Spank: The Improbable Adventures of George Aloysius Brown (4 page)

"
In tourist class, always full. In first class, not full. First class passengers very lucky.
"

"
That's true. Look at me. I was lucky.
"

"
How come?
"

"
I met you.
"

Pem laughed.

"
Yes, I remember. You work almost all of the flight, then you want to talk when I am busy.
"

"
Really? I don't remember you being that busy. What were you busy doing?
"

"
Bringing you champagne.
"

They laughed, remembering.

Pem put her wine glass on the coffee table and put her arms around his neck.

"
George?
"

"
What is it?
"

"
Is okay if I stay here? It's so hot at my place, I can't sleep.
"

George took a deep breath. He had hoped she might.

"
Well, as it happens you're in luck,
"
he replied teasingly.
"
We have a few empty seats on this sector. Do you prefer window or aisle?
"

She laughed.
"
Prefer window.
"
It was a game. She was into it now. She snuggled closer and put her head on his shoulder.

"
Are we expecting a rough flight?
"

"
Probably,
"
George said.
"
But if it gets a little bumpy I don't want you telling me to fasten my seatbelt.
"

She smiled, blushing slightly.
"
Depends. It's my job to check the equipment, make sure is in upright position.
"

They smiled and kissed, Pem, eyes closed, making the first of her in-flight checks.

"
Mmm… I think already in upright position.
"

George put his hand on hers, resting it there
.
Then slowly he unbuttoned her blouse and she turned for him slightly so he could unfasten her bra.

They were both hot now, on final approach.

"
I oversleep this morning because I am dreaming of you.
"
She was whispering in his ear.
"
Now I stay the night – very bad girl don't you think?
"

She looked at him mischievously. And George is thinking, 'I've never played this game before but I think I know what to do,' and he tells her
"
yes, you are,
"
and playfully he pulled her across his knee.

If she had struggled that would have been the end of it. Instead, she went willingly, clenching and unclenching her buttocks in anticipation. So he pulled up her skirt, pulled down her panties, and spanked her. He started slowly, sensuously, his hand barely caressing her, then harder, quickening the pace and intensity until her cheeks reddened and she cried out with pleasure. Then she straddled him and they made love just as she had planned it.

Two months later they were married at Putney town hall, the mayor and council in attendance. His parents were both deceased and her family had been unable to make the long journey from Bali, but the newlyweds hooked up a webcam and broadcast live to her mother's crowded living room as together they cut the cake.

It was a lovely wedding. It had poured with rain all day, one of those relentless
London
downpours. Her bridal gown had been splashed with mud by a number 11 bus before she even got to the ceremony. Her maid of honor was stranded in
Frankfurt
due to a faulty landing light. The marriage commissioner had shown up slightly tipsy and after muffing the marriage vows pronounced them husband and strife and the ring boy, bless him, the four-year-old son of a third cousin on her father's side, had swapped her wedding ring for a matchbox car three minutes before the ceremony started and it had to be substituted with a curtain ring until the real one could be located stuck to half-eaten toffee in another little boy's sticky pocket. Yes, all in all, it was a wonderful day, Pem mused. That evening they had left
London
for the sun.

And now, on the first full day of their honeymoon, in a sleepy whitewashed pueblo north of
Alicante
, there was this, the purchase of a hair brush, a promising development, she thought. It was a classic wooden brush displayed with other bathroom items in the window of a pharmacy in the old town a few blocks from the beach.

"
It's perfect,
"
he told her, enigmatically. She said nothing but smiled and squeezed his hand. In the heat of the afternoon, with the siesta ahead of them, she was aroused, which seemed a blissful semi-permanent condition since they had boarded a bucket shop flight at Gatwick and spent their first night together as husband and wife.

As George paid for it, exchanging pleasantries with the pharmacist in his passable Spanish, she appeared to show indifference, positioning herself strategically behind a rack of designer sunglasses, all the time watching in a display mirror until the transaction was complete.

Behind the beach now packed with sun worshipers the little town slumbered in afternoon siesta. Pem took his hand and they swung their arms like soldiers in a marching band as they made their way back to their hotel through narrow, deserted streets. Little was said as George fumbled with the packaging, but she teased him, asking to hold it, feeling its smooth back, the heft of it, nodding her approval. He responded by whispering something in her ear that made her shudder and kiss the tip of his nose. It was 4 p.m. Outside, the sun beat down with that Mediterranean intensity that gives shadows even to ants on the cobblestones, but their little room with its candy-striped wallpaper and black and white prints of the
Pyrenees
was cool and inviting. Later, in the hour before midnight, they would join the crowd eating tapas and sipping sangria at one or another of a dozen beachfront bars, honeymooners holding hands, watching the moon climb into the starry sky. But the siesta was a time for love.

There was no rush. Prolonging the moment they stood with their arms around each other at an open window caressed by a cooling offshore breeze, gazing out over the panoply of bright umbrellas to the dancing sea. Out of the corner of her eye she watched George put the brush on the bedside table on her side of the bed and the precise way he did so made her heart race. Then in the shadowy and dusty light that filtered in through drawn curtains they undressed. He cupped her breasts and gently kissed her nipples, teasing them until he felt them erect between his lips. Then he knelt and slowly pulled down her panties, nuzzling her pubic hair with his nose, inhaling her aroma. He turned her and as she bent a little he patted her bottom, the flat of his hand lingering on its perfect contours. Was that a signal? She thought so. On the drive from the airport in their rented car she had got them lost. Now as he led her to bed she felt certain her cleverness would be rewarded. She allowed herself a sideways glance at the brush anticipating its chastening sting and instinctively her hands felt for her behind, cool now but soon, she imagined, to be warm and blushing. For delicious seconds he kept her waiting.
"
You got us lost on purpose, didn't you?
"
he said.
"
Pass me the brush.
"
Her heart pounding, Pem did so at once, then she laid across him thrusting up her bottom for their mutual enjoyment.

Over the years el cepillo, the Spanish word for brush, made a regular appearance in their love life. Spanking her with it, or with his hand, or with a switch from a birch tree, became an essential part of foreplay at their little flat in Pimlico and they choreographed various scenarios. Sometimes she would slip on one of her old uniforms, in another she would be a negligent secretary, or he would surprise her emerging from the shower, her skin shining and slippery, chastising her for some concocted domestic transgression as she bent over the bathtub. And of course there was a price to be paid for any infraction, however minor, of the municipal bylaws. During weekends in Gretchen, their camper van, his joy at administering to her shapely bottom was unconfined and for her part she craved the way it tingled beneath his touch. She loved exposing it for him, the total surrender, the way he worshiped her and the pleasure it gave them. And when he spanked her by hand the noise it made resonated like an ovation, the sound, George said, of one hand clapping. Invariably, their love making reached a noisy climax with George entering her from behind, Pem on her knees guiding him between blushing cheeks.

And now on this late summer Friday morning, as she applied her makeup and got ready for work, Pem caught a glimpse of el cepillo reflected in the bathroom mirror and felt a little frisson of excitement. An improbable thought occurred, perhaps if they were quick, there might be time.

"
George, you awake?
"
Her enquiry was a little louder than was necessary to carry into the bedroom next door. It had no effect. There was only the sound of snoring and the rustle of the duvet as George turned over in is sleep.

"
Bless him, he needs his rest,
"
Pem thought.
"
He's probably dreaming about an amendment to the official community plan.
"
She sighed and put el cepillo back on its shelf.

She put the kettle on and slipped back into bed alongside him. George stirred and rubbed his eyes.

"
You still here, love?
"
he asked, sleepily.
"
Shouldn't you have left by now?
"

"
I'm going, five more minutes.
"
She paused.

"
George?
"

"
Go on.
"

"
I'm sorry I dinged the van, it's just a scratch. I told you the chap in front slammed on his brakes. Honestly, it wasn't my fault. It was just a tiny bump.
"

He sighed.
"
You were on your mobile weren't you? You know you shouldn't talk and drive.
"

"
I know I shouldn't.
"

They let the admonition hang in the air between them.

Pem allowed her hand to reach for the little fella, as George called it, and was delighted to find it standing to attention. When they first met, when Pem's English was not so good and not quite so attuned to George's self-deprecating humor, she felt constrained to defend its honor.
"
Little fella not so little,
"
she told him after their formal introduction.
"
Good size. Good moves too, like a dancer.
"

She put her lips to his ear and breathed slowly out.

"
George?
"

"
I'm listening.
"

"
Are you going to give me a spanking?
"

He slipped his hand under her panties feeling her arousal.

"
I think that would be appropriate given the circumstances don't you?
"

"
Mmmm, I'll have to think about that. Right now I had better get going. I'll meet you after work in the pub around six.
"
She planted a kiss on his cheek.
"
I can't wait 'til tonight.
"

She jumped from the bed, flashing him briefly as she ran towards the wardrobe.

George drained his cup and propped himself on one elbow.

"
Where are you going? Who said anything about tonight?
"

"
But George you said you would, right? Don't tease me, okay. I'm in a hurry.
"

He had that look in his eye.

"
I decide when.
"

"
No, George, not now. Can't it wait until tonight? Really. I'll be late for work. I've got a management meeting at 10 am. I absolutely have to be there. Please, darling. I'll be sooo late.
"

George leaned back against the headboard and patted his lap, inviting her to assume the position.
"
You should have thought of that.
"

"
But George, I have to sit on a hard chair for an hour. Please, can't it wait?
"
They both knew this was just play. George closed his eyes pretending not to hear. Then he felt the warmth of her body as she lay across him.

Next morning, Saturday, they drove to the coast where he had booked their favorite spot at the Lazy Daze Campground on the cliff top at Shoreham-on-Sea. It was raining as they packed everything they would need. The van's cupboards were filled with provisions and the little fridge was well stocked. The space between driver and passenger seats was piled high with a cooler, two folding chairs, a case of beer, a portable barbeque and the propane tank, but finally everything was in its place. On the drive out of
London
the wipers batted rhythmically at persistent rain, but by the time they reached their destination it had slowed to a soft summer drizzle. Pulling into the campground they made for the high ground as usual, crawling in low gear up a gentle grassy slope that led away from the main encampment where rows of caravans bristling with antennae were packed together like suburban condos distancing themselves from the tents of the more modestly endowed spread out at the bottom of the hill. George reversed the van close to the edge of the cliff so no-one could approach from behind. It wasn't quite level, but he would level it later and they put the bed down and opened the back window where they lay together watching seagulls riding the wind above the jade green waters of
Pevensey
Bay
.