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What would become of them, he didn’t know. He lived on borrowed time. The calls to his friend overseas had worried him. Things were said about him from afar and the implication was he would not be able to hide for much longer. His past would catch up with him and when it did, he would have to run, fast and far away.
He almost regretted coming back to Liverpool. He had convinced himself it was because he would find work and keep his head down, out of sight, but the reality was he had wanted to find Leah, to see her and know she was flourishing. However, she hadn’t been and he had stepped into the emotional breach left by her father, a position that took him to her bed and there he stayed, night after night. He was stuck fast to her.
Deep down he knew what emotion had awoken inside him. Unlike his own father, who had given it too readily to the wrong woman, he had kept his at bay, fearful of making the same mistake. His father lost his wife and never replaced her, and Rick didn’t want the same fate to befall him. Leah chipped away at his resolve, his intention to not give his love easily and unrequited. It had to be given back. Was Leah infatuated with him because he was a substitute for poor parenting, or did she truly love him too?
* * *
With a blanket laid out on a stretch of sandy beach, Leah and Rick had their picnic. Not too far from the car park, they were amongst the throng of families enjoying the sun and the spring warmth. Kids ran about screaming, throwing balls while their parents reclined on deck chairs behind their windshields. A multicolour show of stripes adorned the shields and the picnicking couple had tucked themselves between two of them.
Leah had chosen shorts—cut-off jeans, which stopped short below her bottom and were torn slightly at the edges. She told Rick they made her look stylish; he raised his eyebrows, but didn’t protest at her choice of clothing. She suspected he quite like seeing her long legs on display. Her t-shirt didn’t cover much and she had tied a knot at the bottom, drawing it snug about her waist.
Rick wore his usual flared jeans with a plain white t-shirt. Unlike Leah who had shades and a sun hat, Rick was happy to bask in the full glare of the sun and immediately his skin tone seemed to darken. He looked foreign, she thought, not pale enough for a local.
Shaking out the blanket, they returned it to the car and then decided to walk up the coast and inland, into the vast sand dunes. They rose up behind the beach, a long line of sand and tall grasses, clumped and randomly arranged. As they wandered, they kicked the sand up between their sneakers and held hands.
Leah was extremely happy, almost joyful. They were able to chat to each other, and even though they had little in common on the surface—different tastes in many areas including books and music—their childhoods had similarities, especially when they touched on their school life. They reminisced about life in boarding school: the dormitory pranks, the worst teachers, the best and kindest, and the long list of rules, which Rick complied with and Leah resisted.
It led them back to talking about her last spanking. Now alone, the distant crowds of sun worshippers having left the beach, they could talk freely.
“It’s been two months,” he pointed out. “Is that all it took? One spanking and them, bam, you’re an angel?”
“Actually,” Leah began to say, “I’ve been struggling. Not with being good and doing as you asked, but… gosh, this is so hard to explain.” She halted, fiddling with a piece of long grass.
“Leah?” he said gently. “What is troubling you?”
“When you spanked me, it made feel ashamed and disappointed in myself. I was glad you did it. It woke me up. That club, in the cold light of day, didn’t seem the place to be any longer. Nor any of them. But that isn’t the only thing I felt.”
She couldn’t look at his face; she blushed pink and took shelter under her hat.
Rick let go of her hand and tipped her chin up with his forefinger. “I think I understand. Let me try to say what you can’t.”
“Please.”
“Take away the humiliation, the reason why I spanked you, and you had an awareness of closeness to me, perhaps even a sense of comfort amongst the pain and discomfort. Maybe, I’m guessing, because I didn’t expect you to feel like this, but it’s fine, I don’t mind. I think you wanted that special moment between us, a sexual awakening. It happened to me too.”
“It did?” She whipped her shades off her face to show him her look of relief. “I thought I was crazy. This need to belong to you and let you spank me. It shouldn’t be right, but it is and now, I don’t
know how to say this easily… even if I’m good, I would want you to spank me.” Her voice was barely audible over the distant crashing waves and the squawks of seagulls above their heads.
Rick placed his cool palms on either side of her face and tilted her head towards his lips. He gave his answer with a long drawn-out sensual dip into her mouth with his tongue. Releasing, he whispered into her ear. “I understand.”
“I mean,” she added hastily. “It would be for you to decide of course, and maybe now and again, I might be a little naughty, but not really, properly disobedient.”
“Miss Leah, if you were properly disobedient, I would give you a proper spanking. However, if you a little bit naughty or asked sweetly, I might spank you too.” His hazel eyes sparkled under the sunlight, unperturbed by the bright midday sun.
Leah’s lips trembled, her legs wobbled, but she couldn’t help the words spilling out of her mouth. “Rick, please would you spank me?”
“Yes, my beauty. I will.”
She watched him as he darted about the dunes, hunting for the elusive implement. She sat in a bowl-shaped dip in the dunes. The sea was invisible as were the other dunes and the wind could barely be felt, such was the shelter provided. She poured sand between her fingers as she appeared to wait patiently. It was a ruse because between her legs, her sex signalled an impatience, an unmet need that she hoped he would shortly fulfil. He had no plans to wait until they were home.
“There is nobody about,” he told her. “It’s a risk worth taking.” He grinned and then went on his hunt.
A few minutes later, he returned with something in his hands.
“What is it?” she asked.
He held it up. A piece of greying wood, broad at one end and thin at the other. “Driftwood. Probably off a pallet or something similar. I’ve checked, there aren’t any splinters and it’s pretty solid. It’s not going to snap on you.” To prove a point, he smacked it against his thigh a couple of times.
