Cassolette Page 9

  "The thing is, I never really believed in…ghosts and the like. Thought that they were the product of an over active imagination."

  "Well most of these sightings probably are," Scott agreed. "But then there are the others that are not so easily dismissed."

  When she had seen the strange figure, on the other two occasions, Jaye had been prepared to doubt her own senses. Perhaps she had been hallucinating? But that night it had been so close, it had left no room for doubt.

  "I'm going to take a look around," Scott said. "Have you got a flashlight handy?" "But why?" Jaye asked. "What do you expect to find?" "I'm not sure," he replied evasively. "Would you like to come along?" There wasn't a breath of wind; the night lay still and heavy beneath a sky devoid of stars. Jaye could smell sulfur in the air, a phenomenon associated with thunderstorm activity. But there had been no thunder that night.

  "There was lightning," she explained haltingly to Scott. "The first time I saw it. The figure was lit up by a flash of lightning."

  In much the same way, she realized, that it had appeared to her in the blaze of her headlights that night. Always standing in exactly the same position by the gate.

  Jaye moved closer to Scott, her hand clutching his arm, as they approached the spot. "It was right here. On the outside of the gate, by the hawthorn bush."

  He scanned the ground with the flashlight, hunching down to get a better look.

  Jaye knew that he was looking for footprints, or any sign of a recent human presence. For that was one of the first thoughts she had had as well; at least, until tonight with its weird atmosphere, and the speed at which the figure had vanished. Could a flesh and blood man have disappeared as quickly? She surely had looked away for no more than a couple of seconds. The earth appeared undisturbed around the gate. Although it was hard turf

  slightly worn from years of use, it was not predisposed to register footprints. "What is it?" Jaye asked anxiously, as Scott scooped up something from just beneath the hawthorn bush. Shining the torch on his palm to get a better look, Jaye saw it was a cigarette butt.

  "It could have been there for a long time," she suggested, and he agreed that someone having legitimate business there could have dropped it. Yet it did seem fairly fresh, which raised the possibility that the figure might not have been as ethereal as previously thought. Ghosts did not smoke Player's Light while waiting to spook their victims.

  "There's a possibility that someone is trying to scare the wits out of you," Scott said, pocketing the butt. "And if so, you can be sure that money is the motive. Heck, it always is."

  "John Dorian," Jaye replied at once. "He owns a sinister sort of company called Midas Holdings, that no one can find out anything about. According to Angus he's been trying to gain control of the island for years."

  Scott nodded and steered Jaye back to the house. She had had enough excitement for one night. "Yes, I know of him. Adelaide told me that he had written to her expressing an interest to purchase."

  The idea that Dorian might be behind the nocturnal sightings had occurred to Jaye as soon as they had begun. The purpose was obvious—to scare her into selling up and leaving the island. It wouldn't be the first time that this type of ploy had been used in similar situations. Yet, the figure had not seemed like that of a mortal man. "This is comfortable," Scott remarked, leaning back on the couch, with Jaye curled up close beside him. "Let's have another drink. Then you should try and get some sleep. I'll have a more thorough look around once it was daylight." * * * The train rattled its way through the Rockies, with warning blasts of its horn at each hairpin curve. Jaye tried to solve a crossword puzzle, finding it difficult to concentrate. After all the recent excitement, her mind was restless and prone to wandering elsewhere.

  But now that she was actually on the move and embarked on a decisive course of action, she felt a greater sense of purpose, and less at the whim of the fates.

  The small private compartment was flooded with sunlight, and she closed her eyes against the glare, letting the movement of the train lull her senses.

  This journey was for her like an oasis, a much needed time-out from the stresses of daily life. And she refused to let those cares intrude on it, aiming for that liberated state of being where there is no past or future just the moment.

  As if from a long distance off, she heard the announcement for lunch over the PA system. But she wasn't hungry, at least not for food. It was nourishment of the flesh that she craved. That magic merging of chemicals and hormones that only another hot body against her own could bring.

  After her torrid encounter with Guy on her last rail journey—when the intense and uninhibited nature of her desire had even shocked herself—she had done some reading up on the subject, and discovered that she wasn't alone in this particular sexual compulsion.

  It was believed to be caused by the motion and acceleration of the train, as well as the erotic association of love on the run. But whatever the reason, it was so popular that some of the classier Parisian and Viennese brothels used to have a compartment fitted up to accommodate its aficionados. Complete with train effects and noises, and vibrated by a motor and cams.

  But there was nothing quite like the real thing, Jaye decided. She recalled how the dark-eyed steward had taken her standing up, his cock driving into her swollen wetness. Then he had lifted her, cupping her bottom with his hands so she could entwine her legs around his waist for deeper penetration.

  She was disappointed that he wasn't on the train this trip, had been hopling for it more than she realized. Perhaps he would get on at Winnipeg when they changed crews? But he didn't. Should she ask someone, she wondered? Then she realized that although she had rutted with this man in the most intimate way; and he had filled her erotic dreams ever since, she didn't even know his last name. * * * "You're looking a bit peaked," Joanna remarked as they ploughed their way through mountains of Chinese food at the Fortune Cookie. "All the excitement of a treasure hunt, I suppose."

  The truth was, that Jaye was having a devil of a time adjusting to the different environment. After the bucolic peace of Bell Island, Toronto was like a jackhammer that never quit.

  Days spun by in a flash in the chaotic bustle of the Computer Clinic. The premises seemed more cramped than she had remembered, squeezed in between a Laundromat and fast food restaurant in a rundown part of College Street.

  Orders were misplaced, programs wouldn't work, and more pouring in all the time. How, she wondered, had she ever put up with this in the past—in the pre Bell Island days?

  The evenings, spent in her small apartment above the business, weren't much better. Whacked out from the day, she would spend them slumped in an armchair by the window, hypnotized by the flash of the scarlet neon sign from the massage parlor across the street.

  "You need to eat more," Joanna scolded, as she watched Jaye picking sans appetite at her food. "You're all skin and bone."

  Jaye stared out at University Avenue, bleak with rain, which matched her mood. "I'm sorry, Jo, but how would you feel about me selling out?" she suddenly asked. "You can see that my heart just isn't in the business anymore."

  It had taken her several weeks to pluck up the courage to say it, the Computer Clinic had been exceptionally busy and there just hadn't been the opportunity until now.

  Joanna,had been heaping chop suey onto her plate, and she paused with spoon in mid-air and eyed Jaye with a surprised expression.

  "Are you sure?" she asked, at last. "It seems a shame just when the business is finally gaining momentum, with new clients all the time." She outlined her plans for expansion in a new location. "I've already hired extra staff, as you know."

  Jaye shook her head and stared into a cup of watery tea. "You deserve someone super motivated, Joanna, and I've lost it, I'm afraid."

  In the end Joanna talked her into staying until after Christmas. "That'll get us over one of the busiest periods. Then go back to your island, and if you still feel the same way by summer, then we'll do it."

>   Jaye doubted that she would have a change of heart, but agreed to the terms anyway. She owed Joanna that much.

  "And I insist that you come over to my place at the weekend, you need to get out more and enjoy yourself." Then she leaned across the table conspiratorially and added, "Kenny is dying to play another scene for you." * * * Joanna lived in a narrow, remodeled duplex within easy walking distance of the Computer Clinic. "But not for much longer," she said to Jaye, indicating the gritty working class district where English was seldom spoken. "I already have a smart new apartment picked out."

  Kenny Wishborne, her long-term partner and submissive, nodded his approval. He was a big blonde teddy bear of a man with a dimpled face.

  After dinner, which was served in a tiny dining area off the kitchen, Joanna announced her intention to punish Kenny for a series of accumulated misdeeds. It was the usual scenario that Jaye had witnessed many times before. Kenny got off on the humiliation of being spanked in front of an audience.

  But it was an extraordinary sight that never failed to amaze her. The large man bent obediently over Joanna's lap while she whaled the living daylights out of his bare bum.

  "My hand's getting sore," she complained, and indeed the palm was livid, about the same shade as Kenny's bottom. "Time for the paddle."

  It was a small leather affair with a wicked sting and it made the large cheeks jiggle and bounce. "Ow…" Kenny moaned, but remained stoically unmoving throughout.

  After the spanking, Joanna ordered him into the bedroom. It was a regular part of their routine, Jaye knew, enjoyed by both. "And go straight to bed, or it'll mean another spanking," she warned sternly.

  Kenny's face was flushed with shame as he shuffled past Jaye, his eyes downcast. But there was a suppressed excitement about him that bespoke extreme arousal.

  "That was quite wickedly erotic," murmured Jaye. "You're into spanking in a big way."

  Joanna nodded."I got my first spanking when I was a teenager," she confided, her dark eyes inscrutable. "I was a bit of a brat, and when Mom remarried, my stepfather decided to introduce a little discipline into my life."

  "A strange man spanking your bum must have been disturbing," Jaye empathized. "How did your mom feel about it?"

  "Oh she was okay with it, as long as it was done in private, and it was. In fact, it always followed exactly the same modus operandi. It was quite the little ritual."

  When Joanna misbehaved she would have to go downstairs to her stepfather's study to be punished. She would be all ready for bed, and wearing a long cotton

  nightdress, and no slippers. "I was afraid for some reason, that they might fall off while he was spanking me, so I went barefoot."

  He would be sitting at his desk when she went in, and would lecture her for a while about her misdeeds. Then he would tell her that he was going to give her a spanking, and push back his chair. It was the signal for her to lie across his lap.

  And as she lay there, in that most humiliating of positions, waiting for the spanking to begin, Joanna tried to focus her speeding mind by fixing her eyes on a worn piece of carpet. She was acutely aware of the warmth of his steadying hand on her back. It was a strong hand with blunt fingers, sprouting with coarse black hairs. She could smell the pipe tobacco that emanated from him, the roughness of his trousers through the thin material of her nightgown. And how chilly her feet and legs felt in the draughty room.

  Then he lifted her nightie and delivered exactly six hard spanks to her bare bottom. "It sounded so loud," Joanna reminisced. "And I was so embarrassed knowing that my mother, and the housekeeper could hear me being spanked."

  She would hurry back to her room afterward with a face as hot as her buttocks, the stairs cold beneath her feet. "Just praying that I wouldn't meet anyone along the way."

  "And did the spankings alter your behavior in any way? Did they act as a deterrent?" Jaye asked, sipping on her Irish Coffee, and feeling very aroused by Joanna's descriptive account of her punishments.

  "Well they did give me pause for thought," she admitted with a rueful expression. "When you know that breaking the rules will result in a spanking, you think twice. It was very humiliating for a girl of my age, who thought herself quite the adult."

  "Did they arouse you sexually?" Jaye asked, noticing how Joanna had been crossing and uncrossing her legs while she had been talking.

  "Not at first," she answered hesitantly. "I was too frozen with embarrassment. But later on they did. And that made me feel very confused and … unnatural. I would masturbate in my room afterwards while I looked at my red bottom in the mirror."

  Joanna's confession about the spankings she had received from her stepfather had made Jaye extremely aroused.

  "Now it's time to smear a cooling ointment on Kenny's bottom," she said and disappeared into the bedroom.

  Jaye could hear her scolding him for being a naughty boy. Then the creaking of the bed springs, as she mounted him and rode them both to a blistering orgasm.

  Their cries of ecstasy made her think longingly of her lovers on the Pacific Coast. She'd been having regular phone sex with them, especially Scott, whose voice had a clitoris teasing quality about it that drove her wild. * * * The erotic scene with Kenny and Joanna had inflamed her to fever pitch. She

  telephoned Scott as soon as she arrived home. "I need some heavy role play tonight," Jaye whispered. "Okay, we're in a lounge bar called the Pink Elephant. It's dimly lit and there's a lone pianist playing softly in the corner. "I slip onto the barstool beside you. 'Do you come here often?' I ask."

  "What's your scene?" Jaye asked, cutting directly to the chase. "Vanilla or kink?"

  "You don't waste any time, do you?" Scott asked. "But I like that. Why mince words?"

  "We order another round of drinks and carry them over to a booth, out of earshot of the inquisitive barman."

  "I sit close to you, nudging my bare toes up your trouser leg. I am extremely aroused. I tell you that I've just watched my friend spank her husband, and that I'm looking to duplicate the scene. Are you interested?"

  "I'll say I am," he responded on cue."The idea of being spanked by a woman has always turned me on big time."

  "We go to a hotel," continued Jaye. The room is spacious with sliding glass doors and a balcony. It overlooks Lake Ontario. I pull the drapes closed while you rifle through the mini-bar. I make myself comfortable on an armless chair that was sitting in front of the dresser. 'Come here,' I order, hiking up my dress. 'Time to teach you a lesson.'"

  "I am tall, and when I'm bent over your lap, I 'm actually kneeling on all fours on the floor."

  "You have been a bad boy," she scolded. "I'm going to whack your covered behind a few times. Half-a-dozen brisk spanks on each cheek and then another six directly over the crack." "Ah, feels good," murmured Scott. Then she told him to take down his pants. And she could picture his firm sexy butt just begging to be spanked some more. She whapped him on top of his briefs for a while, tight black undies that left most of his cheeks exposed. Then it was off with them, too, and the spanking proper on his bare behind could begin.

  Jaye was really getting into this. Her eyes were closed and she visualized the hot scene so vividly that it became real for her. She whispered into the receiver that she was sure others must hear the spanking. There was a space under the doors leading to the next room and the corridor, and this made her even hornier.

  Scott was disappointed when the spanking finally stopped. "My hand hurts," Jaye explained almost sheepishly. She realized that it couldn't smart any more than his flaming butt. "You got a belt, or a hairbrush?" he asked. "Don't quit on me now." "Go and fetch my handbag," she ordered. She was angered by his nonchalance regarding what she had thought of as a good spanking. The hairbrush that she always carried with her was small. But she would really give him what for with it. Her aim was to make him sting so much he would beg her to stop.

  Scott repositioned himself, presenting his already red bottom as conveniently as possible. Jaye placed the brus
h on his right cheek, and asked him if he was ready. When he indicated that he was, she wasted no time in bringing it down with a sharp crack that made him jump and his bottom bounce. She steadied him with a hand on the small of his back and repeated the spanks again and again. She could swear that she heard someone shuffling around on the other side of the door. They must be really getting off on this, she decided amusedly.

  "Have you had enough?" she asked at last. Once every inch of his bottom was covered in blisters and welts. He had taken the beating so stoically, that sometimes she forgot that there was a living breathing person attached to the fiery butt. He had certainly enjoyed the punishment big time. As much as she had done delivering it.

  "God, did I ever need that," he admitted, crawling away from the scene of his shame. "I haven't had a spanking in years." * * * He told her that he had been spanked growing up. "My dad used to slipper my bottom, until I was about fifteen." But that it was a caning he'd received at school that really made the greatest impression.

  "I was seventeen years old, and as you know I'm a tall guy, over six feet. So I was, to all extents and purposes a full grown man." He had been caught with a girl behind the school lavatories. "I had hiked her skirt up and was feeling her pussy and kissing her," Scott reminisced ruefully. He was told to report to the Headmaster's office immediately.

  "I knew I was in for a beating. Interfering with one of the girls like that was considered a serious offence." It wasn't the first time he'd been caned for minor infractions so he knew what to expect.

  Mr. Finchley—nicknamed the Bird—was a grim unsmiling tyrant who struck terror into the hearts of his charges. He was a tall stooped man with an eagle's beak of a nose, his fierce canings were the stuff of legends.

  Always delivered on a bare bottom, the swish swish of the cane landing on trembling flesh could be heard far down the corridor in both directions.

  The schoolboy, after pulling down his trousers and underpants would be directed to bend over a stout leather armchair with his bare bottom presented for punishment.