Читать книгу Shadow Lane Volume Eleven: The Venus Club A Novel of Sex, Spanking and Modern Love - Eve Howard - Страница 5

Chapter One

Things to Do with a Ponytail

Going to Europe the summer after freshman year of college had been one of Amanda Sands’ most cherished dreams and the boyfriend she chose to accompany her, Colby Hodge, was an experienced traveler who could easily carry her extra bag. Colby wondered why Amanda even needed two suitcases, arguing that they ought to be traveling lighter, with backpacks instead of suitcases on wheels, but Amanda looked at him with a steely expression in her pale blue eyes, and said, “I’m going shopping in Paris and Rome.” Colby shrugged and accepted her will. They were both spoiled only children, but he was less spoiled and more willing to compromise, whereas she was more determined to get exactly what she wanted at all times.

They were examining designer mark downs in the luggage department at Bartlett’s department store in Woodbridge, Mass, the little village adjacent to Random Point, where Amanda was spending the month of June working in her father’s antiques’ shop and pre-reading required books for sophomore year at Harvard, which she and Colby both attended. Colby was about to depart to work in his family’s winery for a month on the opposite coast. They had agreed to meet in London on July 1^st and spend the entire month in Europe together.

“Babe, I’ve reached my saturation point. I’ll be in the pub across the street,” said Colby, disappearing in a flash of long khaki shorts and lean, muscular boy torso under a white t-shirt before she had a chance to protest that it was only three p.m.! Amanda thought he must have a very convincing fake id to get served alcohol in any bar in the commonwealth at age nineteen.

“If I may make a suggestion,” came a silky voice from around the corner of an aisle, as Pamela Bartlett suddenly appeared before Amanda. “One of these will pack as much shopping as you can afford to do in Paris and Rome,” Pamela showed Amanda a smart medium tall piece on wheels.

“If you say so,” said Amanda.

“It’s the nicest sale piece we have too,” Pamela confided.

The two young women had modeled together and walked in the same in store fashion shows at Bartlett’s several times and Pamela was well equipped to judge exactly the type of shopping Amanda would be doing on the summer streets of Europe. What Pamela didn’t know was that Amanda’s anticipated shopping spree was to be financed by a sexual encounter Amanda had engaged in with Pamela’s husband Ambrose Bartlett, several months before Pamela and Ambrose had wed.

Pamela still worked in the Damaris boutique on the third floor, much to the annoyance of the tall, slim and fashionable brunette. She had fully expected to be relieved of all clockable wage-earning duties upon her marriage to the wealthy owner of Bartlett’s department store that spring. She had planned to work solely on dress design from now on, along with her partner Damaris, who put out a smart little line of tailored ready to wear suits and dresses and now possessed two shops in the commonwealth, but had been summarily told by her husband that the boutique at Bartlett’s was still her responsibility and that he had no intention of hiring another clerk at that time. It had been Pamela’s first disappointment as a bride, but she hadn’t argued, then. However, she brooded on the subject every hour of every day. She was currently on her lunch hour and prowling around the store restlessly when she ran into Amanda.

Pamela wasn’t sure if she was happy that Amanda was in Random Point for the summer because even though she was in almost total ignorance about what had transpired between Bartlett and the then college freshman Amanda in the winter and spring, she somehow guessed that her husband had been and probably still was immensely attracted to the willowy blonde daughter of Hugo Sands. The fact of seeing Amanda together with her tall, broad shouldered jock boyfriend was a comfort to Pamela, who was as yet unaware that Colby was about to depart and leave Amanda alone for the next month betwixt all the men of Random Point.

Pamela feared Amanda yet also felt attracted to the polished blonde Ivy League girl. Amanda was lithe, lovely and as interested in apparel as she herself was. Pamela had no close female friends and was beginning to long for a companion to whom she might reveal all her inner thoughts. It should have been Hope Lawrence, but Pamela was aware that her husband had sent Hope good coats and dresses as tips on top of paying her allowance for spanking sessions. Pamela’s jealousy of Hope was endless and while yet she loved her husband, Pamela and Hope would never be dear friends. Laura Sands was very nice, but Pamela had still not gotten over being in love with, being toyed with and then being summarily rejected by Hugo Sands, therefore she had no desire whatever to closely consort with Hugo’s new wife. Everyone knew that Hugo had wooed Laura relentlessly for seven years before finally capturing his prize and this type of romance gave Pamela a pain in her flat stomach to contemplate, because no one had ever shown her such devotion.

“Do you want to have lunch some day?” Pamela asked Amanda impulsively.

“Yes! Tomorrow?”

“All right, meet me at the café upstairs at noon,” said Pamela, unconsciously looking at herself in a mirror to make sure she was still absolutely thin. Food in itself meant very little to her, but she knew that eighteen year olds were always hungry.

Amanda was thrilled as she wheeled her Kenneth Cole suitcase out of the store. The warm, sunny streets of Woodbridge were thronged with the first wave of summer tourists that balmy afternoon and Amanda was so momentarily dazzled by the colors and movement around her that she almost walked into Ambrose Bartlett, who had in fact just been in the pub across the street where Colby now awaited her.

“Amanda, so nice to see you. Have you been shopping?” Mr. Bartlett extended his hand to shake hers, though she had been somewhat more inclined towards exchanging hugs, considering the last time they had seen each other he had made fairly expert love to her, but she realized that they were in a Pamela and Colby danger zone and so only returned his handshake with a squeeze.

“Yes, Pamela steered me towards this for Europe,” said Amanda, smiling at him warmly to let him know that he was now completely forgiven for their first meeting, during which the department store owner had not endeared himself to her. But that was now ancient history, dating back to the previous winter. Their more recent history was much more agreeable and had left Amanda the richer by five thousand dollars. “By the way, congratulations, Mr. Bartlett,” Amanda said.

“Oh, thanks,” he replied vaguely, knowing she meant on his marriage but appreciatively taking in Amanda in the white halter top, beige capri pants and chunky wedge sandals that did remarkable things for her already beautiful arch.

“It looks like Pamela and I are going to be friends,” Amanda told him, hastening to add, at the instant wrinkling of his brow, “But don’t worry, I won’t tell her what we did.”

“Good girl,” said Bartlett, momentarily pressing her hand, then leaving her to return to his store. Amanda watched the sleekly groomed Bartlett enter his store by one of the gilt edged revolving doors with a smile, but when she turned back to continue on her way, she saw Colby standing in the pub window across the narrow cobbled street glaring at her.

Slamming down his mug of ale he folded his arms and frowned heavily at her. Letting go of her suitcase pull for the moment she looked defiantly back at him over her own folded arms. But there were too many tourists passing back and forth in front of them to continue this pantomime for very long so Amanda crossed the street and motioned him out.

“Are you going to be horrible just because I exchanged pleasantries with Mr. Bartlett?” she demanded, as he took the suitcase from her and they began walking towards the village street where he had parked his car, which instead of being borrowed, as in the past, was now his own, having been allowed him by his parents upon having successfully completed his first year at Harvard with top grades. It was a fifteen-year-old jeep and he was happy to have it. The mere act of Amanda’s climbing into the front seat soothed Colby’s unease at having seen her with her wealthy admirer and being of a cheerful and optimistic nature, all hostile thoughts were at once replaced by the happy expectation of their last night together before separating for a month.

Amanda had invited Colby to stay with her these past several days at her father’s house and he had also shared her bed. In fact, for many weeks together Colby had enjoyed the signal privilege of holding Amanda in his arms every night, their handsome young bodies pressed close, with rapturous sexual interludes only interrupting periods of peaceful repose.

Since Colby refrained from quarreling with her about Ambrose Bartlett, Amanda took great pleasure in first shopping at the village co-op and then graciously preparing a meal of pasta primavera for her young lover in the kitchen of her father’s house. Colby opened one of Hugo’s excellent merlots and Amanda sliced crusty French bread and summer fruit. After eating heartily, they went for a long walk down Shadow Lane until they came to the cul-de-sac where the Randoms lived. Behind their house was a wooded path that lead to the beach and Amanda led Colby thence to watch the sun go down on the water. They had brought sweaters and blankets and thus comfortably sat in each other’s arms, kissing and hugging as the waves rolled gently in and the cool evening breeze blew through the cove.

Amanda suggested they return to the house, promising a surprise upon their arrival there. Beguiling the long walk back, Amanda produced a joint and they each had a couple of pulls on it, which brought the stars above them into much sharper perspective. Once they reached the house Amanda led him up to the attic via a narrow stairway at the back. This long, dark wood planked, skylight room was Hugo’s playroom and well equipped as such with furniture conformable to B&D, along with fetish toy chests, wardrobe armoires and a quantity of mirrors to reflect provocative tableaux. A large box sofa which had just been reupholstered in cocoa and cream brocade with a equally imposing round pouf to match dominated one side of the room while the dungeon furniture ranged about the other, with ample space around each post, bench, “horse” or bondage bed to swing an implement. The light mocha walls were surmounted by cream crown molding a foot wide. Architectural wall sconces held fat ivory candles that Amanda now lit, instructing Colby to turn the lights off. Now the bewitching room was bathed in a lambent glow as they wandered from object to object, opening doors and lifting lids to explore the leathery or hickory scented contents within.

Shedding her light cotton cardigan, Amanda regarded her image in a mirror, wondering if she should have worn a sexier outfit on her last night with Colby before a month’s separation. She was dressed in khaki shorts, a sleeveless, cropped white shirt that exposed two inches of sleek, flat midriff, high collared urban walking boots and white socks. Behind her she glimpsed Colby seizing on a jar of pomade, cream or oil from an open armoire shelf and said, “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“Nothing,” he said, sliding it into the pocket of his own khaki cargo shorts.

“Is that some sort of anal lube?” she demanded.

“Why should I tell you?” he countered evasively.

“Humph!” she said, her hands unconsciously going to her hips as she prepared to lecture him on preparing to take liberties she had not formerly granted him. But he cut her off and surprised her by taking her by her elbow and summarily pulling her over his lap with the large pouf under him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she sputtered. “And why do you have a hard on?” she added, wriggling across his muscle corded thighs.

“I just want to have a conversation with you,” he explained, winding her long ponytail around one hand while pressing his other down around her waist. Amanda found being taken by the hair so exciting that she decided against expressing any additional indignation and simply caught her breath and waited.

“You saw I saw you talking to that old geezer today,” Colby said, stroking the bare skin between the middle of her back and the waist band of her shorts mildly, then slipping his hand up under the back of her shirt to unhook her bra.

“I did see you glower at me,” Amanda replied, turning her face back towards him.

“That was the exact millionaire who bought your favors last winter. Wasn’t it?”

“Mr. Bartlett did court me at one time, but he’s married to Pamela now and she’s enough for one man.”

“Oh, is that so?” Colby switched from holding her by the hair to capturing her wrist and folding her arm back, holding it to her impossibly small waist. “Then why was he eyeing you as if you were a red velvet cupcake? Huh?” Colby brought his palm down on the seat of her shorts smartly two or three times.

“I can’t help it if that man likes me,” she protested.

“Yes, you can!” he insisted, reaching under her to unsnap her buttons and loosen her shorts in order to yank them down to her knees. This operation revealed fine, thin, white cotton bikinis tightly girding her slim but jutting bottom cheeks. “I told you to stay away from that ancient metrosexual and you defied me!” Colby scolded, smacking her vigorously for one or two minutes.

“Humph!” she grunted but was determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing her sob or feeling a tear fall from her eye. “I will always defy you!” she returned stubbornly, though the increasing impact and velocity of his descending palm had caused her to begin kicking her legs.

“Then I will always spank you,” Colby advised her, yanking down her panties and finishing the punishment with an enthusiast volley of several dozen resounding smacks across the swelling center of each shapely bottom cheek. Then he held her in place and massaged her hot pink buttocks, rubbing her in circles with the palm of his hand until she began to squirm across his thighs in excitement rather than pain.

Pulling off her panties entirely, he made her sit on his lap facing him and in seconds flat had his hard, throbbing, condom sheathed, vein corded cock poised at her suddenly moisturized pink pussy slit. Remembering the lube, he used it to coat his shaft and her slim aperture before encouraging her to take him in her hands and guide him into her deepest recesses, while gently easing herself down on his cock. Halfway through this endeavor of patient concentration, Colby grabbed Amanda by the waist and pulled her abruptly the rest of the way down on his truncheon like stem, filling her so deeply as to evoke a yelp of indignation from Amanda, who then slapped Colby across the face.

“Ow!” she cried. He grinned at her and kissed her on the mouth while pulling her forcefully against his chest and throbbing inside the entire length of her vaginal canal. In a moment she had grown accustomed to his turgid penis thrust inside her at this acute angle and had begun to tentatively bounce up and down on her personal maypole. His own muscular arms doing most of the work, Colby propelled Amanda’s lap pogo with a viselike grasp on her waist until the excitement was too strong to withstand another instant whereupon he pulled her hard against him one final time while exploding into orgasm deep inside her. She wriggled against him throughout the entire throes of his eruption, grinding her blonde fuzzed Venus Mound and by now almost painfully throbbing clit, against his groin with a genuine sense of urgency. As Colby squeezed her still warm, well-spanked bottom cheeks in his hands and lightly probed the cleft between them with his fingertips, Amanda grabbed onto him hard and reached her own shuddering climax.

“How am I going to do without you for a month?” he murmured into her ear.