Driven Wild (8 page)

Then, after the fortnight honeymoon period, her problems began to return. The hiatus of good behaviour ended. She struggled to rise in the morning, she snapped at him over breakfast, and then on one occasion she stumbled back to the car after a night out with friends, clearly drunk. Once home, having escorted her upstairs, Rick gave her a reprimand and told her if she didn’t get up on time the next day, he would spank her.

Swaying by the door to her bedroom, Leah glared at him for a second, eyes blinking, her mouth shaped as if she intended to speak. Then her lips pressed tight together. Rick waited to catch her, convinced she was about to fall. Instead, she pulled herself up straight and marched through the door, slamming it behind her.

Rick contemplated following her into the room. Initially, he could not countenance climbing into bed with her. Her lures—the charm of her curvaceous body, her dark shiny hair, even when she was drunk and stroppy—were irresistible; he would be safer in the spare room. Then he thought he heard her retching. Striding into the bedroom, he ignored her futile protests, pointing out she needed to be taken care of and then when she flopped on the bed, acquiescent and semi-conscious, he resigned himself to putting her to bed and keeping a watchful eye on her stupefied state.

The next day came and she lay in bed, refusing to answer his calls and ignoring her ringing alarm clock. He stared at her in disbelief, wrapped in her bed sheets and hiding her face from him.

“You were warned, Miss Leah. Now you will face the consequences. Get out of bed, get dressed or else these consequences will worsen. As it is, I will deal with your tardiness at a future point in time.”

* * *

After Rick had left the bedroom, Leah peered out from underneath the covers. Her eyes bright and awake, she let out low groan, an inward growl of frustration. She hadn’t intended to make him cross; although he didn’t sound very angry with her, she had thought her actions might irritate him. Confusion reigned in her mind and the heart of the problem was the conflicting role of her chauffeur turned lover.

Too fast, everything perhaps had been done with haste. The inviting him to stop over had happened on one night and then promptly blossomed into every night and then she had provided him with one of her spare rooms for his meagre possessions and clothing.

Their relationship remained undefined. He drove her to work, to her social functions, the weekly visit to the tennis club, and the odd foray into the shops. All proper and what she had imagined a driver would do. Except at night, Rick morphed into her lover, creeping between the sheets, touching her and sending her to a heavenly place.

The evening before she had lost track of the number of cocktails she had consumed. It was a weakness of hers to forget the alcohol content and glug away without consideration for her dizzy head and staggering legs. Dancing to the latest hits, she had crashed into people, knocking their drinks flying, argued with the barman about who should be served first, and at one point she stood on the table and did the twist, her mini-skirt riding up her legs, showing her frilly knickers to everyone. The catcalls had been raucous from the male bystanders.

Rick, perched in the corner of the club with his tonic water, had given her a serious frown of disgust, even more so when she nearly threw up in his precious Mercedes. Not his, the company’s, but he treated it like his own car.

Helping her to bed, she had expected him to sleep in his own room, but he didn’t. There had been no lovemaking, but he told her she needed to be looked after, especially if she was feeling sick. She had whispered a ‘thank you,’ shuffled up to his warm body and then, with the bedroom swirling about her, become awash with guilt. She didn’t think her actions that evening would go down as her best; she had told him she would behave and her gallivanting had been shameless.

Would he spank her? The thought had drifted into her befuddled mind as she fell asleep. Waking up, with Rick already in the shower, she had not overcome the guilt and shame of being drunk. Her friends had even shunned her towards the end of the evening; the recollection came back in her sobriety. Hiding under the sheets, she pretended to be asleep. It was an unconscious act at first, then she understood why she had to be late that morning. She needed him to spank her. The realisation dawned on her overhung mind and took root. But why did she want him to punish her?

Punishment. She used the word in her head and then dismissed it. It wasn’t what she sought from Rick. The idea was humiliating, being spanked like a naughty child. She was an adult, she should be able to correct her own attitudes and behaviours. She could, she knew she could, if she put her mind to it. She had survived three years at university without Rick keeping an eye on her.

It meant some other deep need had to be met. Trying to describe it, put logic and rational reasons to her jumbled-up meanderings didn’t work. Climbing out of bed, she decided it was not down to her. If Rick believed she deserved to be spanked, then so be it. If not, she would find her own way to show remorse for her behaviour.

Sex would be a good offering. Over the past two weeks it had been an amazing revelation. Orgasms galore, pussy licked out, cock sucked, and her insatiable lust to learn how to be the best in bed had kept them busy.

There had been the contraceptive discussion and Leah had been embarrassed to admit she was on the pill, which led to her talking about her previous bedfellows, all students: two one-night stands and a three-month boyfriend who cheated on her and left her uninterested in men for a considerable time.

She had confessed to being ashamed at the way she lost her virginity. “I was a little drunk,” she had said, pulling a face.

Rick had kissed her forehead and simply said, “What’s done is done. Don’t worry about it. However, this drinking, it has to be controlled. You haven’t done drugs, have you?” he had asked abruptly.

They both knew the clubs and pubs were increasingly used to push the latest concoctions. “No, absolutely not,” she had said with conviction. “I may be thoughtless, but I’m not idiotic.”

She had forgotten to ask Rick about his experiences, but she was convinced the man had no bad habits and there was no way he would become mixed up in drugs.

Neither of them said anything of substance in the car on the way to Littlewoods. No mention of spankings. It only made Leah feel worse, not better. The winter mornings were finally ending, no more driving to work in semi-darkness. Soon there would be spring, and she would be able to spend time outdoors. Long evenings of sunlight, and she hoped it would keep her out of the clubs; those places were a magnet for her need to unwind and forget her troubles, her lost parents—she couldn’t help but be drawn to the bars. The swinging sixties were in their last year, Merseybeat had passed its prime. She had to move on. Somehow.

* * *

His hand itched all day to spank her. To take her over his knee and see her pale bottom turn a shade of red. He hadn’t intended to enjoy spanking her. Having witnessed a few gruesome beatings at his army schools, he had never seen corporal punishment as erotic or pleasurable. How could he explain to her the way he felt?

At the same time, he did want her to understand he expected better from her. Now that they were lovers—something he could not believe in the cold light of day—she would have to remember that she should conform to his wishes. It was how his old-fashioned father had educated him: women at home, taking care of their husbands, meekly and obediently. In his father’s presence, Rick had kept his mouth shut about his own mother’s absence. Fortunately for Rick’s father, the army served as a more than adequate replacement for his missing wife.

Rick and Leah were only lovers though and not husband and wife. Rick couldn’t force or demand Leah to be obedient to him. He spanked her in the hope she would see her own way there. Now he had come to enjoy the intimate act, other emotions had come into play, and he was fighting hard to understand and control them.

Clubs were her weakness. Those private establishments—away from the workmen’s pubs where the dockers frowned upon women—were her nemesis. She had become hooked on the music, the bright strobe lights, and the ridiculous drinks, which were designed to entice the younger generation rather than encourage them to savour a quality drink. It gave Rick an idea.

Friends were not his forte, but those he did foster were mutually beneficial. Easily liked by most people, he had one such friend he could call upon for a favour. It would have to be Saturday morning; before then his plan would not be feasible. However, Leah had to know he hadn’t let her raucous evening and subsequent lingering in bed slip him by.

He told her in the car on the way home after her day’s work.

“I haven’t forgotten about last night. Your sordid behaviour in the bar: vulgar and unladylike. Nor will I ignore you lying in bed this morning, having told me you would be good about getting to work on time. But you will have to wait until Saturday before I can deal with these issues, Miss Leah.” He added the formality. There in the car, she may be the client, but he saw a different role for himself—her protector.

Her face in the mirror surprised him. He had expected her to look petulant or disagreeable; instead she almost smiled and then, as if to truly digest his words, she gave a tiny nod of agreement.

* * *

Driving into the city early Saturday morning, Leah had no clue of their destination. Rick had asked her to dress in a mini-skirt and she had put on long boots to keep her legs warm and a fluffy scarf about her neck, plus a woolly bobble hat. The morning dew shimmered on the grass verges and the daffodils added a spark of bright yellow to the dull morning.

She had asked, but Rick had told her to wait and see. It gave her butterflies in the stomach; she knew it was the promised consequence that awaited her.

The car pulled up on a side street, alongside a row of shops. Opposite, on the corner of the street was a solitary door with a sign about the entrance. It was to this establishment that Rick led her, gripping her hand tightly.

“It won’t be open,” she said, scampering along next to him.

“It will be for us. I know the head barman,” said Rick, ringing the bell.

A middle-aged man appeared, wiping his hands on a tea towel and led them into the nightclub. It wasn’t one Leah had patronised before now. The balding man greeted Rick and handed him the keys. “Just finished cleaning up last night’s mess. It’s all yours, mate, lock up and post the keys back through the letter box. I’ve a spare set. Have fun.” With a chuckle, the man disappeared through a side door.

“I don’t understand,” muttered Leah. All about her were tables and chairs, laid out clean and tidy, ready for the evening’s extravaganza. At one end of the dimly lit room was a small stage for live bands to perform on, at the other a long bar with high stools. It was to one wall that Rick headed. Leaning over the jukebox, he scanned the listing. “Some of your favourites here.”

“Are we going to dance?” asked Leah optimistically.

Rick ignored her request. “Every night this place fills up with punters. My mate, Denis, keeps the place ticking over. He watches from his bar as people have a good time. Most people. Some don’t.” Rick came and perched on the edge of the stage.

“Don’t?” said Leah, creeping forward.

“They think they’re having fun, but really they’re not. They’re making fools of themselves, embarrassing themselves. At the time, they can’t see it, but Denis does. He has to deal with the aftermath sometimes. The broken glasses, the vomit, the fights, and the tears.”

“That’s not me,” said Leah quickly.

“No,” agreed Rick. “Not yet. You came close the other night and you know it. You’re better than these places and you know it.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Not me, you,” he said. “I want you to take off your scarf and hat, the boots and your knickers. Then you’re going to bend over the edge of this stage.”

“What! You’re joking!” she exclaimed, trying to contain a half-hearted grin.

“Nope,” said Rick, his face unmoved.

It was only then that Leah noticed what was in his hand. The tea towel, the one that Denis had been using, and it hung down by his leg, looking very damp.

“You’re going to spank me with a wet tea towel?” she said with disbelief.

“I am. Then afterwards, you can pick a tune from the jukebox and we will dance to it, together.” His other hand slipped into his trouser pocket and took out a shilling. He put the coin on the table in front of him. “Well?”

Leah scuffed her boots on the lino flooring; she could see the countless stains of spilt drinks, never to be removed even after a frequent mopping. The club was empty; there was no one else to witness their little performance. The butterflies, which had been fluttering in her stomach ever since they had entered the club, now released their wings and took flight all about her body. They reached her little nub, the shameless sex organ and kissed it alive. Erotically she felt charged with enthusiasm, especially for the dance, but before the tempting reward, he would give his punishment, his verdict on her drunken display, a centre stage spanking for an audience of one.

For the last three days, Leah had been waiting. Occasionally distracted at work, she couldn’t explain to her colleagues the reason for her wandering mind; how could she? How to explain she allowed her chauffeur to spank her; submitted to the humiliation and shame it entailed. The ludicrous idea plagued her and at the same time, she yearned for Rick. The stern expression under his chocolate hair and the way a smile would break out of his stony face, showing his true nature underneath—a man who cared about her deeply.

Nobody had reached inside her and found her before Rick had appeared on her doorstep. Her father, aloof and constantly busy, had sent her to boarding school at the tender age of eight. She didn’t resent his decision; she probably had more fun at school than being alone in a great mansion with no friends nearby. It had left her with a false sense of independence, that she didn’t need anybody to keep her, to be there for her when things went wrong.