Spank: The Improbable Adventures of George Aloysius Brown Page 9

  I laughed. "Oh, Nan, I never know quite when to believe you."

  "Then believe this, darling. Don't be in hurry to lose your virginity. When it happens it happens and you will know it's the right time for you. But don't rush it. How about another scone? I made the jam from elderberries I picked from the garden."

  Jennifer lived with her parents in a village near the New Forest in Hampshire and during the summer holidays she would invite me to stay. The two weeks I spent with her every summer were the happiest of my life. She lived in a cozy ivy-covered cottage with a garden that backed onto a playing field where in the evenings you could sometimes see deer. In the lane where she lived all the houses were named after trees, The Hollies, Shady Oaks and so on. Hers was called Beech Grove. There were tall beech trees in the front garden and beds of roses and hollyhocks and, in the spring, a profusion of bluebells and primroses.

  Jen's dad, Douglas Emerson, was a civil engineer working for a company based in Dubai so he was away for much of the year although he was usually home when I was there, escaping from the extreme heat of the desert summer. Her mother Ruth taught yoga at the local recreation center. She was petite and slim and so young looking she could have passed for Jen's older sister. She was strict with us girls in that decorum and good manners were important, but she was also frank and open and never shied away from sensitive subjects. There was a lot of banter and laughter. I envied Jen the relationship she had with her mother. In truth, I had a bit of a crush on Ruth.

  Jen and I shared her room overlooking the back garden. The master bedroom was at the other end of the landing, looking out over the lane. We usually went to bed around ten because we liked to get into our pajamas and read, or play video games, or just talk. Lights out was 11 p.m., but usually it was much later than that before we finally went to sleep.

  It was during my second summer at Jen's place when one night I was tiptoeing back from the bathroom and I heard an unfamiliar sound coming from her parents' bedroom. I felt a knot in my stomach.

  "Jen, listen. What's that?"

  She went to the door and poked her head out onto the landing, listening. She pushed me back inside and closed the door.

  Jen came to my bed and we sat together side-by-side. She put her lips to my ear, "Sounds like mummy's getting a spanking."

  "What? She's what…?" I was horrified, my voice rising above a whisper. I turned to Jen. "Why? What's Ruth done? Why is she being spanked?"

  "Shush," Jen put a finger to her lips. "For God's sake, keep it down, they think we're asleep. It's okay, Cat. It's just pretend. They often do it when they think I'm asleep. She wants him to. They're just playing."

  "How can you be sure?" I hissed at her. I was aware that I was blushing furiously, a heady mix of feelings and emotions racing through my brain. On one hand, I was afraid that Ruth really was being punished; on the other hand, the thought of it excited me. I was jealous. 'It's okay, Cat, she wants him to.....' Jen's words rang in my ear.

  "Let's go see," Jen whispered.

  "Are you kidding? How on earth…?"

  "The catch is broken on their bedroom door. It's always open just crack."

  "But what if they see us?" I was mortified at the thought of being caught spying.

  "They won't. I've watched before. How do you think I know what they're doing?"

  When Jen tiptoed onto the landing and beckoned for me to follow. I did so, my heart pounding. I hardly dared breathe.

  Like she said, their bedroom door was open just a crack and if we put our eyes right up to it we could see inside. A light on the bedside table shone like a spotlight. Her dad was sitting on the side of the bed and Ruth was across his lap, her nightie pulled up around her waist. Jen was right, it didn't look as if she was being punished. She was breathing hard and making little pleasure sounds. Sometimes he paused to run his fingertips up and down her back or stroke her thighs. Then he whispered something in her ear and, as if in response, she clenched and unclenched her cheeks, which I could see were already red, until he began again. I'd seen enough. My head was reeling. I almost ran back to our room, Jen following, closing our door quietly behind us.

  What I'd seen had excited me in a way I never could have imagined. I wondered what it felt like, or to be the one doing it.

  "Jen?"

  "What?"

  "Did your mum ever spank you?"

  "Never. Sometimes I wished she would have, it would be better than being grounded."

  I went to her bed and whispered in her ear. "If you want me to, I could do it to you."

  "Do what?"

  "You know."

  "Not now!"

  "No, silly, when they're out."

  "I don't know, Cat. Maybe. Alright, yes. But not a hard one."

  "Of course not, a pretend one, like they do it."

  She looked at me, smiling. I gave her a hug.

  "I could do it tomorrow when we go riding, after our picnic."

  "You mean when we're at our secret hideout?"

  "Yes. No one can see us there."

  "Mmmm. I think I'd like that."

  Jen had her own horse, Braveheart, which she has had since he was a pony. When she went away to boarding school she let the stables take him over for others to ride in return for food and board. That way he was always well groomed and cared for and there wasn't a trail in the New Forest he didn't know. You could never get lost aboard Braveheart. His ears pricked up when he heard Jen's voice and he stuck his head over the stable door for her to stroke and he nuzzled her outstretched hand for a treat. I was to ride his stablemate, Sebastian, a gentle giant I had ridden before. Sebastian and I got along just fine. Dressing up is part of the fun and we certainly had the kit for it. We wore knee-high black leather boots over cream jodhpurs, with black leather chaps, white cotton blouses buttoned to the neck and sleeveless riding jackets that zippered down the front. Mine was forest green, Jen's was scarlet, the color of the hunt. Riding crops, more for show than anything, hung from clips attached to our saddles. We saddled up, put on our helmets, and were on our way.

  We started at a slow pace, then broke into a gentle trot. It was paradise, just the sounds of horses' hooves and songbirds and the rustle of trees in the early morning breeze. The sun shining through the branches dappled the forest, throwing pools of light in our path. The bluebells had long gone, but bright purple bugles, like clusters of bells, lined the trails and violets and foxgloves grew in clumps beneath the oak trees. Occasionally we saw wild gladioli almost hidden in the bracken, showing us bright splashes of magenta.

  It seemed that we alone were the creatures of the forest. In the open glades we spurred our horses on and they seemed happy to go for a canter, kicking up their hooves at the abundant gorse bushes that smelled vaguely of coconuts. Sebastian was close on Braveheart's tail and I admired the effortless way Jen rode. She leaned forward, showing perfect form, as her seat rose and fell in the saddle. I am not such a skilled rider and I was fighting it a little bit. After a while I felt a slight burning sensation between my legs that was not unpleasant. Even so, I was glad when we were in among the trees again and the horses slowed to a walk.

  "You okay, Cat?" Jen turned to see if I was still with her.

  "Yes, I'm fine." I said. "I'm a bit out of practice, that's all. I had trouble keeping up with you and I must admit I'm feeling it a little bit. I don't want to have a sore bum for the rest of the day."

  She laughed.

  "We're close to the picnic spot now. Ten minutes, maybe a bit longer. Sit back and enjoy the ride." She gave me a knowing look and turned to scratch Braveheart behind his ears.

  I knew what she meant. The girls at school talk about it. The feeling of a powerful animal between your legs, the rhythmic rubbing of the saddle, is stimulating. Some girls say they go horse riding to get physical release. I must admit I tried it once and easily brought myself to orgasm. But everything has to be right; warm weather, how you sit in the saddle, a rhythmic gentle ride, maybe even the time of month, and
it helps to be semi-aroused in the first place, which I was. I hadn't forgotten my promise to Jen. We reached the turn-off from the trail and Braveheart led the way through the trees, about 200 yards to a small circular clearing carpeted with dry moss. No one ever ventured this deep in the forest. It was our secret place. There was a stream close by and we tethered the horses so they could drink from it. Jen laid out our blanket in the clearing and I got our sandwiches out of the saddlebag and a bottle of water for each of us and took them to her. Finally I tucked my riding crop casually under my arm and joined her sitting cross legged on the blanket. She watched me put it beside me. By mid-morning the sun was high in the sky and we could feel the heat even under the shade of the trees. We finished our lunch in silence, relaxed and comfortable in each other's company with the muted buzz of woodland insects to serenade us. Jen glanced at the riding crop and then at me, but my expression gave nothing away.

  "You shouldn't have ridden off so fast," I told her. "You knew I was struggling to keep up." I let her think about that for a little while. She didn't say anything. She saw me reach for the crop and test its flex between my hands. She couldn't take her eyes off it.

  It was time to play our little game

  "Get into position, please."

  For a moment or two she didn't move, then she rolled onto her tummy and thrust up her bottom. I didn't keep her waiting. I gave her several swats across both cheeks, the leather tip making a snapping sound on her jodhpurs. She didn't flinch. I gave her more, harder this time. The riding crop felt good in my hand and made a swishing noise through the air.

  Then I paused and put it down where she could see it. I wanted her to see me pick it up again.

  "Pull down your jodhpurs, please,"

  Immediately her hands went to her belt buckle.

  "Good, now your panties."

  "Cat, what if someone sees us?"

  "Do it, now."

  She did as she was told, pulling her panties to her knees. Her bottom now presented to me, was plump and round, but not marked. When she saw me reach for the crop she gave a little moan. This time I kept her waiting. Then, I tapped it twice on her cheeks, which were writhing and flinching in anticipation. I gave her six strokes, hard enough to excite her, but not hard enough to hurt her. I bent to kiss her better.

  "Is it red?"

  "A little bit."

  "It stings. It feels good, though."

  She sat up and threw her arms round my neck.

  "That was fun. Shall I give it to you now?"

  "No, not now. Maybe next time."

  The truth is I didn't want her to do it. I thought back to what I had witnessed the previous night. If I was going to happen to me, I wanted a man to do it.

  "We'd better get back." I hugged her. "The horses probably need feeding. You're not sore, are you? Are you okay to ride home?"

  She nodded.

  "Cat."

  "What?"

  "I really do love you."

  "I love you too."

  We packed up our picnic and untethered the horses, leaving behind us only a slight depression in the moss. We rode home slowly side-by-side, two young equestrians tall in the saddle.

  It was during the summer holidays before the start of my final year at school that I lost my virginity after a teen dance at St. Gabriel's church hall in the village. I was 17. Most of my friends were from boarding school and I knew very few of the village kids my age. Without a date I didn't feel like dancing, but mother can be very persuasive.

  "You need to get out more," she said. "You won't get to meet people if you don't make an effort. Do it as a favor to me, darling. Reverend Parsons is new to the parish and he's trying so hard to reach out to young people. He's bringing in a professional DJ and everything. Come on, darling, it'll be fun."

  I doubted it, but I knew mum and dad were going to bridge club and on reflection it was probably better than spending Saturday night on my own curled up with the cat.

  "Alright, I'll go, at least for a little while." Mum was baking a cake. She clapped her floury hands together and hugged me extravagantly.

  "That's the spirit, darling. It's over at eleven and we'll be home by then. Do you want us to pick you up?"

  "Mum, it's a five minute walk. I think I can manage to get home by myself."

  So I went. Actually, mum was right for once, the music rocked, the place was jumping and I was enjoying myself, hanging out, checking out the action, when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

  "Cat, hey, it is you, I thought it was. It's been a while."

  I spun around.

  Joshua Southgate had been the class clown at Sunday school. He was a skinny kid back then, shorter than me, with a pimply face and a mop of curly brown hair like a throwback to the sixties. What I saw now was a tall good looking guy, with short spikey hair, clear skin, the same dark sparkling eyes, the same quirky, off-center smile. I thought, 'Wow. Who knew he'd turn out to be so cute.'

  "Yes, Josh, hey, wow, it's been like four years at least. I haven't been to Sunday school since the Battle of Jericho. How'd that thing turn out anyway?"

  "Beats me. I believe the walls came tumbling down, but after that I lost the plot."

  We laughed and greeted each other formally, a peck on each cheek.

  He looked at me appraisingly. Our eyes met briefly and I felt something stir in the pit of my stomach.

  "Are you with anybody?"

  "No, you?"

  "Not until now. Would you like to dance?"

  After that we didn't miss a set. During the slow dances he held me tight. I wasn't shy. I pushed my body against his and I let him kiss me, once, twice, the faintest of touches before we both turned up the heat. I couldn't get enough of Joshua Southgate. At the interval, he took my hand.

  "It's hot in here, let's get some air."

  I felt flushed, excited. It's as if I knew where this was going and I was powerless to stop it. I thought of inviting him to my place, but dared not in case my parents got home early. Outside the hall there was a pathway that led to the front portal of the church and for no reason other than to be alone we set off along it, our shoes making a scrunching sound on the gravel.

  There was a sliver of moon that came and went behind high clouds and in the western sky was the last of a thin sunset and a flock of crows heading to their evening roost. Behind a marble mausoleum we stopped and kissed hungrily. I felt his hand on my breast and I could feel something pressing against me. He took my hand and guided me to it, but I pulled away.

  "Not here. I know a place," and we ran to it across the graveyard as if the demons of hell were behind us.

  There was a wrought iron stairwell at the rear of the church that led to the basement and an arched wooden door flecked with cobwebs that looked like it hadn't been opened in a thousand years. No-one would see us down there. The space beneath the stairs smelled of stale incense and old prayer books, or so it seemed to me, although it was more likely rat poo and decaying leaves, autumn's wind drift blown against the cold, stone buttresses. We clutched at one another like drunks, kissing passionately, breathing hard, fumbling in near total darkness with hooks and zippers reluctant to yield. Josh wrestled my bra off and had it in his hand as if unsure what to do with it before stuffing it in his trouser pocket. I felt the night air on my breasts, my nipples erect. I groped at his fly slipping my hand in, but he brushed it away, leaning back against the cold church wall, eyes wide open, dropping his trousers and underpants to his ankles. I slipped off my panties discarding them at my feet on the bones of leaves.

  Then suddenly, like a siren going off in my head, years of precautionary tales kicked in. My God, protection. What about protection?

  "Do you have something?" I was trying to keep my voice calm.

  "Yes. It's right here."

  He fumbled it out of his shirt pocket and ripped open the package. My heart racing, I helped him slide it on. Holding it, feeling its hardness, excited me beyond belief. There was no turning back now. I flung my arms aro
und his neck, my skirt bunched around my waist. He grasped my thigh to help me balance and pulled me towards him. I felt a sharp stab of pain then waves of pleasure. I could feel him tight inside me and I moved to every thrust. Then suddenly it was over. He grunted and moaned, almost lifting me off my feet, before burying his face in my hair. For several seconds we were locked together, then he released me. He was grinning, holding aloft his condom, his still warm semen balled and bobbling like a weird laboratory experiment and I was half laughing and half crying.

  "You did it. Fuck, we both did it. Know what? I'm going to print some cards: 'Catherine Mallory Jones – Not a Virgin.'" Josh laughed.

  "Can I get one of those? What did you say your name is?"

  It hurt to laugh. My lips felt swollen and I felt a soreness between my legs. Instinctively my hand went there, but I had no blood on my fingers.

  For a while we were silent.

  "It was my first time too," he said, solemnly. "They say you never forget the first time."

  I smiled.

  "I think that's riding a bike."

  That made us both laugh and I slipped my hand into his.

  High above us the clock in the church tower struck ten.

  "Let's go," said Josh, suddenly in charge. The man. The alpha male. The boy who shagged me.

  "Come on. I'll walk you home."

  There was nobody home when I got there and I let myself in, thankful to be on my own. I threw my undies and some other things in the washing machine, took a long hot shower and put on my pajamas. My parents wouldn't be home from bridge club for another half an hour, time to get my thoughts together.

  As usual, dad went straight to bed, leaving mum to conduct the parental inquisition.

  "You doing laundry at this time of night?" Mother was of the opinion that clothes were better washed during daylight.

  "No mum, I'm drowning the cat."

  "Don't be silly dear, where is Sylvester, anyway?"

  "I let him out."

  "Well, let him in, dear. You know next door's is in heat. We don't want him howling through the neighborhood."

  I didn't know about the cat next door but I knew the feeling. A few more thrusts back there at the church and I would have been howling too.