Subculture (22 page)

‘Sorry, I assumed that you wanted to spent time with your girlfriend,' she said. His reply might double her feelings of loss and betrayal and humiliation. Still she forced herself to meet Michael's steady gaze.

‘I thought that you were my girlfriend,' he said softly.

Lisa looked at Ria, noting how the other woman's facial muscles had tightened into a watchful mask. ‘I heard that you and Ria were an item,' she parried. She could have added that Ria herself had given her this information, but wanted to save the other woman from that level of disgrace.

‘Oh Ria and I are just old mates, isn't that right?' Michael answered, smiling at both of them. ‘We dated a bit, but we never really clicked, did we, Ria?' Lisa watched as Ria grinned wanly then shook her perfectly coifed head. ‘But we make a terrific work team.' Michael continued, ‘I dispense the drugs which alleviate the physical causes of impotence to our male patients then Ria arouses them to prove that everything's working right.' His smile widened with obvious pride and pleasure. ‘Our success rate so far is a hundred percent.'

The herbalist nodded. She'd only been half-listening to the second part of his statement. The first part reverberated around her brain and warmed her breasts, her pubes, her belly - he and Ria had never really clicked. The woman had lied to try to maintain the status quo, and Lisa had been foolish enough to believe her. She should have asked Michael about their relationship outright.

‘What did you want to see me about?' she asked belatedly.

Michael glanced at Ria, then looked at Lisa with eyes which told of their need for privacy. ‘Come to my surgery and I'll tell you,' he murmured sexily.

‘I've a patient due any minute...' She tailed off. That sounded business-like and rejecting, yet she so wanted them to be close like they'd been after the casino trip. ‘But I'm free in an hour for the rest of the day,' she added quickly. ‘Perhaps we can go out to lunch?'

‘Can't - I'm free now for an hour then have a pre-lunch appointment,' Michael said. He frowned and went quiet, was obviously thinking. ‘Then I've a meeting that I can't get out of, but I'm available from about 3pm.' He paused. ‘How about if I come back here then and drive you around Malta? There's numerous restaurants in St Julian's, so we can go there for dinner and a drink.'

And then we'll... Lisa thought shakily, and her nipples tingled and lengthened with forbidden deep desires. ‘I've got some pruning to do later,' she explained, trying to keep the wild elation from her voice and from her features. ‘So you'll find me in the herb garden at three.' In truth, she'd shower and change after taking care of her medicinal herbs, but she'd go back there to meet Michael, would sit in the scented green setting trying to look informal and relaxed.

‘I'll look forward to finding you,' Michael said, and his tone was seriously self assured, even though his half-smile was jaunty.

You'll look forward to punishing me, Lisa thought with a low hard thrill. She turned to Ria, who was backing away into her room. ‘I love it here,' she said quietly to the Sex Therapist and Surrogate. She didn't know what the future held yet, just knew that she didn't want the other woman to fret about her Vitality-based career. Ongoing worry was the opposite of what the Clinic strove for. Long term anxiety made people emotionally unstable and physically ill. Lisa knew that she wouldn't try to take Michael from his beloved island - he belonged here. Loved its climate, its varied nightlife and nutritious home grown food.

And he had an authority here that would be hard to build in London or another big city. He'd built himself an empire on this Mediterranean land that was perfectly geared to his dominant desires. Even if she ultimately decided to return to Britain, she knew that Michael must stay here in Malta. He was King at Vitality, whereas in England he'd be starting again as a Prince.

He was her King for now, Lisa thought, and shivered slightly. She knew that tonight he'd probably thrash her till her clitoris reached fever pitch. And much as she hated the belittlement caused by such whipping, her vulva ached to spasm into release.

‘See you at three then, Mike,' she said, making her words falsely casual.

‘I'll look forward to seeing more of you,' the doctor replied. His look was clear, seemed to strip away her skirt, her pink cotton panties. As she walked with uneven steps towards the stairwell she could sense him staring at her small high bum. What excuse would be find to strip it of its protective covering? What reason would be given for birching both tender spheres?

The main thing was the resultant orgasm, she told herself with growing elation. She'd have a pulsing shrieking climax, then he'd talk her down further and she'd orgasm all over again. The buttock pain would swiftly fade when he started to dole out the pleasure. Her mind and body would beg for that ecstatic release.

After administering to her elderly female patient, she made her way to the herb garden and transplanted a dozen overgrown peppermint plants then returned to the rose-scented Clinic. Her legs and torso felt light as she scampered up the stairs. Yesterday's papers had arrived, and were lying outside her bedroom door; she got a British broadsheet and a tabloid delivered daily. Liked to keep up with the serious news in Britain whilst also being entertained by the tabloid's more tongue-in-cheek style.

But the tone today wasn't tongue-in-cheek; it was derogatory and dismissive. SICK PERVERTS INVADE PEACEFUL VILLAGE, the headlines cried. Probably yet another case of child molesters Lisa thought with a shudder as she tucked the papers under her arm and unlocked her bedroom. There she made herself a cup of Chinese green tea. She'd flop on the bed for a while and catch up on the news, then make herself a light lunch, and have a shower. Then she'd meet and hopefully hold Michael in the herb garden some time after three.

Settling down with her back propped up with pillows, Lisa raised her cup to her lips and raised her eyes to the tabloid's opening paragraph. Then she stilled into shock and fear, and put the cup down on the bedside cabinet again. Two perverts have invaded the sleepy rural region of L----, the report read. Sherri Simms, 30, and her husband Bart, 34, moved to the tiny village last September. They immediately began placing adverts in a sick top shelf national magazine asking for another couple to join them in spanking sessions at their L---- home.

Lisa set down the paper. She'd have to read the rest, but first she wanted an alcoholic drink - or several. Hurriedly she went to the drinks cabinet in the corner and poured herself an almost neat gin. She drank half of it whilst standing up, and waited for its properties to numb her. Then she returned to the damning report and forced her eyes to take in more of the hate-filled print.

Raunchy replies flooded in to Sherri, a teacher at the local primary school, and Bart, a chef who recently set up his own wholemeal bakery in the village. But the couple had more on their minds than teaching maths and baking bread. Perverts from all over the country wanted to get in on the spanking action; the Simms received forty deviant replies in a single week! We can only speculate how many of these letters developed into sick spanking correspondence sessions, but the couple ultimately chose Maria and Leonard Brownlee from the stately city of York to share their disgusting tryst.

At this stage there was a paragraph heading of the word UNNATURAL. Lisa swallowed hard, then slowly read on. The Simms unnatural lust only came to The Daily Word's notice when a letter intended for the couple was inadvertently delivered to Lavinia Tettler, an elderly neighbour. ‘They were suggesting that Leonard Brownlee spank Sherri Simms whilst their partners watched,' said Mrs Tettler, a widowed housewife who lives in the retirement flats directly across from the couple's villa. ‘I was sickened to read this cheap filth.'

Lavinia sent the letter to The Daily Word. We found one of the couples adverts in a porn magazine and wrote to them pretending to be into spanking. Within forty-eight hours we received a two page letter back! The couple said that they'd already arranged an over the knee frolic with another twosome, but that they'd bear us in mind for future sessions if it didn't work out. They added that we sounded as if we understood the spanking scene and that it was wonderful to hear from someone of like mind!!!

This last sentence was italicised in bold. The paper sounded very pleased with itself and with its expose. Lisa drank deeply of her gin. The spirit heated her throat and chest, but did little to warm the cold chill in her belly. Sordid spanking story continued on page five, the article footnote said. An hour ago she'd been contemplating the very act that they called sordid! Lisa sucked in her breath, then shakily turned the page.

The first thing she focused on was the photograph of a pretty blonde woman holding a kitten. The man next to her had his arm around her shoulders. Both looked relaxed and happy, their eyes and smiles bright. Sherri and Bart Simms hide the dark side of their nature, the caption read. A smaller photograph to the left showed Maria and Leonard Brownlee on their wedding day. Only married two years, yet already their sick lusts are driving them to commit adultery! the caption shrieked. But were they, Lisa wondered. From what she'd read and seen, not all acts of erotic spanking led to intercourse. The couples might only be having sex within the marriage itself.

She turned to the damning lines of print. We sent a Daily Word journalist to the couple's redbrick villa, the report continued. We pretended that we were the Brownlee's friends, that we came on personal recommendation. The Simms invited us in, and Bart talked openly about the deviant deeds that they were looking to enact. Blonde Sherri, dressed in a clingy suede skirt suit, made us cappuccino, then sat demurely at his knee. ‘Sherri likes to be spanked,' Bart admitted. ‘And it's more exciting for her if there's a stranger watching.' He paused, then added, ‘Sometimes we do things the other way round, and I spank another woman whilst Sherri observes.' Sherri then dropped her own coffee cup and Bart joked that she'd have to be punished. We were disgusted when Sherri started to lower herself across our male journalist's knee! ‘You can take down her pants,' Bart said. He then looked at our female journalist, and seemed to be mentally undressing her. We made our excuses and left.

Lisa bit her lip. She felt exposed just reading this - and she hadn't been the people named or photographed. How much worse must the Simms and Brownlees feel? She turned to the final paragraph, already knowing that the story must end in devastation. Knowing that four private lives had been made cruelly public, had been wrecked. Yesterday neither the Simms or the Brownlees were at home, and Bart Simms bakery was up for sale, the paper said with mock solemnity. There was no answer when we called at Leonard Brownlee's stationery business, and a neighbour said that he hadn't been near the rented premises for days. A council representative confirmed that Sherri Simms had been sacked from teaching at the school. ‘She seemed so nice, too,' one mother said. ‘And she helped our youngest son move into a higher reading group. But we don't want weirdoes like her teaching our kids.' Mrs Lavinia Tettler echoed the mother's sentiments. We're all quiet God-loving Christians,' she told The Daily Word. ‘There's no place for depravity here.'

Lisa stared at the paper. This could so easily be her name, age, occupation and address on its pages! They could be calling her these hateful names. People would stare, point, or silently snigger. The world would know details that only her chosen sexual partner had a right to hear. The herbalist looked at her watch; she was supposed to be meeting Michael in three hours. They would end up doing the things that society damned men and women for over and over again. Much as she loved the ecstatic rush he provided, she wasn't convinced that it justified forfeiting life as she knew it. Lisa drank down the remains of the large glass of gin. She had to be alone, free to think without her lover's seductive persuasion. She had to get out of here now.

Throwing her purse into her shoulder bag, she rushed impetuously from the room. Then she sprinted down the stairs, almost knocking over a book-carrying Dania.

‘Sorry - got to go,' she gasped.

‘Where are you...?' the accountant started to query.

Lisa shrugged and kept on running as fast as she could. Away from here for a few hours, she thought wildly. Away from the sexual practices that the rest of the world hates. She'd take a bus to Sliema and find one of the offices which organised day trips. She'd talk to a day tour operator there.

Just boarding the bus made her feel better. Sometimes physically leaving a difficult scene could help clear her head. After all, every mile that the bus moved forward left her spanker further behind. But as the vehicle rattled its way to the shop-filled district of Malta, her mind still raced with the newspapers comments: weird, perverted, deviant and sick.

When she got to Sliema, a youth whistled. His friend, who also looked to be around age twenty, ogled her then winked appreciatively. Lisa realised that the flowing layered skirt and embroidered short sleeved blouse she had on made her look more approachable, closer to their age. If only, she thought belatedly, she'd changed into a more aggressive denim outfit and baseball cap - she wanted to keep the entire world at bay. There again, these men had a simple lust, just wanted to caress her curves and suckle at her nipples. They wouldn't want to whip her buttocks or stripe them with a cane.