heart pounded and Clarence’s face flushed.
“You seemed to crop Diana masterfully,” Lupe murmured several minutes later, as they were crossing the wooden bridge that spanned Vassar Lake. “I envied the attention she was getting. But I suppose that I wore the wrong outfit.”
No sooner had these mildly wistful words issued from her lips than Clarence seized Lupe around the waist, lifted her to eye level and kissed her resoundingly. When he set her feet back down on the bridge she wobbled slightly. This gave him the excuse to sweep her up into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Carrying you home.”
“You can’t carry me all the way like this.”
“How much do you weigh? A hundred pounds?”
“Yes.”
“Besides, if I get tired of carrying you this way I can always put you over one shoulder,” he threatened.
“No!”
“I’ve been wanting to kiss you for weeks.”
“But you’ve been so aloof,” she reminded him.
“You needed to be punished.”
“You’re horrible,” she cried, gripped by a spasm of pleasure.
“Oh, you have no idea.”
“Why? What are you into, Clarence?”
“What do you think?”
“Could be anything from vampirism to cattle prods.”
“Oh, don’t be silly.”
“Rope bondage, hot wax and nipple clamps?”
Clarence snorted his derision.
“I know! Cross-dressing! With your alter ego being Mrs. Siddons!”
Clarence put Lupe down and gave her a shake. “You brat!” He kissed her again. “I don’t think I’ll wait to get you home before I spank you!” He pulled her off the lake path to the first fallen log he saw and turned her over his knee. Then holding her fast to his lap he brought his palm down vigorously on her shiny, PVC wrapped bottom a dozen or thirteen times. The spanking was delivered so rapidly that she hardly had time to kick before it was over and he’d set her back on her feet.
“There!” he told her. “Now you know for a certainty what I’m into!”
Lupe walked along beside him, still feeling the impact of his hand on her bottom. She wondered why in the stories she’d read on the subject, girls always rubbed their bottoms after a spanking. She herself would never attempt to disperse that exquisite sensation of just having been spanked. Meanwhile freshets of pleasure coursed through her as she pondered what Clarence had just done.
By the time they walked up the hill to the golf course and around the terrace apartments he felt it necessary to seize and firmly kiss her again.
“You’re a little character,” he said. “In fact, you’re just my type.”
They reached their dorm. Clarence being an upper classman possessed the larger, grander room. He invited her to visit him there as soon as she had changed into a more accessible costume.
When she joined him in his third floor corner aerie he had cracked the latticework windows to let in the spicy autumn air. Now clad in a fitted long sleeved dress of olive corduroy and chestnut brown riding boots Lupe pleased Clarence much more and he took her on his lap the right way around to kiss her and squeeze her 23” waist.
“Much improved,” he commended her, nuzzling her silken throat. But Lupe ached for more spanking, not necking and jumped off his lap. She strode around the room, examining his books and things. There were cobwebs on his computer. She sat down at the keyboard and stroked it on.
“Can I check my e-mail?” she asked, logging on without waiting for permission but adding earnestly as she saw him bristle, “There was a message from my dad on my machine when I went to change and it said to check my e-mail right away.”
“By all means,” he replied, meticulously filling a pipe with tobacco.
“Oh!” she cried, reading her message.
“What’s the matter?”
“I have to go home this weekend!” She pressed her small hands to her face.
“I hope nothing is wrong.”
“No. Nothing is wrong.”
“Then why do you look so shaken, dearest?”
“I have to go home to help my dad,” Lupe announced dramatically.
“Help your dad do what?”
“Increase magazine sales!”
“Increase magazine sales? Is your father in publishing?”
“Yes. He’s a publisher of men’s magazines. Ron Freeman.”
“Oh my god, you’re Ron Freeman’s daughter?” Clarence physically recoiled.
“Of course I am.”
“How hideous for you.”
“Why do you say that? Are you porno phobic?”
“No, but I’ve always found your father’s magazine particularly offensive, as must every person of sensibility. Including yourself, I should hope.”
“Yes, of course. Anyway, sales have been flat since the spring and Ron won’t be able to meet my college expenses for the next semester unless I come home this weekend and help.”
“You call your father by his first name? I don’t approve of that. It’s very confusing. And how in the world can you help?”
“Ron says if I pose for a photo spread in the magazine he can vaunt it on the cover and book lots of expensive alcohol and cigarette ads for the issue.”
“If you do what?”
“If he can put on the cover of American Lust: ‘First nude photos of Ron Freeman’s 18 year old daughter’ it will be a big selling point and earn enough advertising revenue to pay for two or three terms here at school.”
“Lupe you can’t possibly dream of letting your father exploit you in that way!”
“He’s not exploiting me, Clarence. He’s just suggesting a way to keep me here at school. He’s not a multi-zillionaire tycoon like you’re dad. He’s just a struggling pornographer trying to run his business, pay for his lawsuits and provide his daughter with a refined education.”
“Lupe! Am I hearing you correctly? You mean to say you actually don’t resent your father’s making such an obscene suggestion to you?”
“It’s
