Spank: The Improbable Adventures of George Aloysius Brown (12 page)

And look where's it got me, he reflected, morosely, although he was determined that while answering the challenge of writing erotica, his work would at least be literate and its titillating content, he consoled himself, would be offset by comedy, wit and satire.

He set to work. It did not begin well. Drafting an e-mail in response to the ad proved more tricky than he thought. He couldn't get it right.
"
Look here, young lady, I will not tolerate such behaviour,
"
seemed sufficiently assertive by way of introduction, but he was not sure it struck the right tone.
"
Allow me to introduce myself, I am researching for a book on….
"
seemed wimpy and improbable and finally, after innumerable deletes, he opted to keep it simple. He wrote that he, George, 55, a professional, refined and generous gentleman, was available for 'behavioural modification consultation' on Saturdays between noon and 1 pm. Any later than that, he reflected, and he would miss match of the day on the telly. At the back of his mind he wondered that even if the young lady of the advertisement were to take him on as a client whether spanking her without a love interest might be like watching a football match in which, however entertaining the fixture, he didn't care about the result. Where would be the satisfaction, he pondered, without the love and the love making. Nonetheless he felt a twinge of excitement as he hit the send button and cast his fate upon the ether.

Her response was prompt and professional. She would meet him on Saturday next at 12 noon at the
Sunrise
coffee shop on the high street in Basildon,
Essex
, a 30-minute train ride from
Fenchurch St.
station. She would wear a bright red scarf. He should carry an umbrella and a copy of
The
Times
. If he were late she would wait no more than 15 minutes.

In fact George made sure he arrived early and was already seated in a corner booth when a red scarf came bobbing through the door. Clasping his umbrella in his left hand, its handle plainly visible above the formica, he casually waived his newspaper and stood to greet her with an outstretched hand. She was taller than he, slim, very pretty, wrapped in a leather bomber jacket and squeezed into a pair of designer jeans which, George noted with barely disguised satisfaction, revealed a pert and plump derriere. She was black and this he had not expected. From the confines of his Marks and Spencer underwear, the little fella stirred.

"
How do you,
"
he said.
"
I'm George.
"
Can I offer you a coffee?
"

"
Joanne. Yes. Pleased to meet you. Tall skinny decaf latte, thank you.
"

When he returned, she was immersed in his newspaper as if she had been waiting for him all her life.
"
Can you believe those MPs and their bogus expenses?
"
she asked, rhetorically.
"
One minister billed the taxpayer the cost of building a duck house on his castle moat. I don't believe it.
"

"
Shocking,
"
said George and he sat down across from her. Their eyes met. George paused, a pivotal moment.
"
Rather naughty of him, wouldn't you say?
"

She smiled.
"
Very.
"
She laughed. They both did.
"
Tell me a bit about yourself, George. You say you're a consultant in behavioral modification. Like, am I really expected to believe that?
"

George permitted himself a wry chuckle.

"
Not exactly, I'm a retired civil servant. And what do you do?
"
As soon as he spoke he could have kicked himself.
"
What do you think she does, you idiot,
"
he told himself.
"
She's a sex trade worker.
"

"
I'm a librarian,
"
Joanne said.
"
That's my day job. Meeting assertive older gentlemen is a sideline, although a lucrative one. She lowered her voice to a whisper. Two hundred quid, if I trust you and take you on, and that's yet to be determined If I don't trust you, I walk – I'm out of here – and all it has cost you is a coffee. And while we're into true confessions, I'm not 21, I'm 25.
"

George supposed lying about her age in the classifieds was naughty, but they'd already been down that road. He wondered if he would pass the interview. He had almost forgotten he was supposed to be researching and at least as a librarian she would be clear on the concept, so he told her about the writing class, the redhead, Wanda's challenge – and the
2
0,000
pound
prize. And he told her about Pem. Now it was his turn to lower his voice.
"
She loved to be spanked. It was our thing.
"
His eyes misted.
"
It was sweet and loving and I miss her so much…..
"
She put her hand on his arm.
"
Finish your coffee. I can help you. We'll go to my place, it's just around the corner.
"

Her little bedsit above the post office was charming, full of books as might be imagined, comfortably but not elaborately furnished, prints by Gaugin and Mondrean on the walls adding bright splashes of color to the drab landlord green décor. Joanne sat primly on an armchair beside the gas fireplace and motioned for him to sit on the sofa at a respectable distance.

"
So you're researching – that's what they all say,
"
she ventured.
"
Just kidding. That's a first for me. But it makes no difference how you spend your money, my fee as a literary consultant, or in my more traditional role, is what I told you. I take cash or credit cards. No cheques. She averted her eyes as George counted out 200 pounds in fifties and handed it to her in an envelope.
"
As it happens I am open to suggestions,
"
she said.
"
I do role playing if you wish. I also do costumes if that turns you on, teenage slut, secretary, meter maid – that's a best seller for some strange reason. In the dress up department I can put together practically anything. But I don't see you as a role player. Am I right? If you have preferences, fire away.
"

George decided to come straight to the point.
"
Do women secretly like to be spanked?
"
he asked.
"
I read a
piece in the
New
Yorker
by an American journalist who claimed they do. Apparently she herself did and for a while she became obsessed by it.
Pem, that
'
s my late wife, did. Loved it. Nothing hurtful, just playful and loving.
It was all about love for us.
Do you enjoy it.? If so, you have a great job.
"

She smiled.

"
First of all, I am able to separate my personal and professional life and I set strict boundaries with my clients as you will see. Secondly, I can
'
t speak for all women, but many of us do enjoy it, probably most us who have been spanked erotically. The sexual tension, the anticipation, the tactile stimulation, offering our bare bottom to our lover, is highly pleasurable.
Daphne Merkin, who wrote the essay you
'
re referring to and included it in a book, by the way – we have it in the library – describes being spanked
as
'
a facilitating prelude to the enactments of lust.
'
The act of erotic discipline evokes a very complex set of emotions by both giver and receiver, but I think Daphne pretty well sums it up. Did your wife ever share with you her feelings about it, beyond desire?
"
George thought about this and wondered how much he should say.

"
She did a little bit,
"
he said.
"
She liked to be dominated. To be told to fetch me a hair brush and to bend over my knee excited her tremendously.
If I told her before she went to work that she was going to get a spanking at bedtime she would think about it all day. I had never done it before I met her. Now I can
'
t imagine foreplay without it. I suppose I
'
m lucky that we had ten wonderful years together.
"

Joanne was beginning to like this unassuming little man, with his twinkling eyes and the gentle way about him.

"
Many people would agree with you,
"
she said.
"
Erotic discipline is a noble art, central to the sexual pleasure of millions of people over a very long period of time, at least 2,000 years. What do you know of its history?
"

"
Not much, I
'
ve never thought about it. You
'
re in the business, (he flushed, suddenly embarrassed), what I mean is you
'
re a librarian, I assume you
'
ve done some research.
"
She laughed at his diffidence. They both did.

"
As a matter of fact, I have. The best article I ever read was based on a book called
Chastisement,
by John Barry, published more than 40 years ago in
California
. I haven't been able to track down the book. I suspect it's out of print. Apparently in Ancient Greece it was customary for childless women to visit the
temple
of
Juno
in
Athens
to be cured of sterility by the priest of Pan. They had to lie down on the temple floor to be whipped by a lash made of goat's hide.
"

George chuckled.
"
Those priests. Nice work if you can get it, and apparently they've been at it ever since. Does history record how many children of supposedly sterile women were actually fathered by the lash-wielding Pansters?
"

Joanne smiled and continued:
"
In Roman times brides to be, in order to ensure fertility, were placed across the knees of a 'sponsor' and strapped on their bare bottoms to the clashing of cymbals. And you're right about the predilection of priests. Until the sixteenth century, when supposedly the pope put an end to it, it was common for women after confession to retire to the priest's room to have their bare bottoms birched while resting on a specially-designed kneeler.
"

"
And no doubt the aristocracy was into it too,
"
George said.

"
Absolutely. And not just their lordships. Catherine de Medici, in 16th century
France
, was notorious for her delight in seeing female bottoms being smacked. It is recorded that at a banquet in 1577, she made the most beautiful and noble ladies of the court parade naked and personally spanked them on the buttocks with the palm of her hand. Did you spank Pem for domestic transgressions? Never in anger, I hope.
"

George shook his head imagining her emerging wet from the shower about to be chastised for having an overdue library book, her lovely bottom glistening under the track lighting as she bent over the bathtub.

"
Only as a prelude to making love,
"
he said.
"
Only sometimes we pretended it was punishment.
"

"
That's normal – and it depends on your definition of punishment. In
America
in 1936, Mrs. Dorothy Spencer published her famous
Spencer
Spanking
Plan
, said to be an aid to marital bliss. It clearly defined when a man could spank his wife and when a woman could whip her husband. Very detailed it was too, requiring that Mrs. Spencer's rules and regulations were observed to the letter. Women were spanked, but never whipped, whereas husbands were whipped by their wives. One leather goods store reportedly sold 297 whips the day after it was published and until the 1950s whips and paddles had their own section in the
New York
Yellow
Pages
. Imagine that. It must have done some good, during this period the divorce rate fell 37 percent.
"

George smiled.

"
Perhaps that also accounted for the tight fitting skirts and women's dresses that were all the rage at that time.
"

"
Indeed, bottoms were in,
"
she replied.
"
Women's fashion, of course, was designed by men, fueled by male fantasies. The leading American romantic magazine,
Your
Romance
, published a large number of spanking letters purporting to have come from women, although an internal audit subsequently revealed that most of them were written by men.
"