know you should never drop acid when you’re going to be in an insecure environment. What’s the matter with you?’
“Do you see how red I still am?” Virginia pulled her tiny panties up between her cheeks to fully display her pinkened bottom.
“Ginny, don’t you know any better than to fuck with a marine?”
“I like fucking with marines. They always know how to use condoms,” Virginia blithely replied, pulling several other mini dresses out of Veronica’s shopping bag and holding them up to herself in the mirror.
“So, where did you say this recruitment center was?” Veronica asked idly.
“On Charles Street, just before you get to Beacon, across from the pub. Why, what are you going to do?” asked Virginia, following Veronica into the front bedroom.
“So how old was this spanking marine?”
“Hard to tell. Maybe thirty-five or even forty.”
“Cute?” Veronica went behind a painted screen to exchange her jeans for the white dress.
“Would I get in grabbing distance of someone who wasn’t?” Virginia retorted, opening the bedroom windows wider, as it seemed to be getting hotter and more humid as the afternoon waned.
“Are you going out tonight?”
“Yes,” replied Virginia, “to see a foreign film in Cambridge. Want to come?”
“No thanks. Stay out late, okay?”
“Veronica, what ever you’re thinking, you’d better reconsider,” Virginia cautioned. “Spanking may be fun to fantasize about, but I found out that in reality, it hurts!”
“Mmmmm, you poor thing,” Veronica ignored her sister while regarding her freshly frocked form in the full-length mirror. “Somehow it seems so cosmically wrong that you were the one to get spanked. Do you think this intuitive person has more than one spanking in him, or did you use it all up?”
“Are you kidding? He was getting off on it. I could feel!” Virginia asserted, leaning out the windowsill and gazing down on cobble-stoned Revere Street below. “In a big way too,” Virginia added.
About an hour later in the Charles Street Pub, Sgt. Flagg wondered what it was about him that day that suddenly pretty young women were flirting with him on first sight. First there had been the blonde brat with her peace sign, insolently baiting him until he had no choice but to turn her over his knee, which event had been remarkably enhanced by being witnessed by ten rowdily enthusiastic onlookers pouring out of this bar. Now, here was a delectable brunette in the shortest skirt he’d ever seen, perched on a stool not five steps away and looking straight into his eyes in a way that could not be misinterpreted.
On the way over to talk to the girl in the white dress and high-heeled sandals, the sergeant was stopped to have his hand shaken vigorously by two different imbibers, in two different states of inebriation.
“What was that all about?” Veronica asked him as he slid onto the vacant stool beside her.
“Oh, they’re just wise guys,” said the weather-beaten marine, extending his rough hand to shake her small, well manicured one. “Doug Flagg,” he said.
“Veronica Grady,” she replied, allowing him to squeeze her hand briefly.
“What are you drinking?”
“Cosmopolitans,” she replied.
“What the hell are those?”
“Martinis.”
“May I join you?” he asked politely.
“Of course. I’ve been trying to catch your eye.”
“Why’s that?” he asked, hailing the bartender to ask for another tequila and beer chaser for himself and a second Cosmo for the girl.
“I can’t resist a uniform.”
After that the conversation flowed rapidly back and forth with all the ease of confident flirtation. Veronica’s long legs were tanned and bare and her toenails painted dark red to match her fingernails and lips. Whenever she shook back her hair it fell into place perfectly. Her teeth were very white and she smiled a good deal. She seemed to get drunk fast and laughed at all his jokes accordingly. The looser she became, the less the wise Doug drank, leaving his last tequila on the bar before they emerged onto Charles Street in the heavy, humid dusk of evening.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “Because I live very close by and I have an ice box full of food.”
“Are you inviting me to dinner?” he asked, startled to make this sort of impression on such a fresh, pretty, well dressed and well spoken young lady.
“Pot luck,” she explained with a grin, “but I think you’ll be satisfied.”
They walked the two blocks to Revere Street and then upstairs to the flat in the old brick building. Veronica sat Doug down at the small round table in the tiny kitchen and quickly laid out a spread of cold lamb sandwiches on crusty Italian bread, homemade potato salad and coleslaw, cranberry relish and a good red wine. Her guest was overwhelmed but immediately did justice to the simple repast thinking how much more pleasant this was than waiting for a table in a crowded restaurant on a busy Saturday night.
Even with two fans blowing directly on them, it was oppressively hot in the small apartment, especially after eating and drinking. Veronica encouraged him to loosen his collar and even take off his stiff white shirt. Stripped to his pants and sleeveless tee, the Viet Nam veteran was impressively lean and muscular and his hostess admired his ripped abs and tablet pecs accordingly.
They took their wine and crawled out the kitchen window onto the roof from which many assorted vistas and rooftops were visible including a sliver of the Charles in the dark. A nearby radio was blasting Take It As It Comes and Veronica made him get up and dance with her. They held hands and twisted to the music.
“This song makes me want to have sex,” Veronica confided. Doug looked at her and marveled at how much girls had changed in the few years he’d been out of the country. For example, favors one had to practically stand on one’s head and beg for in the early sixties were now apparently bestowed as a matter of course on the most casual acquaintance. And then of course the immense innovations of the mini skirt and noticeably absent brassiere had done even more to slide the pedestal out from under the modern American girl.
The next thing Veronica knew, she was being pulled back into the apartment, where she presently found herself sitting on his lap, with her arms wound around his neck and his tongue exploring her mouth. Under her trim, firm bottom she could feel his excitement swell and she did not scruple to make matters worse by wriggling against and bouncing up and down on the truncheon like form through their clothes. Then she was being carried into her small bedroom, carefully undressed and thoroughly made love to in three or four positions until the leathery soldier finally allowed himself to expire in her embrace.
“You didn’t come,” he accused a few minutes later, as they put themselves back together and went out into the kitchen, their appetites stimulated by their exertions.
“It takes more than fortitude to make me come,” she explained, setting the plate of brownies on the table beside a jug of milk.
“What does it take?” he asked, consuming the first brownie in a few bites and washing it down with milk.
“Maybe I’ll tell you later,” she said, pulling on a pair of short denim shorts and a dark red halter-top with a pair of denim espadrilles that laced to the ankle.
Sitting down to her milk, Veronica took her first bite of brownie as Doug demolished his second cake and reached for a third. Chewing thoughtfully she said, “Uh oh. I just realized something. Don’t finish that,” she said, an instant too late.
“Why not? I don’t usually eat sweets, but these are great.”
“You don’t want to eat too much on a hot night,” she said, sweeping the plate back into the refrigerator. “Listen, why don’t we go out for a walk in the public gardens?”
“Sure!” he said agreeably and went to put on his clothes.
Walking through the small parlor en route to the bedroom he paused to look at some of the framed photos on the bookshelves.
“Ronnie, who is this girl with you?” Doug demanded, bringing one of the photos back into the kitchen with him. Veronica turned from the sink where she was quickly washing and drying their plates to regard the photo of herself and Virginia that he was brandishing before her.
“Oh, that’s my sister, Virginia. Isn’t she pretty?”
“You’re not going to believe this, but I had a run in with her today at the recruitment office,” he admitted.
“Really? What kind of run in?” Veronica affected amazement.
“Let’s just get out of here before she gets home,” he recommended.
Once they were out on the street, where it was but a few degrees cooler than indoors, Veronica pressed her new escort for details.
“You’re going to hate me when I tell you.”
“Really? Why ever?”
“First of all, let me say that your sister is a little idiot. What does she do today but parade in front of my recruitment office with a goddamned peace sign!”
“No!”
“It’s true. I guess she was on the way to that big anti-war rally outside the State House, but as soon as she saw me, she just had to make trouble. I warned her to beat it, more than once, but she just kept challenging my authority until finally...”
“Yes, finally what?”
“I told her if she didn’t move away from the office I’d spank her.”
“No!”
“But she kept standing there and arguing with me.”
“And did you really do it? Spank her?”
“I did,” Doug admitted.
“Gee, I wish I could have been there to see that!” said Veronica, pressing the traffic button for a green light on Beacon Street. They crossed over and headed towards the public garden.
“So the thought of me spanking your annoying little sister doesn’t make you mad?” Doug asked, feeling suddenly wildly exhilarated. He’d never noticed that the sky above Boston proper could be so completely crammed with stars.
“Sure, mad with envy. I never meet any men who think of spanking me,” she confided, leading the way into the gardens.
“Why? You don’t think that’s a bad thing?”
“No, I think it sounds exciting.”
“Really? Do you?”
“Not that you were right to spank my sister. You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t sue you for battering a civilian.”
“Your sister’s a goddamned hippie.”
“Hey, show a little respect. Thanks to hippie culture, you just got laid for free.”
“God, you’re a fresh girl.”
“Go on, deny that you’d be headed for the combat zone right around now if you hadn’t met me earlier?”
“You know, I was thinking that very thing earlier,” he admitted, “how there used to be good girls and bad girls, but now there are only good girls who behave badly.”
Veronica smiled.
“Come over here and sit with me,” he said, leading her to a stone bench under a tree along a side path. “Should I show you what I did to your sister?” he asked, taking her smooth upper arm in his hand and pulling her easily across his lap.
“Right here? Right now?”
“It will only take a few minutes,” he promised, patting her shapely bottom through her denim shorts and anchoring her waist to his lap with his free hand.
“Why don’t we go back to my place?” she asked, leaning up.
“We can later,” he pushed her back down and smacked her right cheek, then her left, somewhat sharply. “Now you need to be spanked.”
Veronica squirmed on Doug’s lap as the few dozen swats rained down on her upturned seat. “But, in public!” she cried, straining to get free.
“It was good enough for your sister. She courted the attention,” he replied, ending the impromptu spanking with ten hard swats and setting her back on her feet.
“Oh!” she cried, flushed to the roots and humiliated to the depths when a young couple passed by smiling at them. “How could you do that in public?” she complained furiously, folding her arms and turning away from him.
“If you pout I’ll do it again,” he threatened. She began to walk away, her hands buried in her pockets. He caught up with her, picked her up and arranged her over one shoulder.
“Doug, put me down!”
“I’d rather carry you home,” he replied cheerfully.
“If you want to be invited to sleep over you’ll stop being horrid this instant!” she cried imperiously. Doug immediately put her down.
They walked along quietly for a few moments.
“You have a very hard hand,” she said at last.
“You didn’t like it, did you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I spanked your sister a lot harder than that!”
“Well, I’m not used to it.”
“You could get used to it.”
“What would be the incentive?”
“This time let me spank you just before we have sex. Then I bet you will come.”
“I bet I will too,” she agreed.
“Can we be sure your sister won’t walk in?”
“Let’s go back and see if she calls. She may decide to spend the night away.”
The phone rang just a few minutes after they reentered the apartment. It was Virginia calling Veronica to let her sister know that she’d be spending the night with friends. Thus the gods continued to smile on their warrior.
“Obviously, it’s no coincidence I picked you up,” Veronica said, lighting her new lover’s cigarette as they shared a brandy nightcap on the roof. “My sister came home this afternoon and told me about what happened in the street. Naturally, I was intrigued and when she told me you were kind of cute, I couldn’t resist checking you out myself.”
“Jesus, you must really be into it,” Doug commented, noticing the stars were even closer now.
“I am. I always have been.”
“Me too!” he agreed, astonished to be saying this out loud.
“So, how many women have you spanked?”
“Let’s just say I’ve seized any opportunity presented.”
“How about prostitutes? Have you spanked a lot of prostitutes?”
“No, of course not.”
“Why not?”
“They wouldn’t understand.”
“Not even those cute Asian ones?”
“Maybe a couple of swats, but nothing to write home about.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t push that angle, into it as you seem. I mean, you just grabbed my sister, didn’t you?”
“She was pushing my buttons. And she was warned.”
“So when are you getting out?”
“This year, actually. How did you know?”
“You look old enough to be put out to pasture.”
“You’re really fresh, you know that? I’m not as old as I look.”
“Really? How old are you?”
“Thirty eight.”
“Wow, I thought you were at least forty two!”
“But you came looking for me anyway.”
“That’s right. I want a daddy to boss me around,” she said, impulsively kissing him. “So what do you plan to do when you get out?”
“Well, I’m tired of talking orders. I’ll probably start my own business.”
“Really? What kind?”
“Maybe a little fixit shop.”
“How exciting,” she grinned.
“God, you’re a brat. Well, what do you suggest?”
“How about a neighborhood photography studio? It’s nice work, not too strenuous. And you could develop artistic photography as a side line.”
Doug stared at her. “That’s a good idea!”
“I thought you’d like that.”
“Maybe I should hire you as my assistant. Then I could spank you every day.”
“I have all the necessary skills.”
“There’s not much you don’t have, including nerve,” said Veronica’s new admirer.
In a few minutes he took her back inside and stopped in the kitchen to pull out a straight-backed chair.
“You’re a managing little female, aren’t you?” He sat down and took her by the arm. “I’m not sure I like that!” He pulled her down across his lap in one motion. “Oh no, are these still on you?” he smacked the seat of her glove tight denim shorts a few times with disapproval. “Take them off. Take everything off. Right now!” He lifted her back off his lap and folded his arms to watch her undress for him. She unzipped and dropped her shorts slowly, then deliberately held his gaze while stepping out of them. Then she lazily pulled her stretch halter top up over her head revealing her small, firm, round, peach shaped bosom, rose nipples pointing insolently upward, skin like taut cream satin, with a torso tapering downward to an exquisite waist. Now she stood before him in a tiny pair of French cut blue panties and lacing cloth shoes.
“I’d like to photograph you for artistic photos,” he said, pulling her back over his lap before she had a chance to remove her panties.
“Oh, that’s been done. It’s what gave me the idea for you,” she revealed, turning to him.
“Are you telling me you’ve posed for nude photos?”
“Yes.”
“You little slut!” he declared with mock indignation, liking her more every moment they were together. Then a strange and frightening thought came into his head. What if none of this was real and he was simply hallucinating off the brownies she had allowed him to eat?
He had only just identified the unusual euphoria he’d been experiencing for the past hour as drug induced. It suddenly all added up: the hippie sister, the classic medium of delivery, the subsequent sensations of wild elation counterbalanced by a tendency to over analyze every thought that occurred to him, the uninhibited sex and spontaneous confessions and most of all, his complete lack of concern about any of this. “You are a little slut, aren’t you?” he demanded suspiciously.
“I’m a free spirit,” she casually corrected him over one pretty bare shoulder, flipping back her long, smooth, shiny hair.
“Oh, I see, a child of nature,” he amended, relieved that her responses still seemed to tally with her promise of being in the scene. He wasn’t imagining that she was allowing him to pull her panties down, and yet he never recalled the color pink showing up so vividly on a bottom he had only briefly spanked. It looked electric pink. “I suppose you never get spanked,” he ventured.
“Never! Who does?”
“I think it stays pink longer the first time,” he told her, stroking her bare bottom with his big hand. “That’s been my experience with the few girls I’ve spanked more than once.”
“My sister was sure pink when I saw her and that was almost an hour after her encounter with you!”
“See, that’s where this whole day somehow goes all Alice in Wonderland,” he frankly admitted, pausing with his hands clasped on her waist. “Why did your sister pick me out to bait today? Why did you follow up? Things like this don’t happen to me.”
She wriggled against his sturdy thighs and murmured, “You were in the right place at the right time.”
“So you’ve posed for photographers! That was very naughty. And dangerous,” he told her, spanking her soundly for several minutes. “However, knowing that about you makes you coming to find me today more believable. You’re a wild girl. Aren’t you? You need someone to make you conform.”
“You?” she looked back at him.
“I should punish you severely for playing that joke on me,” he threatened, continuing to bring his palm down firmly on either cheek until each glowed magenta and radiated heat.
“What joke?”
“You know damn well what joke. Do you know how much it could jam me up to test positive for THC?”
“They’d bother testing a hoary old warhorse like you?”
“Keep it up and I’ll make you get me a hair brush.”
Veronica wriggled on his lap to entice him. He was rock hard again and she ground against it. The spanking began to hurt. She tried to breathe through it but finally she couldn’t help but cry out.
“Oh please! I’ve had enough. I’m sorry for whatever I did!”
“All right. Spread your legs and jut your bottom up.”
“Why?” she looked over her shoulder.
“You’ll see,” he told her, putting his palm between her smooth thighs and lightly spanking her public mound and vulva.
“Oh! How dare you spank me there!” she cried, delighted. Now he let one, then two long fingers slip up into her snug, creamy vagina.
“You’re so wet. Maybe I’ll show mercy and fuck you instead.”
“Maybe fuck me without showing mercy?” she amended.
“Bent over the kitchen table? As though we were married?” he suggested.
“Is married life that exciting?”
“We’ll see,” he promised.
