lady.”
Hazel stared at him wide eyed.
“Don’t keep me waiting, Hazel,” he snapped.
“You’re teasing me,” Hazel protested, blushing fiercely.
“Think so?” Robert got up, captured her bare upper arm in a very firm grip, pulled her out of her chair and had her across his lap in a moment. “There,” he said, smoothing out the snug, straight skirt of her 50’s style summer dress, “Does this feel like I’m teasing?” Smack! His large hand nearly covered her right cheek as it connected with a resounding spank.
“No!” she cried, shocked and transported by the first slap of his palm on her firm, tautly skirted bottom.
Robert smacked her again, on the left cheek, with a loud report. It had begun so quickly that Hazel barely had time to catch her breath. Now ticklish tremors exploded inside her like bolts of liquid light.
He immediately began to spank her through her skirt with his well-padded hand. Supported by his broad, muscular thighs and held in place by his hand on her waist, Hazel did not attempt escape. For every time his hand came down a palpable thrill shot through her. So this was what a spanking really felt like! No wonder the act haunted her thoughts.
Robert smacked her firmly and rhythmically, on the right cheek, then the left, starting slowly, then gradually quickening the tempo. She counted four sets of twelve before he paused to rub away the sting. Even through her skirt and panties, the spanking penetrated deeply and her bottom felt radiant.
Observing the way she wriggled and arched to his hand, Robert continued administering the discreet but very sound spanking to his editor, warming the entire surface of her elegant, oval bottom through her linen dress. He went on spanking her until his arm got tired, which took quite a long time. Even though he spanked her hard, her dress and panties softened the blows and rendered them entirely erotic to the enchanted Hazel. Even so, Robert was determined that Hazel feel thoroughly spanked before he let her go.
When he released her, her legs nearly gave out under her as waves of excitement still coursed through her tummy and contracted her heart.
“Aren’t you going to thank me for not pulling up your skirt?” he asked.
“Thank you,” she said, timidly, rubbing her bottom through her skirt, then added mischievously, “I think.”
“I decided to be lenient, since it was your first time.”
“How did you know that?”
“Never mind. I know a lot of things. For example, I know about every type of mischief a girl can get up to around here, and I’ll be keeping a sharp eye on you from now on.”
Hazel felt quite startled to realize that she had finally received corporal punishment from a true enthusiast in command of language as correct as his form. Hazel gazed at him with blunt admiration and Robert looked pleased with himself.
“You know, you’re very sexy,” he told her as he went out the door. The freshets of pleasure continued to wash through her as she gathered up her things and left the office.
The deliriously perfumed dry heat of a Santa Ana wind ruffled the split in her skirt as Hazel waited at the bus stop a few minutes later. So enraptured was she with the memory of her spanking that she didn’t notice Robert roar up to the curbside on his huge Harley. She had never seen him on his bike before and he had to lift the helmet before she recognized him with a start.
“Where do you live?” he demanded.
“Just over in West Hollywood,” she replied, with a freshly pounding heart.
“Get on and I’ll give you a ride,” he told her, handing her the extra helmet.
“But, my skirt–” she began.
“–– has a slit – hike it up and you should have no problem getting on,” he advised her, taking her purse and shoving it into a side bag. The hog was huge and had been modified to fit all the requirements of a 6’5” millionaire. As monumental as man and machine then appeared, Hazel could not contemplate roaring down the hill into West Hollywood on the back of the Harley with anything less than sheer terror. Nevertheless, she got on the back of the bike and locked her arms around Robert’s trim waist.
“I thought you had a car,” he said, kick-starting his machine.
“It recently died,” she explained. A second later they were out in traffic and darting in between cars. La Cienega came all too soon and Hazel prepared for her worst scare since the earthquake. But strangely, the hill simply seemed to disappear obediently under the wheels of the bike without simulating a roller coaster ride in the slightest. Hazel began to relax her grip slightly on Robert’s waist and by the end of the ride, four minutes later, at the quiet, residential intersection of Croft and Waring Streets, she had almost begun to enjoy herself.
Hazel dismounted as gracefully as she could, accepted her purse and handed him the helmet.
“Well, I suppose you’ll be starting your free lance job now,” he said disapprovingly. Hazel immediately blushed as she realized that he was as reluctant to leave her as she was to see him go.
“I’m very sorry about that,” she reiterated sincerely.
“I should have spanked you harder for that,” he grumbled. Hazel merely looked at him with wide eyes. “And longer,” he added, looking sexier straddling the powerful motorcycle than any character she had ever created to fuel her fantasies. Why had it taken her months to realize that a virility god ruled her workplace? Why hadn’t she noticed the vee that was formed by his shoulders and waist? Or that Roman coin head which sat so nobly atop his columnar neck?
“I can still feel it,” she told him.
“I’ll bet it isn’t even pink,” he declared.
“I’ll bet it is,” she replied.
“Lift up your skirt and show me,” he told her casually. Now her blush grew even deeper.
“No!”
Robert laughed and said, “Will you have dinner with me tomorrow?”
A tremor went through Hazel as she realized that a courtship of sorts had begun. “Oh, yes!” she said, looking up at her apartment with indecision. She couldn’t bear to let him go like this, when her empty apartment contained so many straight-backed chairs, sofas, hairbrushes, etc., to furnish them with pleasure. Robert saw her eyes go to the windows and looked at her questioningly.
“Is someone waiting for you?”
“No. I live alone,” she replied, helpfully.
“May I see?”
“Yes.”
Robert parked the bike and followed her up a brick staircase to a second floor apartment in a pretty little Tudor-style building. Leaded glass windows and hardwood floors had made this space a heavenly find and Hazel had used a small inheritance to furnish it. Her resources impressed Robert.
He examined her recamier with interest then looked her up and down.
“How
